Loneliness: An encounter at Salem

Prison allows for realizations that can be said to be fundamentally painful. In prison man has shortage of space and an excess of time. Unfortunately, space and time can’t compensate here
(Izetbegovic, Notes from Prison, 1983-88)

My first post in the blog received attention from readers most of whom identified with my predicament. I express my thanks to them and will clarify their doubts regarding my political initiatives later. Abubackar has made my blog much like the daily newspapers I read. The blog, I thought, was the only media space in the world where there is no Maudany bashing. Criticize you must, you have every right to do so. But don't base your comments on some flimsy charges spread without a break. Once the media are forced to speak truth, you will be left alone. Think twice before you say something. If Abubackar had seriously read what Justice Thanikachalam said about me, he should not have come out with his irresponsible statements. It's good that some of my readers have answered him so pithily that I needn't spare my space for that.
Those days in prison were packed with some intense, if interesting from readers’ point of view, memories. I can never completely express myself without sharing them with you.
I was lodged in the Coimbatore jail and had been incarcerated there for three months. The gloom of the National Security Act cast a dark cloud over me. I was in the Valmade block of the prison (There were many cells in Coimbatore, most of which were occupied by the remanded in the blast case. Some cells were inhabited by Dalit youths who were arrested in connection with the cast riots).
In my prison days in Coimbatore, I used to interact with my fellow prisoners. More than one hundred prisoners were there in the block. During my interactions with the prisoners, I taught them verses from the Holy Quran (They might have chosen wrong routes in their life, since they might not have a clear knowledge of the divine text) taught Malaylam language to the Tamilians and conducted study classes on some social and historical topics. This interaction will extend up to when the lock-up time was over.
My life in Coimbatore was not listless. Nor was it eventless. The feeling that I was all alone in the prison hardly disturbed me. As days and nights went by without much ado, I was struck by a bolt from the blue.
Around 4 a.m. I was sleeping on a mattress supporting my head on another one. I was woken up by the shriek the opening of the iron grill arrogantly made. The thud of boots followed. A batch of police officers led by jailor Ammasi appeared as if they were all going for a combat. They wore helmets, were holding lathees on their right hands and shields on the left hands.
"We are shifting you to another prison. Get ready for that."
I smelt a rat. Why were they in a combat mode to take over a handicapped prisoner? If I made any aggressive resistance, I knew, it would be the end of all.
I got ready for the shift. There were many things, including several books, dress and other items, for me to carry, for which I had to depend on another person. So I took my medicine box, a couple of dress and a copy of Quran and accompanied them. Leaving behind some dear books my family and friends gave me at times. Leaving behind my fellow prisoners who were all in deep sleep.....I could not say a farewell to them on this unexpected farewell.
I was taken along the Valmade block, off the jail gate and the room of the superintendent. A team of jail officers including the deputy commissioner were standing outside to carry me away. I walked slowly with the artificial limp. When I reached outside, I was asked to sign under a record authenticating this transfer. I protested, saying that before undertaking any official formality, I had to speak with the superintendent. They didn't hear my plea. I told them if they ever wanted to take me in my sanity, they had to forcibly carry me away.

Hearing the din and bustle outside, the superintendent came downstairs from his room.
“I want to see the order requiring my transfer,” I asked the superintendent.
*
‘Transferring prisoners and shooting them to death while attempting to run away’ has often hit headlines in Tamil Nadu. Most of the prisoners thus annihilated were the enemies of the ruling party in the state. About one month back, I came to read in a newspaper the death of Welding Kumar, a notorious rowdy, in a police shoot-out while escaping on the way of his being transferred to another jail. Some news reports have it that Welding Kumar, since he was a bitter opponent of the ruling party, was a victim of political vengeance.
*
‘If you want to take me away, I must see the order,” I asked again.
‘Sorry Mr. Madany. We can’t show the report, which is an official secret,’ he said.
‘How! I was remanded here by the court. And you are moving me as per a government order. A remanded prisoner is entitled to see it’
Realizing that I was not calmed by anything else, the superintendent showed me the jail DGP’s order, which said that I was getting transferred on administration grounds.
“Administration ground! How can a handicapped prisoner in a dark cell cause administration problem in the prison,” I was surprised.
I was realizing that that plot against me was getting thicker.
*
I was carried away on a police vehicle escorted many such vehicles. A few hours back I could see the huge gate of the Salem prison. After a long wait of many hours in front of the gate, I was subjected to body check-up and brought into the prison by a group of jail officers led by superintendent Sandurapandian.

