Book review: Page 3 crowd and their shenanigans in Tihar

Prison life has always been a subject of much public intrigue. And when a person of renown is sent packing behind those stone walls, this curiosity hits the roof. That’s why, in February last year, when actor Sanjay Dutt walked out of the Yerwada Central Prison (YCP) after serving his sentence in connection with the 1993 Mumbai blasts, there was a barrage of news reports about the superstar’s life in jail — his daily salary of Rs 45, his stint as Radio YCP’s most popular jockey, and his new-found love for the literature of Munshi Premchand.

The interest, although borderline voyeuristic, did seem justified. A prison, after all, is the most popularly acceptable manifestation of justice. If a bad guy commits a crime, and is confined, justice seems to have been served. But are prisons really a source of correction or are they harbingers of more crime? Journalist Sunetra Choudhury, in her new book Behind Bars, makes a satisfactory attempt at finding out the answer.

The book, through the stories of 13 prisoners, chronicles life inside Indian jails. It covers men, women, one transgender and one juvenile prisoner, and through their experiences, gives a peek into various facets of prison — toilets full of shit, over-crowded cells, custodial torture, and the varied defence mechanisms that prisoners develop to survive incarceration — while some seek solace in prayers, the others in writing, teaching and spiritual internalisation. However, 9 of the 13 stories in the book revolve mainly around the notorious Tihar Jail, robbing readers of an insight into the other, lesser known barracks in the country.

Behind Bars has a star-studded list of case studies, from Indian politicians like Amar Singh, A. Raja and Pappu Yadav to controversial arms dealer Abhishek Verma and his supermodel Romanian wife, Anca, to the former Star TV CEO Peter Mukerjea, who is currently an undertrial in Mumbai’s Arthur Road jail for his step-daughter’s murder. The author has interacted with them first-hand, has asked the difficult questions and has managed an appreciable insight into their jail stints. Through the many cases, she has successfully established how prisons are far more comfortable for the rich, that money can buy comfort in a cramped cell, and that a VIP inmate need not compromise on his conditioned air and butter chicken even when he’s clapped in irons — not that they’re ever clapped in irons.

Simultaneously, the book has three case studies where the accused came from humble backgrounds, and were subjected to mind-numbing abuse while in custody — a transgender woman who was raped by the Ajmer police, a newly-wed Delhi woman who was wrongly accused of being a terrorist, and a man who was arrested for perpetrating the 7/11 Mumbai train blasts, and later acquitted. These cases, shed better light on the truths of life in judicial custody than the experiences of the rich and the mighty who clearly dominate the book’s pages. The three cases harbour several horrific details of gross violations during arrests, narco-analysis tests being manipulated, abuse at the hands of jail doctors, and family members being stripped and beaten

“The earlier torture was just to strip you, starve you one day and force feed you another, give religious gaalis, deny you sleep for 9-10 days – it was first and second degree. In third degree, they strip you, stretch your legs at 180 degrees and tear it, so your private parts start bleeding. Sometimes, they take something called Surya Prakash oil and inject it into your anus – which creates burning. They use the chakki patta to beat your hands and feet and then waterboard you (put you on a see-saw, head down and then put water, which gives you the feeling that you are drowning),” one of the subjects told the author.

 I believe that the book could have benefitted with more such shocking truths.

Behind Bars, through its varied cases, does a notable job at highlighting the difference in the incarcerated lives of the rich and the poor, the educated and the illiterate, and the young and the old. It shows how, while the rich can continue to wear their Versaces and stilettos in prisons, the poor have to clean mountains of stool; while the educated can file applications and claim their rights, the illiterate languish without legal support; and while the young can stand up to the jail mafiosi, the old cower in corners, perpetually living in fear. It also has some interesting anecdotes about Charles Sobhraj and Nirbhaya’s rapists, who are not direct subjects of the book, but are engaging enough to have their space justified.

Through Choudhury’s smooth-flowing narrative, the book makes for an easy read. Her commendable access and references to chargesheets, court orders, research studies reassure the reader of her credibility, and builds faith in her content. The nitty-gritty does not get taxing, except for a few chapters which are heavy on the background, and in some cases, trivial details.

To illustrate, the 20-page opening chapter on politician Amar Singh has only a few lines about his four days in jail, a lot about his grudges against actor Amitabh Bachchan and other bigwigs who did not pay him a visit in prison. This, I understand, is because the author has relied heavily on information only from the people in question. A more holistic view and balance would have added to the book through interviews with the subjects’ families, and the police or jail authorities in question.

Another concern I have about this book is that a few issues, which are as pining and as integral to Indian prison life, get a passing mention that they deserve elaboration. These include homosexual rape in prisons, lack of conjugal visits and their innovative fixes, smuggling of weapons and drugs inside prisons, custodial escapes and deaths, and the function of crime syndicates from inside prisons. The book is a respectable initiative towards the commencement of a dialogue over life in Indian jails, which requires urgent attention. After all, it’s necessary that we alter this truth voiced by one of Choudhury’s politician subjects — law is a mistress of the powerful.

The writer is a journalist and author of the true crime book, The Front Page Murders