A journey with a prisoner

It was hot outside. I could see a lot of people walking through the road weary of the heat. There were cops standing in the middle of the road and handling the traffic, sweating all over his face. There were women’s waiting for the bus covering their head with the tip of their sari. Street vendors were screaming the prices of each crop that they sell. And there were beggars beseeching through these people that passes by for the money to satiate their hunger, for the strength to survive another day. But they were all feeling a little luxury for the wind was blowing over them. Even if it was hot, they are experiencing the comfort of wind that every wind brings with.

The vehicles on the road has been blocked to make way for a VIP to pass by. The cops on duty informed the people sitting in their vehicles to wait for a few minutes as the car of the VIP will pass any minute. But as the minute’s passes by, the patience of those waiting started to lose and they started cursing. One hell of an afternoon, I thought.

The molten rays of sun were also hitting on me as well through the open window of the bus in which I am traveling. I was sweating and this balmy wind is making it dissolve to my skin pushing me into utter discomfort. I thought of closing the window but soon changed my mind. I am not ready to kill time staring at the cushion of the seat in front of me or the beauty of the lady conductor. It is better to see life outside rather than looking at the silence inside the bus.

It was then I heard a voice from beside me. The man sitting next to me in white dhoti and shirt. He was an aged man and was largely bearded. His eyes were weary with some pain that he carries in his mind. His voice has no strength as if a man who has lost everything. He looked at me and smiled and asked.

“Do you want to switch the seats? I can sit there if you want.”
Without any hesitation, I agreed. But I asked him to switch back when I ask him to and he nodded. Quickly, we changed our seats and I was totally relieved from the troubles that climate causes.

I thought “Who is this dumb man who invite trouble. Anyway, I will ask him to move back when the wheels start to roll again.”

There was silence after that small conversation for a few minutes. In all these minutes, this man kept on looking at the streets and people in great awe. I saw him smiling at a beggar that looked at him and they communicated something with expressions.

After a few minutes, he started to unfold the plastic cover folded in his lap and took out four packets of beedi. “Beedi” is a substitute for the cigarette that poor people use in India. It is made of dry leaves with tobacco rolled in it. He holds two packets of beedi together and started to tie them together with a rubber band he took out from his pocket. It was tightly tied.

I kept looking at what he was doing and he saw me minding his activities. But he was least bothered. The only botheration he had was about two cops in uniform sitting in the next seat from us, in the same row. While he tie the beedi, he peeks at them and observe their movements. It increased my curiosity.

“Why are you looking at them? Are you doing time in any prison?” I asked him.

The reason for I asked that is, in India, there is a practice of transporting the prisoners in government transports to other prisons and court in police protection. That is their only hope to mingle with the civilians.

“Yes. I am doing 20 years of time for a murder.” He replied.

I was shocked to hear that, in mind. But I managed to hear that without giving any excitement. This person felt really interesting to me. And I was happy that I am witnessing a life totally different from what I see daily. The influence of the writer and story lover in me insisted to converse with him. Not to kill time, but to hear what he has to say.

“Okay. So where are you going to?” I inquired.

“I am going back to my cell.”

When the cops in uniform found me talking with him, they stared at me. One man in a black skin rolled his eyeballs at me as if to make me fear him. But, I am not the man they think. I am a person who loves humans for what they are. I don’t need anyone’s permission to communicate with another human. So, I ignored them making them feel as I don’t really care there police tricks they use to fear the society.

We are struck in the traffic that holds vehicles for a VIP to pass by. They can spare their time for a person who values a goodwill in the society, but they don’t have any time or concern for those isolated from the society. For that, I hate the system. Everyone is equal and deserves respect, for they all are human unless they do any harm to you, personally, that takes something valuable about yourself. In this case, I don’t know this man and he hasn’t done anything bad to me. They why should I fear him? Why should I care what others think when I am talking to a person of my same kind, of humankind.

I turned back at him and said.

“They don’t like me talking to you. But I don’t care them.”

But he asked me another favor. A favor to cover him from the cops for some time. I did as he said. I covered him. He took the two packets of beedi’s tied together and started to shove it up his butt. His face advertised the pain he feels, but he didn’t back off. He shoved the packets inside his ass and reached for the other two.

“How many more hours to reach Trivandrum?” He asked.

“1 hour” I answered.

