Prisoner's Diary II: Troubled Dreams, Troubled Times

It was quite remarkable. His increase to the top echelons of Arthur was nothing short of a spectacle in a Salim-Javed movie. He had made quite a mark for himself in his short tenure at Arthur. He was called ‘Juggler’ by his inmates - for all his accounts of forgery and jugaad. He was - as his ‘Arthur seniors’ said- at the pink of his prison age - An age when you are young but yet enjoy the clout and privileges that a senior would have. He was in the right company. Knowing the right people was just so important - whether in prison or out of it. He had learnt it long back during his time on the streets. He had been elevated to comforts that others would probably not have.

Like the game of dice at deCosta’s place. Most inmates – especially young ones - would consider themselves fortunate enough to stand along with the Arthur greats. There was an unwritten rule that prohibited anyone less than ten years from even visiting The Adda. But for Juggler, things were different. He had acquired that enigmatic persona at Arthur. Rules were bent – just to accommodate him at the Adda. He was good at it. People would bet on him to win. And certainly they did. He had almost acquired that Midas touch – something Sam ‘Ace’ Rostein would boast of.

But today things seemed different. He was not a part of the routine sessions at Arthur. He kept to himself throughout the day. Something was eating him up all over again. The last six years seemed to have razed out everything but for his shock at the loss of people’s trust. He was not the ‘Juggler’ – that people at Arthur knew. It was as if the clocks had gone back by six years. And he was the new inmate at Arthur. It was evening.

“Over all men and material, people fawn the crown
Behind the glass ceiling -in a world of their own
All that I felt, all that I thought;
Was a world I was 'shown', driven by hindsight?
I was just a sheep in the crowd.
For a few men ruled, and thousand enslaved
Whom do I fear?
Was it my thought? Was it my past?
Was it the crown? Was it – the unknown?
But a fear lurked. Took away my freedom
And I am – what I always was.
An outsider - always an outsider

Life has often perplexed me with such enduring thoughts,
About how am I being perceived by the society?
How my old friends taking to this ‘changed self’.

As we go ahead in life, we change for the good or for the bad.
But we change for sure.
As they say – change is the only constant.
And sadly in my case, I changed for the bad.

The point of introspection is to investigate the things –
That I was ready to accept as a part of this change,
Or who is ultimately affected by this change in me.
Thereby, understanding ‘me’ would be my biggest challenge right now.
For all that I do, least that I can do, is to try and understand
What I truly think and represent!!”

And such went the day. He had been confused before. But never did he take up things with such radical intensity. But today was different. He thought about his people -people whom he had trusted all his life. He seemed shattered. He was deserted. He wanted to cry - cry out loud. But he had been a part of ‘men’; and crying was nothing but a cowardly act. His life on the street had just concreted that strong exterior. He was not able to spout out that feeling inside him. He had barely spoken with anyone about this.

Dham! Dham! He got up with a jerk. It was the warden. He was back to reality. He looked at the place around. It was his prison. “Kya Mishra sahib…? “, he grumbled. But the warden did not speak anything. Not one filthy word floated around. The warden just gazed at him. He looked back. A smirk ran across his face. He had ‘graduated’ recently. The warden would never mess around with him now. But the sheer shrillness in the eyes of the warden once again reminded him of his days as a ‘novice’. That infectious smirk infuriated the warden. He banged his truncheon on the prison door. There was nothing else the warden could do. The past six years had reduced the warden to such frivolous manifestations of anger. The warden made his way through the dark corridor. And he dozed off. It was a troubled night for him. And his companion – the cockroach was back after his daily chores.