Salem waits for me

Salem is one the largest punishment prisons in the country. The prison is reserved for hardcore criminals who have to be kept under surveillance. They are murderers for game, rapists and those who incite violence in other prisons, including resorting to murder. No free movement was allowed inside the prison and the cell was too narrow for us to be at ease with the entire surrounding. Before Independence, punishment jails as in Salem were used by the British to torture army men after court-marshalling. *
I was lodged in the high security bloc of the prison, which was surrounded by a huge wall on the four sides with electric wires fitted atop. There is a narrow gate leading to the bloc and one has to halve oneself to sneak into the gate. Once one entre the bloc, one could see a veranda, which is both wired and tightly locked. My cell was located in the veranda.
I was put inside the cell. The cell was locked. The veranda was locked.
The cell was eight-feet long and four and a half-feet wide. A closet was fitted inside the cell. There were no sources of light, especially sunlight, inside the cell, since there was no ventilation in the cell, veranda and the whole block. The entire veranda was lit by a bulb. Darkness mingled my days with my nights. Time went by as if it was a whole bloc of darkness.
Stench from the closet as well as a whole army of mosquitoes was the premonition of an unbearable life I had yet to have.
While I was locked in the cell, almost all nearby cells were empty. The one I could see there was a warden whose fierce stare alongside his u-shaped moustache added to my uneasiness.
There was little water inside the cell. I needed water to perform my zhuhar and asar prayers in combination. (The daily allotment of water is such that prisoners bring some water every day, which won’t meet our needs)
“Why is none around here? Can I get some water?” I asked the warden.
“Uyar pathkap thokuthi than. Inke enthe vasathiyum kedayath,” pat came his reply. (This is high security block. There is no facility here)
I could see people talk from the further point of the block. They could realize that a new inmate was brought into the block.
“Who are you,” someone asked me in high-pitched voice.
I introduced myself.
“Who are you,” I asked in the same way.
They told me they were convicted in the Rajiv Gandhi murder case. Chief convicts in the case, except Murukan and Nalini, like Robert Fayas, Shanthan and Perarivalan were the prisoners.
*
What an irony: people who were convicted in a shocking murder case were allowed to stay together in nearby cells, while I, despite being only an accused, was forced to stay in a narrow cell.
This was when I confronted my loneliness in the bitterest way. This I have never had in my life.
I performed namas after symbolically purifying myself by beating hands on the wall. And I prayed

August has a message to give

Be sure we shall test you with something of fear and hunger, some loss in goods or lives or the fruits (of your toil), but give glad tidings to those who patiently persevere.

Al Baqara 155, Holy Quran

*
For us, the people of India, August has symbolic significance. The month reawakens the spirit of struggle and freedom in our mind. We go back to our history and think how difficult it was to achieve freedom and how precious it is to live without someone else dictating our terms. About 62 years back, our country, thanks to the sacrifice of many lives, achieved freedom at least in paper. On August 15, we celebrate the Independence Day to refresh our six-decade-old political memory. We must think and rethink of what freedom means to us and do whatever possible to bring the fruits of freedom and salvation to those who are beyond the reach of those opportunities in their lives.

