I didn’t care about my reputation, I didn’t even think and bothered whether the jail is a dangerous place, I just wanted to experience about prisoners’ cases and feelings inside the jail. Though we have read about prisoners’ stories in books and novels, it is not always enough as a writer and a journalist. We have seen them in the movies and we have heard about their sufferings inside the jail by people and that is the reason I accepted to spend twenty-four hours in jail to live in their shoes and feel.
Three toilets, a corridor, and six cells, and in each cell there were around five to seven prisoners were sleeping. All cells were fixed with air conditions. Nobody was permitted to take anything inside with him. “Can’t it be a good idea to carry a book at least to read?” I asked myself. The food was good and healthy.
Here, my story goes. Drinking wine and driving a car is against the police law. I was not drunk but was caught because of drinking and driving. “May I have your driving license?” said the policeman, politely. I showed him the license. “Where do you come from?” he asked. “I am coming from the nightclub,” I answered. “Did you drink?” he again asked. “Yes, I did, but I am not drunk and I can drive and know well where I am going, now,” I replied. “You are drunk, it is shown from your eyes which are red, the sign of drunk”, he embarrassed me. “It is pointless to argue in such situation,” I persuaded myself and entered the cell.
“Welcome to the jail. Tell us your story. What made you to come, here?” four of prisoners asked me with one voice. “Because of drunk,” I simply replied and went to sleep.
The journey began in the morning by questioning and answering with each other. “I was celebrating with friends and while I was driving to home and got caught as I was drunk,” the American prisoner said. However, his accent was not American. He looked very upset and was feeling guilty inside.
Still, five hours to go as he was waiting for the time to come to be released. He was looking at the wall clock. It still was 9:15 am. “I crossed the traffic lights and was sentenced to jail for thirty-six hours,” he said.
A young man was standing on the wall, looked excited. “I drove over speed. I drove 200km per hour,” he said. “What is your qualification,” I asked him. “I did not study, I am not an educated,” he answered, aggressively. I noticed he was lying and finally he agreed that he studied engineering. So he was an engineer.
“The man who is sitting and talking to the group was arrested because he fought with someone,” another young man said to our group.
“I have done my Master in Business Administration. I have my own business, the business of real estate. I like reading and writing. These are my hobbies. Since you guys are younger than me, I suggest you read three to four hours every day,” I replied when they asked about me.
“Now, you did the Master in Business and reading and writing are your hobbies,” I am confused and don’t understand you, one of them clarified.
“Have you ever heard about Dr. Che Guevara? He was a motorcyclist in his college days. He became a medical doctor. He was a philosopher. He was an economist. He finally became a revolutionary man. So who was he?” I explained and justified myself.
In the same jail, there were three other prisoners who looked like famous personalities. One was similar to Saddam Hussain and was silenced all the day. Another one looked like Gadhafi, who was the most senior in the jail. The last one was similar to Ali Bahar, the Bahraini singer.
Disclaimer: Views expressed in this article are those of the author and Balochistan Voices not necessarily agrees with them.
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