My first day at the Central prison
It
all began when I got a call from a theatre colleague, Evan and his excited
voice told me that the authorities at the central prison were looking for
someone to run their theatre project. It took me back in time, years earlier
when my theatre group was planning to organise a show through an NGO, which worked
with inmates and their families and another instance when my uncle recommended
that our theatre group perform for inmates on India’s Independence Day. But
somehow both projects never took off and this idea was stuck at the back of my
mind.
D-Day
I
wanted to deal with the visit just like any other meeting and not let my
imagination run wild or my perception get blocked with the supposed personification
of a prison. However, it was a difficult mental task to keep all my apprehensions
and fears at bay. I casually mentioned the visit to few friends but ensured not
to inform my family who may have freaked out at the idea of their daughter running
away from a plush corporate job to take up project at the central jail instead.
Before
I knew it I was on my way to Paranppan Agrahara and what made the journey very
familiar was that the new prison facility was right opposite to Electronic City
where the world’s top IT companies thrivewas
situated. Moreover, it was 9 am, which meant I was probably driving alongside some
of my ex-colleagues.
We
had received instructions from the prison authorities to reach by 9:30am as
they wouldn’t allow us inside after 9.45am. The same message was sent by SMS.
So since we got stuck in traffic on Hosur Road, I called an official who was
extremely courteous who said “don’t worry madam, once you reach give me a call”.
Using
GPS, we found the building. The exteriors had a certain quality that made it
look like a prison - very unlike the glossy glass-decked building on the other
side of road.
Security
I
had dealt with security in corporate companies before, where guards treat you
with incomprehensible distrust while you wait in long queues or on road in the hot
sun or in shabby waiting rooms. If you are carrying a laptop, you are subjected
to more torture in the name of verification. From your personal ID to your bags,
you are checked by grumpy-looking staff while you gaze into a small camera,
which takes your photo. Your cars and bikes are checked by rude guards and the entire
experience leaves you wondering if you are a criminal and why you deserve this
treatment.
These prior experiences had prepared me well and I was expecting to go through a similar or an even more harrowing experience. However, it was a pleasant surprise that the police staff were and courteous, while the security checks were efficient they didn’t not rip us off our self-respect. Due respect was given to the fact that we were the visitors and not under trials or convicts.
These prior experiences had prepared me well and I was expecting to go through a similar or an even more harrowing experience. However, it was a pleasant surprise that the police staff were and courteous, while the security checks were efficient they didn’t not rip us off our self-respect. Due respect was given to the fact that we were the visitors and not under trials or convicts.
We
were ushered to the admin block to meet certain officials and then meet with the
inmates. Though we had to wait for a long time we were well taken care of; the
staff kept us informed about delays in meeting and gave us water and coffee
while we stared at the interiors, which resembled any other government office
or school. There was a certain style to the curtains with small flower prints,
the tables, the way the door partitions were made, the pale yellow color on the
walls.
I
have to mention one inmate who worked in the admin block who served tea and
water to my colleague Evan and me. This guy returned and noticed that Evan hadn’t
touched the tea and asked if he would like coffee instead. Evan informed him
that he doesn’t drink tea because he is lactose intolerance. During our second
visit the same inmate got milk for Evan assuming that he drank only milk and
not tea (the inmate of course only spoke Kannada and understood only on English
word ‘milk’).
We
walked into the superintendent’s cabin while he was signing multiple papers. He
spoke to us and shared his thoughts about what the inmates had done previously
with theatre. There were a few insights, which thoroughly impressed me:
·
He said “my people are very talented”.
It was so wonderful to see and hear the pride in his eyes and voice. I am sure
corporates can take inspiration and pride in their employees
·
He was completely updated
about every project, which had been done in the past; again a learning for
heads of corporates who are sometimes clueless about what happens on the ‘floor’
or beyond one level of their hierarchy chart
·
He looked like he really understood
the power of theatre and the arts and was extremely supportive
·
He was very accommodative and
open to the various approaches, of course, within the security framework.
Throughout
the time we were with him, he constantly interacted with others and signed papers
but never got preoccupied and distracted from our discussion. Not once did he
scream or raise his voice but you could feel his sense of authority through the
way everyone else interacted with him. He was calm, composed and a thorough professional.
I
couldn’t stop but compare it to an interview experience I had where a very
senior lady during the interview took nonstop calls, kept screaming and
shouting at her juniors and peers. She would ask me questions and never heard
my answers. What was sad was not whether I got the job or not but how it left
me with such a sour experience.
And
then there was a cop who ushered us through a huge gate as we walked down a
path with compound walls on either side. The cop informed us that there were approximately
4,500 men inmates and around 500 women. I raised my eyebrows at the
ratio.
Soon
we were in the orchestra room, a rejuvenation space. We met the music teacher
who enthusiastically welcomed us. He even played ‘Sare Jahan se Accha’ and ‘The Sound of Music’ on the keyboard for
us. When I asked them how often he comes to prison to teach, he replied “well I
am inmate here and teach music because it’s my passion”.
The
next interaction was with an inmate who was quite old man and who took lot of
pride in showing us the karaoke machine
(which actually worked unlike in few corporates). He knew how to operate it
and even without examining the list he knew the song numbers by heart. He sang a
Dr. Rajkumar song from the movie Babrovahana.
The resemblance of his voice and original the Rajkumar was uncanny and the best
part was the passion he had and smile on his face.
Another
cop told us that they have weekly karaoke
nights where inmates and staff all sing together. And in my heart I wished more
leaders got out of their ivory towers and celebrated with their employees on
the floor and broke the glass ceiling.
By
then the inmates with theatre experience had arrived and we all sat in chairs
in a circle. We were joined by around 7 of them who had been a part of Kannada theatre
over the last two or three years. They spoke about theatre with such passion, which
made the connection instant.
A
few things left a huge impact on me:
·
They requested that as external faculty we should involve
everyone who undergoes the workshop to ensure everyone gets a part in the play.
It doesn’t matter if it’s a small or a big role but inclusion was important. They
had already learnt that no role is small in the theatre world.
·
They articulated ‘you’ as an external faculty member will come
and do as per your ideas and leave; however, we will continue staying together
and we don’t want our relations to be strained because of this project. Hats
off to the spirit of camaraderie.
·
And there I was thinking, “Will I ever feel such team spirit in the
corporate world, which only works by the rule of competition and hypocrite
policies that are implemented only as tick mark exercise?”
The inmates talked dearly about their previous theatre
experiences. In fact a few inmates who had been released decided to stay just
to complete their commitment to the theatre project. And what’s even more
impressive is that the young professionals who want to our join our theatre
group find travelling from Kormangala to Indiranagar too much of an effort.
Finally,
the superintendent was back and he spoke to each inmate and appreciated their
performance.
And
after all of this happened, we walked out of the prison, as the traffic and
dust from the IT world on the other side took over...
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Credits:
Collaboration- Evan Hasting
Blogging Idea - Sachit Murthy
Editing Support - Rahul Ahmad
