Emergency lights

Rohtak jail had been chosen to house a galaxy of opposition leaders, including Asoka Mehta, Chandra Shekhar, L.K. Advani, Biju Patnaik, Madhu Dandavate, Piloo Mody, Raj Narayan and Sikander Bakht. I, too, had the privilege of being incarcerated with this distinguished group before I was moved on to Hissar jail for associating too closely with these leaders.

Of the politicians there, Piloo Mody was perhaps the one who had had the least grassroots experience — born and bred up as he was in an aristocratic home. He was moved by the plight of the schoolboys, went to their barracks and sat with them. “Well, my boys, tell me what happened?” he began. They narrated their experiences, how they took out a procession — thereby violating Section 144 — how were taken to the thana, slapped and threatened as well as well as patted and cajoled. How they were taken to an undisclosed destination slapped around some more and then asked to go home. The boys then told their captors that they had not come to jail to go back home. They were asked what they wanted to do. The boys replied that they wanted to go to jail “because the whole country has been turned into a jail”.

Mody was thrilled at this account, and bought the boys a drink of fruit juice. Then he added, “Do you know what I feel like? I want to court arrest as you did and then be beaten up as you were! I want to be known as brave as you are!” One young member of the group wanted to know how he will be able to do this, seeing that he is already in jail. “Well, that’s easy,” replied Mody. “I will put in an apology. They will gladly release me and publicise the news. Then I will join a satyagraha, shout slogans like you did, get a good thrashing and come back here. Okay?”

There was a smile of vindication on every young face. Their protest had borne fruit.