It seems to be a mere coincidence that I was released from prison, after the severe imprisonment of more than nine years on the onset of this month two years ago. However, symbolically, it is a reminder to all oppressors that freedom is the ultimate result of all struggles. I think it was the decree of the Almighty Allah, whose presence I deeply felt in the dark seclusion of the prison life. After all, Allah will never let the subjugation and oppression continue forever. This is the most important lesson I learnt in those nine and a half years.

Looking back, I feel the incarceration and harassment meted out to me by the power that be amply justify my cause. If your political stance is positioned in contradiction with the ethos of a fascist, oppressive ruling class which is interpreted as political common sense, you are likely to be harassed. The political common sense in India has long been riding a roughshod over a majority of people in this country, marginalising predominantly the Muslims and Dalits. They are silenced as much as any voice speaking for them is stifled. It’s against this political common sense that I have spoken and written. The three letters of the PDP (People's Democratic Party) is an attempt for the realisation of this mission.

I could draw an analogy between my life behind the bars and the lives of millions all over the world that are behind the walls of oppression and torture. One is not isolated from the society and when the political power tries to isolate an individual from the society due to his/her eloquent political stance, s/he creates a world of empathy inside the prison, which connects him to wider social currents. It dawned on me that any struggle of mine to have me released was as important as my struggle to release the underprivileged class from the shackles of oppression.

The struggle and support of people against the harassment meted out to me has prised open the eyes of justice. This makes me think again that those who prefer the way of justice are still there. Another lesson I have learnt from this is that many people are behind me and my cause. It adds to my sense of responsibility that the struggle for equality and justice should continue until I die. New avenues are to be sought for that. I will come back to that from the next post onwards. Yes, prison gave me the rare space of seclusion. There I came face to face with those whom the society discarded. Privation and poverty, suffering and helplessness, crime and punishment, justice and injustice; themes we may have encountered in literature unfolded before me in their stark nakedness.

Allah has chosen his prophets and noble servants to undergo the ordeals of prisons. For about a decade, I could identify with, and understand, the eminence and nobility of those great lives, who overcame the loneliness behind the bars with belief and ideological fervour. I could learn that my life in prison was nothing compared to that of Prophet Yusuf (Peace be upon him), Imam Abu Haneefa , Hasanul Hudaibi, Sayyid Qutub, Umarul Mukhthar, Ali Iget Begovic, Antonio Gramsci, Bagath Singh, and Mandela, to name a few.

The silent nights of prison gave me a chance to look deep into my mind. I thought once I were released I would translate those nocturnal reflections into action. Life after imprisonment should be guided by the understanding I had in the prison; so I prayed...I desire to utilise the blog to share with my readers those reflections, since I think whatever I do should never be done in a vacuum.

Blog, I think, opens up a space for interaction and debate and your comments will shed light on the way along which I move...

On the second anniversary of my release, I want to recall those prison days. On which, my journey ahead will have a bearing. The struggle for justice will ultimately win its course. This message which my release symbolises will give a boost to my cause.

**

In retrospect

My arrest on March 31, 1998, and the subsequent incarceration for about a decade made a stir in the public space of Kerala. Those who believe in the ideals of freedom and democracy considered it a deliberate deportation of a man from this state to another one. There were however far more serious human rights issues.

I was arrested on a warrant issued by the Kozhikode Kasaba police for an allegedly provocative speech I made under its jurisdiction in 1992. The police officers themselves told me while they were arresting me that the case was such a farthing that I could easily go on bail. How such a fragile case became a serious and abominable bomb blast case was part of a complex script written for an intricate political drama.

The drama unfolds

Events followed my arrest in quick succession, proving a premeditated political conspiracy behind them. I was arrested under the section 153 and was produced before the Kozhikode Chief Judicial Magistrate Court. My counsel was present in the court to plead for my bail. I was sure that I could go on bail, since I was not aware at that time of the seriousness of the case in which I was trapped.

