The Gloom Bloomed Prison Life

By Super

It was a cold December morning. Ujjain, the city of temples, was almost frozen in the chilling breeze that roamed around whistling a tune and carrying away few drops of ice cold water from the Holy river Shipra. I was into this holy city during my long journeys to grab a handful of knowledge from the deep sea of Indian philosophic thoughts and the rich spiritual heritage. As it was Thursday, usually a holiday, some one suggested a wonderful idea, a visit to prison, which of course, thrilled everyone. Mounting on our bicycles we peddled towards the nearby prison.

Huge stone walls with sharp nails and broken glasses fixed on the top, heavy metal gate with a pigeon door for communication with the sentry on duty, deadly silence all around; the entire atmosphere looked like synonyms of sadness and gloom. No cuckoos sang there, not even a wind passed over the walls. The only voice that heard from inside was the heavy stamping of boots. Stepping inside the prison looked more dreary. Cheerless prisoners with white uniforms walked in lines guarded by armed sentries. Few of them carried spades and shovels. We were witnessing a lifeless day in prison, as it always is...

Too err is human and to forgive is divine; but no administration today is inspired by the absolute divinity, and thus habituated to label the error doers as criminals and the only way left before any government is to isolate the so called criminals in prisons, which is in reality the abode of anguish and house of tears. The negative karmas, negative emotions, and disturbing attitudes.... reasons and accusations are endless for authorities to send an unwanted person to prison, who knows if all the prisoners are guilty enough... and who cares if innocents are made to taste the tears of prison life...

Modern prisons may not be centers of physical tortures and humiliations, prisoners may not go to bed with empty stomachs, but the freezing loneliness and curtailed freedom may do more than any hellish torture. Even the freedom to dream and hope is chained down in prisons; after all only those who sleeps will have dreams. You may be tempted to ask that, nutritious food (only on prison records) on time, tension-free life and no worries about future, so what is there that troubles a prisoner? A bird kept in a golden cage may never be enjoying the beauty of the cage, but the thirsty eyes will be looking at the sky, the world lost to him. Even though you provide all the comforts on earth to your bird but tying its wings, the struggles and hunger with freedom may taste better for it.