Trivandrum is the capital city of Kerala where lies the great prison in Kerala. They are taking him there to continue his time.

He then took out the other two packets and did the same. I was in wonder for how this man sticks it on his ass.

“How could you do that? Does it suit their.” I meant an explanation for what he did.

He grinned and told.” Most of the people doing time is capable of such things.”

“Such things?”

“Yeah. I will tell you. Most of the culprits who do time for life has been totally isolated from the society. Isolation means, the government will take away the pleasures and pains a person could feel when in the outside. There will be pain of freedom restricted in our mind, but there won’t be any botheration about how to live a day. They feed us and they shelter us.”

“So?” I asked for the continuation.

“So, many who do life sentences will turn homosexual due to their needs. We satisfy each other for we know the need that we urge. They are the people we see daily and they are the people we talk with daily. We sleep together, eat together, bath together and even work together. Then why can’t we satisfy each other?

His answer was very different from what I thought of. He admitted that he is a homosexual, that too with no shame. Because, he doesn’t bother about the society anymore. It’s when we live in a society, homosexuality turns to be a big thing, not when locked up.

I nodded.

Soon, a siren horned followed by the trail of vehicles accompanying the VIP. It was a white BMW. The cops saluted when the car passes them. Soon, the wheels started to roll again and the bus moved with speed. The cool wind started to fill the bus. The sweat dissolved fully and the journey started to turn good.

But, I didn’t ask him to switch the seat back. I allowed him to continue seeing the sights till he reach. Because, through him I am learning to enjoy all the small things in life.

“From where are you coming now?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer for that quickly. I had to repeat that question again politely. We have to be polite when talking to strangers, that’s my way.

“I am coming from a funeral.” He replied slowly.

“Whose?” my curiosity made me ask.

“My daughter’s.” he answered, looking away from me.

I don’t know what to say or what to ask again. I felt confused letting this conversation continue. I am curious to know more. Everyone will be curious, when comes to other person’s matters. But we need to manage that curiosity for it may hurt others mind and thoughts.

In his case, my first question has hurt him more. His thought seemed congested and disturbed. His eyes are trying to hold the tears which are ready to flow down his cheeks. But, somehow he is managing the situation. That is clear.

But he didn’t stop the conversation there. He continued his story.

“She killed herself yesterday. She jumped into the lake which is too deep. She never knew swimming. That’s why she chose that. She would always ask me, how it will be in the water too deep. She died getting an answer for her curiosity. But, she did suicide because she has been raped by some unknown people.”

I remained silent.

“She wouldn’t be dead if I was with her. That incident won’t get happened if I was free. Anti-socials will always targets those who lose strength and hope. After I was thrown into prison by law, there came no one to protect my family. They became lives who have no one to care for. Such lives is not valuable in any way to the society. When society avoids those, anti- socials takes chance of them. My daughter is a victim to such an act.”

When he finished his words, his eyes poured down the tears that he tried to hold. The police beside him asked him what the matter is. He lied to them and rubbed his eyes with his palm.

“Now, there is only my wife remains. I am sure that she will be dead by tomorrow. She will also kill herself rather than living without any hope. There should be hope to live. If hope dies, we dies. That’s the hidden fact, in every one’s life.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

I need to know what he has planned to do with his life. The way he said about hope, it says something indirectly. When looked deep in him, he doesn’t have any reason to live for. I kept my hand over him and pressed on it slowly.

“I don’t know.” He answered.

I nodded and looked outside. I was about to reach my stop. I stood up and took my bag from the carrier and turned to him to say goodbye.

“Let there be peace wherever you fare. It was nice meeting you and I will remember this day. Goodbye for my mind says we won’t see each other again “

My eyes filled with tears in this parting session. But, everyone should part one day for our time is set at another place for another things. Some meets and some fades. That’s how life is threaded.

“We won’t and Good bye son. Live good” he blessed me with words.

Days passed and I got involved in my things in life. It was then at one morning I heard a news from the media about the suicide of a prisoner. I was sure even before looking at the TV that it might be him and I was not wrong.

It was that man who shared with me a story that will always be different from what I hear through my ear and he will be remembered always. From the newspaper I got his name. It was Antony. We hasn’t shared our name in our conversation.

Anyway, what’s in name and age. What matters is concern, to the kind same as ours.