In the court, it dawned on me that I was dragged into a web of more serious charges. The CJM Court remanded me to custody and sent me to the Cannannore Central prison. A team led by CBCID chief, which investigates the Coimbatore blast case, came to the prison with the production warrant of Coimbatore 5th magistrate court. I was handed over to the team which brought me to Coimbatore.

I have visited many parts of the country before. I took part in a programme organised by the Mumbai Malayali Samajam, an election campaign for Mulayam Singh Yadav in UP and so on. Never have I visited Coimbatore before. My first visit destined to become one towards a jail.
I was brought under the custody and questioned for many days by a team of police officers led by IG Paramveer Singh. Paramweer Singh, before he was leaving for Chennai to apprise his senior officers and rulers of the result of the interrogation, told me in affirming words: “There is no evidence against you in this case and you can now go back to Cannannore.”

I was relieved to hear these words from the chief investigating officer and was busy planning to go back. But after meeting his senior officers and rulers in Chennai, Paramveer Singh came back in a hurry and told me that I was the accused number 84 in the Coimbatore blast case. In coming days, I could see my number coming down. From the accused number 84, I became number 19 and number 14 with the tag of severity- more severe than that of the accused number one.

Meanwhile, my family has appointed Rupert A Bornbass as my advocate to move my bail petition forward in the Coimbatore Magistrate Court and Sessions Court. The courts rejected my plea. Still, I was hopeful of either receiving a charge sheet within 90 days or availing the statutory bail. I was sure that the charge sheet they would submit would not have evidences, except the fabricated ones, to implicate me.

But, after three months but one day, I was trapped under the National Security Act

The Draconian Act

The National Security Act keeps an eye of suspicion over the accused and removes him far away from the interference of the Courts. My struggle was shifted to having the NSA revoked from concentrating on disentangling the complex legal web in which I am already trapped.

I spent a huge amount of money to my advocate, RK Jain, to help me come through the Draconian law. The duration of the Act was one year and I was so desperate as to get out of this complex web. The argument in the case went on and on. The delay in the apex court was so disappointing that the NSA imposed on me was revoked by the court with only a few days remaining for me to complete one year, the term of the NSA. What I lost was my precious time and money. However, I heaved a sigh of relief, hearing the court order, revoking the NSA.

Again the struggle went on for a year but a few days, when the Supreme Court revoked the NSA. My statutory bail had already been cancelled by court after it was mistaken by the prosecution; the police-media publicity war had started to make me the main mastermind behind the blast. I was soon made the custodian of Al Umma, although I had known its members only recently.

I was waiting for my charge sheet, which, I hoped, would help me come out of the prison. The charges recorded in the charge sheet would be rejected by the court, since they would never be proved by the prosecution. But this expectation was dashed. The charge sheet was as many as 16,800 pages and was written in Tamil, a language I knew so little that I could not understand the charges against me. (There were also the statements of more than 3,000 witnesses in the charge sheet!)

I was told at that time of a Kannadiga who, remanded in Coimbatore jail in some other case, was given his charge sheet in Tamil. He approached the Madras High Court with the request of having the charge sheet translated to Kannada, which the court granted. I decided to follow the same procedure.

Senior criminal lawyer in Tamil Nadu Mr Vanamamale was appointed as my counsel to argue the matter in the court. It’s Justice VR Krishna Iyer who asked Vanamamale to take up the case. My hope was that the court would accept my plea and I could read my charge sheet in my mother tongue. Much to my surprise and those assembled in the court, the Madras High Court rejected my plea for reasons I still don’t know.

The situation getting more complex. I knew that those who were targeting me were leaving no stones unturned to make me never come out of the prison. The trail in my case was not even started. Many times the trail court deferred the trail for no genuine reasons. Judges were continuously transferred. I approached the Supreme Court to transfer the trail of the case out of Tamil Nadu, seeing that the case which could be complete in a few months would not move forward in Tamil Nadu, although it would take years. Also, my bail attempts were torpedoed by the prosecution with a special interest. Senior advocate Abhishek Singhvi, now Congress spokesperson, attended the court for me. The apex court did not consider my plea; however, it ordered the prosecution to start the trail and speed up the entire process on a day-to-day basis.
For me the apex court’s stance was all but a cause for consolation. The prosecution would not try to override the court’s direction for speedy trail and once the process was over, I would be released.

