The Gloom Bloomed Prison Life ...Contd

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No one on earth is born as a criminal or culprit. It is this society, the circumstances one has to face in his life, and after all some unwritten fate that one passes through make him a culprit or criminal. It is a general fact that most of the prison inmates reach this hell of gloom for loosing control over emotions may be for a fraction of a second. It is not that all those who end up in prisons are born to be criminals and it is utmost stupidity to say that prisoners are in prison just because each of them are threats to society.

What the prisoner, the judiciary and the society will benefit from prisons? Will it make a prisoner to turn to the most tolerant and spiritual person on earth once he completes his tenure? Will prisons help judiciary to punish and maintain crime doers effectively? Will society be crime free just because it has prisons and judiciary to make people afraid of crimes?... The only answer to all these questions is a big 'no'... If prisons could make people saints, multitudes would have rushed into prisons, especially in countries like India, which is the hub of spirituality and where life values are the most sought after. If prisons could maintain society and rectify human behaviour, it should be prisons not schools and colleges we would have established. Prisons, from all the view points, aim to a single point; the emotional torturing of inmates and thus weakening their mental strength.

Prison is a land in which no sun rises with heat of life and no moon appears with the comfort of sleep. Nor are there stars to blink at you when you smile in your sleep on a dream. No tunes heard here except for the echo of the sighs of inmates. In prisons there are no individuality to anyone. You are recognised and by a number labeled on your rag-like outfits. The judiciary, that is so enthusiastic to send people into prisons even for minute mistakes they commit, often forgets that prisoners are people with a body that may shiver with cold when sleeping on bare floor, and they ignore that the prisoners have a mind like anyone outside that may feel pain when beaten up and their tears are as salty as anyone outside.

Talking to few of the prisoners and sharing some sweets brought for them, we bid goodbye to them. While crossing the prison gate we turned back for a moment... Holding the tears we waved our hands to the lined up friends who are ill fated to be shut in prisons. Every one among us was unusually silent as we returned and I felt a nameless pain clung to some unknown corners of mind. The December was still showering mist drops all around, may be as a silent protest against the cruelties of the world.