MY JAIL EXPERIENCES-II

[Prof. Dr. Yogendra Yadav]

Prof. Dr. Yogendra Yadav

Gandhian Scholar

Gandhi Research Foundation, Jalgaon, Maharashtra, India

Contact No. – 09415777229, 094055338

E-mail- [e-mail];[e-mail]

 

 

MY JAIL EXPERIENCES-II

 

 

 It was on Saturday the 18th March that the trial was finished. We were looking forward to a quiet time in the Sabarmati Jail at least for some weeks. We had expected that the Government would not let us remain in that jail for any length of time. We were, however, not prepared for the very sudden removal that actually did take place. For, the reader may recall that we were removed on Monday the 20th March to a special train which was to take us to the Yeravda Central Jail. We were made aware of the proposed removal only about an hour before departure. The officer-in-charge was all politeness and we were enabled to feel perfectly comfortable on the journey. But, immediately on alighting at Kirkee, we observed the difference and were made to feel that we were prisoners after all. The Collector and two others were awaiting the train. We were put in a motor prison-van which had perforations for ventilators. But for its hideous appearance, it could well be a purdah motor. Certainly, we could see nothing of the outside world. For the story of our reception at the Jail, the tearing away of Mr. Banker from me, his restoration, the first interview, and kindred interesting details, I must refer the reader to my letter to Hakimji Ajmal Khan Saheb, already published in these columns.

After the first unpleasantness, the relations between the then Superintendent, col. Dalziel, and ourselves rapidly improved. He was most considerate regarding our creature comforts. But there was a certain something about him which always jarred. He would never forget that he was Superintendent and we were prisoners. He would not let it be granted that we were fully aware that we were prisoners and he was Superintendent. I made bold to say that we never once forgot that we were prisoners. We showed him all the deference due to his rank. The reminders were so unnecessary. But he had the needlessly haughty demeanour which one often regretfully notices about so many British officials. This weakness of his made him distrustful of the prisoners. Let me give a pleasant illustration of what I mean. He was most anxious that I should eat more than I was taking. He wanted me to take butter. I told him I could take only goat’s milk butter. He gave special orders that it should be procured at once. Well, it came. The difficulty was what to mix it with. I suggested that some flour might be issued to me. It was given. But it was too coarse for my very delicate digestive apparatus. Refined mill flour was ordered and 20 lbs. was issued to me. What was I to do with all this? I cooked or Mr. Banker cooked for me chapatis. After some trial, I felt I needed neither flour nor butter. I asked that the flour may be removed from me and the issue of butter stopped. Col. Dalziel would not listen. What was issued was issued. I might feel tempted later.

I pleaded that it was all waste of public money. I gently suggested that, I was as solicitous about the use of public money as I would be about my own. There was an incredulous smile. I then I said, “Surely, it is my money.” “How much have you contributed to the public treasury?” was the quick retort. I humbly replied, “You contribute only a percentage out of the salary you get from the State, whereas I give the whole of myself, labour, intelligence and all.” There was a loud burst of suggestive laughter. But I did not collapse for I believed what I said. A labourer like me who labours for the State for mere maintenance contributes more to the State than a Viceroy who receives Rs. 20,000 together with royal residencies and contributes to the State, if his salary be not income-tax-free, a certain percentage of his salary. It becomes possible for him and those who belong to the system of which he is the chief to receive what he does out of the labour of millions. And yet many Englishmen and some Indians honestly believe that they serve the State (whatever the word may mean to them) more than the labourers and, in addition, contribute from their very salaries a percentage towards the upkeep of the State. There never was a grosser fallacy or a more absurd presumption than this modern belief in self-righteousness. But I must return to the gallant Colonel.

I have given the pleasantest sample of Col. Dalziel’s haughty distrust. Will the reader believe that I had to carefully preserve the flour till the advent of Major Jones who took Col. Dalziel’s place when the latter acted for the Inspector-General of Prison? Major Jones was the very reverse of Col. Dalziel. From the very first day of his arrival, he became friends with the prisoners. I have a vivid recollection of our first meeting. Although he came with Co. Dalziel with becoming ceremonial, there was a refreshing absence of officialdom about him. He greeted me familiarly and talked about my fellow-prisoners in Sabarmati and conveyed their regards too, which he said they had sent. Though a strict disciplinarian, he never stood on his dignity. I have rarely met an official, whether European or Indian, so free from humbug or false notions of prestige and dignity. He was ready to confess errors—a dangerous and rare practice with Government officials. He once awarded punishment not to a ‘political’ prisoner, but to a helpless bona-fide criminal. He subsequently came to learn that the punishment was not deserved. He straightway and without any pressure from outside cancelled it and made the following remarkable entry: ‘I repent for my decision’ in the prisoner’s history ticket. The accurate manner in which the prisoners sum up superintendents is truly amazing. Major Jones was bahot bhala.

They had nicknames for every one of the officials. To finish, however, the story of my attempt to save the flour and other superfluous articles of diet. At Major Jones’s very first visit of inspection I requested that what I did not need should be cut off. He immediately gave orders that my request should be complied with. Col. Dalziel distrusted my motives; his successor took me at my word and he allowed me to make all the changes I wanted in the interest of economy, never once suspecting that I could be guilty of mental reservations. Another official with whom we early came in contact was, of course, the Inspector-General of Prisons. He was stiff, monosyllabic and gave one the impression that he was severe. His reserve was peculiarly his own and most uncomfortable for poor prisoners. Most officials being deficient in imagination often do unintentional injustices. They refuse to see the other side. They will not have patience to listen to prisoners and expecting from them prompt, coherent replies, and failing to get them, succeed in giving wrong decisions. Visits of inspection are often, therefore, a farce and almost invariably result in the wrong men-bullies or sycophants-being favored. The right man, the silent humble prisoner will not be heard. Indeed, most of the officials frankly admit that their duty is confined to keeping the prisoners sanitarily clean, preventing prisoners from fighting one another or from absconding and keeping them healthy. I must consider in the next chapter one of the sad results of this mentality.