But as if the order fell on deaf ears, the trail proceeded only at a snail’s pace. So did the course of justice. It was also alleged at that time that some of the accused in the case was trying to defer the trail on many occasions. (It was said that if they were convicted, they would cease to get the benefits of remand prisoners).

In the meantime, my health conditions were getting worse and more severe. I had become a victim to diseases like cervical spondilosis, lumbar disk prolapse, coronary artery disease, peptic ulcer. Diabetic neuropathy, caused by an intensified diabetic state, developed. As per the latest medical reports of the jail medical officers, my weight came down to 42 from 106 (Jail records attest the fact), which I had when I was remanded in the Coimbatore Central Prison.

I was so severely affected by these diseases that I could not even do my primary needs. My artificial limp that I had been using since 1992 was broken into disuse and it caused severe pain to me. Sleepless nights followed. Sleeping pills that the mentally-deranged in the jail were using were given to me to forcefully bring the slumber into my eyes, but to no avail.

I decided to approach the High Court and the Supreme Court with the bail plea. I presented all the reports from the jail medical officers to the courts so that they would directly understand the situation. My request was either to grant me bail so that I can have my treatment outside the prison or facilitate necessary treatment inside the jail. Many times I knocked at the door of justice. Kapil Sibal, now Union Human Resource Minister, Fali S Nariman, Constitutional expert, Natarajan, Susheel Kumar, Adolf Mathew and Haris Beeran presented my case in both the courts. But the courts kept rejecting my plea. The prosecution was trying its best to counter my arguments by appointing high-profile advocates like KM Tulasi. (Normally, the government counsels in the Supreme Court take up the government issues. The service of high profile advocates are sought, when the case is of serious nature). There were allegations of extra judicial work in the case.

Meanwhile, noted writers and human rights activists like VR Krishna Iyer, Justice PK Shamsuddin, Kamala Surayya, MK Sanu, Prof KM Bahauddin and Mukundan C Menon wrote letters to Tamil Nadu Chief Minister Jayalalitha seeking her intervention. All those great attempts were in vain. However, the struggle and agitations against my incarceration continued
yet more vigourously.

A fax missive, a legal trap

When the trail was under way, prosecution witnesses were cross-examined by my counsels Viruthachala Reddiar, Akbar Ali and Bhavani Mohan who proved their statements wrong. During the cross-examination, the trail court witnessed drama proving the fact that the police had used money and threat to make the witnesses state against me. It has been registered in the docket sheet of the court that witness Kadala Muhammed, was taken to the custody and forcefully brought to the court by the police. Muhammed said he knew nothing about me. Another witness Manaf, who made the 164 statement against me, revealed that SP Murukeshan threatened him in custody to make statement against me. He told Murukeshan offered him gulf visa and residence in Chennai as reward. To prove his point further, Manaf showed the court the money the police gave him. He also said that Murukeshan threatened him, if he did not make statement against me, to shoot him to death. However hard the prosecution tried by these means to influence the court, it could not produce even a single witness statement against me.

During the hectic arguments, my counsels proved the falsity of the prosecution charges against me. All stumbling blocks on the way to justice were about to be removed and a green signal for my bail was about to be shown. It was then that behind-the-scene machination took the form of a fax message sent from Kerala to Tamil Nadu a few years back.

