IT was in a fit of rage that Hitesh Shah, 35, a bespectacled Surat-based diamond merchant, killed his friend. But the reforms programme at the Nashik Road Central Jail (NRCJ) have left him a changed man.
In prison, he graduated, is now pursuing a degree and ‘‘I also write ghazals’’. The love and respect Shah has received inside jail makes him believe ‘‘there is more humanity inside prisons,’’ he says.
Inspired by the V Shantaram hit Do Aankhen Baaraah Haath which depicted the transformation of even hardcore criminals, Senior Superintendent Hiralal Jadhav initiated a reforms programme six months ago for NRCJ’s 2,600 inmates.
Not only was the programme a success, but it’s making waves with India Inc, with corporates launching industrial units inside, using the—admittedly cheap—labour available in the prison.
‘‘The inmates are already supplying elastic tapes for VIP bags and cutting stainless steel sheets for Mahindra & Mahindra,’’ says Jadhav, who has a Masters in Social Work from the Pune University in 1992.
This April, Jadhav reveals, CEAT tyres will commence a nut and bolt industrial unit inside. ‘‘I have just held a meeting with Hindustan Lever Limited officials and finalised plans for a uniform-stitching service,’’ says the soft-spoken superintendent.
It’s Jadhav’s ingenuity and enthusiasm and principal secretary (Home) Neela Satyanarayana’s support that has brought in the change. At NRCJ, male prisoners undergo courses to become plumbers, barbers, electricians, screen printers, masons and laundrymen, while the women can become beauticians or can learn tailoring. Many inmates also enroll for higher education and computer courses, they stage dramas, perform musical soirees and join the jail’s 16-member band.
Money no bar
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Turnover (in Rs lakh) of some jail industries |
AND change is visible. Sixty-seven-year-old prisoner Bon Rego says he’s ‘‘proud’’ of where he’s spending his sentence. ‘‘Everything is good. No complaints,’’ says Rego, in spiffy English.
The prison library also has over 12,000 books. For entertainment there are carromboards and chessboards.
‘‘The aim is to awaken the prisoners’ mind and teach them skills to earn a livelihood,’’ Jadhav says. ‘‘After all, there’s life after their terms are over.’’
This ‘awakening’ has encouraged industries to blend social commitments and business. ‘‘We are doing this essentially for a cause, but in the long run it will be a win-win situation for both,’’ confesses P K Ramakrishnan, executive director, VIP.
‘‘Labour is cheaper at the prison,’’ Jadhav agrees, adding that semi-skilled workers are paid just Rs 17 per day, whereas their skilled counterparts earn Rs 25.50 per day. ‘‘But more importantly, the inmates are constructively occupied.’’
Existing jail industries continue to do well. ‘‘The jail saw a turnover of over Rs 35 crore,’’ says Hardik Mamania, director of student organisation Khoj, which shot a documentary on NRCJ’s transformation.
A day in the life of a prisoner
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‘‘In fact, all soaps used by government hospitals in Maharashtra are made at NRCJ’s soap-making unit,’’ says Mamania, pointing out the unit’s Rs 47 lakh turnover in 2003-04.
Buoyed by the project’s success, Satyanarayana plans to expand on the idea. ‘‘Maharashtra’s nine central jails will also start the programme and we need the help of industries,’’ she says, adding that the jail will soon commence a cooperative bank for its inmates.
And for Jadhav, more’s to come. ‘‘We have applied and will be the first ISO 9001-certified central prison in India,’’ he says.