My grandmother had died sometime back. Usually I could go on parole to visit her body, offer prayers and took part in her funeral rites. At that time, the Kerala Government soldiered by AK Antony asked the central zone DIG to send a fax message to the TN Govt, instructing it not to bring me to Kerala since my presence would foil the law and order situation in the state.( The govt led by Antony had all blessings and support of the PDP during the election. UDF leaders visited me in prison, held discussion with me and offered help in lieu of the party support)
Antony Government’s missive was not merely restricted to the issue of granting parole to me, it had yet to have far-reaching law and order problems. Based on this fax message, the Tamil Nadu Government brought about a ban order against me. The ban order strictly prohibited my transportation outside the jail premises.

Later, it came to pass that there was no evidence to implicate me. Judge Uthrapathy, seeing my counsels’ arguments were solid and sound, stated that my physical presence was not needed in the court. My journey in that desert of loneliness and struggle halted at the sight of water, when suddenly it turned out to be a mirage.

The ban order was there in front of the trail court when my bail application was under its consideration. This was how Antony’s fax message and Tamil Nadu Government’s ban order metamorphosed into a legal trap from a ‘mere’ official statement. The court stated in its order rejecting my bail that revoking the ban order was not under its jurisdiction. So it had to approach the higher judicial authority to find a solution out of this juggernaut.

Justice Thanikachalam

It's before the single bench of Justice Thanikachalam that the request to revoke the ban order was submitted by my advocate N Natarajan, senior counsel. Thanikachalam is a name I can never forget in my life. His face often flashes onto my memory of those times of stark injustice.

*
When my first bail petition was submitted in the trail court, Thanikachalam was the judge there. Rejecting the bail application, Thanikachalam made this statement: “Bomb culture is inherent in him. It is that culture which his lost legs show.”

I was shocked to hear this. The trail against the RSS activists who were involved in the bomb blast against me was going on in Kollam (The trail restarted while I was writing this on 28-7-2009). I was bogged down by a baggage of inexplicable grief and anger. In the court, where normally none responds to the comments of the judge, I was forced to retort: '“How can the victim of a bomb blast be a symbol of that atrocity? If you are amputated in a blast, can I say the bomb culture is inherent in you.'

It led to serous huff with Thanikachalam and I walked out of the court, thinking I could never get justice from such a judge. I roared in the court: “Give me scaffold. I will accept it with a smile.”

Thanikachalam was later transferred and promoted to the Madras High Court.

Again, my counsel Advocate Ramkumar approached the same judge with my bail petition. Ramkumar diligently argued that the human rights under Article 21 of the Constitution were being denied to me. Thanikachalam’s response was a forgone conclusion: “Human rights are applicable to human beings. They are not for those who kill them”. He made a sweet revenge.
*
When Natarajan argued my case before Thanikachalam, his said again, "You have waited until the soup is cooked. Why can't you wait until it's warmed out again.' (Meaning my case was in the final phase)

Sometimes, when I think of thousands of judges who render their noble service to judiciary, Thanikachalam's face hurts me deep

The birth of freedom

When on August 1, 2007, I was proved innocent and was released by the court; it was for me another life on earth. I believe truth and justice will one day come to exist, however long they are delayed. Allah has created us to live on this earth harmoniously. To snatch the right of many for the well-being of a few is denial of justice and truth. It is aggression and stark negation of divine truth. Our politics should realise this and strive for achieving this as an aim. This we must do, although the powers that be try to suppress our rights and voice.
This is the message of August 1.

Links and recommanded sites

Prophet Yusuf (http://www.harunyahya.com/ysf.php), Read Antonio Gramsci's Prison Notebooks at http://www.marxists.org/archive/gramsci/prison_notebooks/ , Krisha Iyer and Kapil Sibal can be accessed through (http://http//www.vrkrishnaiyer.org/) and(http://www.kapilsibalmp.com/) respectively, To know more about aricle 153 A and article 21 of the Constitution, visit ( http://www.vakilno1.com/bareacts/IndianPenalCode/S153A.htm) and http://www.legalserviceindia.com/articles/art222.htm respectively.
If you any links to Begovic's Prison Notebooks please send the link to me