Road To Freedom

I was sent to prison in 1987 for murdering my neighbor. I was convicted for firing three bullets at him two of which hit him in the chest and one on the forehead. He died instantly. It was a cold-blooded murder for which no mercy can be expected from the judiciary. And quite rightly, they did not show me any mercy. I was sentenced to 20 years of imprisonment in that ‘jail’ of the country where only the most dangerous criminals are sent.

All this is true except that I didn’t commit the crime. Yes sir, I didn’t murder anyone. I just happened to be there at the scene of the crime. Our courts need a scapegoat if not a criminal in such cases. I was the scapegoat in this one.

THE FIRST DAY

A guard threw me into my cell and locked it from outside, thus separating me from the world for the next twenty years of my life. The cell was four feet by eight feet, barely sufficient for even a single person. I slumped to the ground and sat there motionless. The prisoners from the nearby cells watched me intently as if I was a creature from another world. I sat there with my knees in my hands and thought about my life. What had happened? What had I come to? What can I expect from my life after getting out of this place? My wife would have married someone else by the time I get out. My children would not recognize me. My business would have been ruined. That was the life waiting for me on the outside but before that I had to serve twenty years of a life sentence in this prison. Twenty years!! Was it worth it? Was there any point in leading a tortured life here in the prison and then going out to meet a life which no longer wants you. Wouldn’t it be better if I ended it all here itself. That was the question I posed to myself. Yes, I was contemplating suicide. I had thought of it all the way to the prison but now, once I was in here, the feeling grew stronger.
Just then, I heard a voice.
“Hey, What’s your name, fellow? I am Rahim”, said a voice.
I looked around and figured out that this must be the man in the cell next to mine.
“I don’t want to talk to anybody. Leave me alone”, I said in a dejected tone.
“Hmm…Ok…at least tell me what are you in for? Murder? Arson? Or Rape and murder”, he laughed. “ You see, we guys have groups in here based on the crimes we had committed. Ha Ha. I just want to know if you belong to my group. Hahaha…”, he said.
A sudden rush of energy passed through me and I shouted at him “Shut up. Shut up. You find it amusing. You don’t even know what happened to me. You bastard.”
“Oh ya. What happened. Tell me. May be I can help you out.”, he was still laughing.
Something took over me. I don’t know why I felt that he can really help me.
“I didn’t murder anyone. It was a false charge. Now I am in here to rot.”, I said silently.
“So you are in for murder. Well, if it’s any consolation, you will be the part of the largest group here. Hehe.
Don’t feel bad now. There’s nothing you can do about it”, he said.
“Oh yeah. Then how am I supposed to feel. Should I rejoice.”, I replied, irritated.
“Well, let me tell you one thing boy. It’s a prison as long as you think it’s a prison. Think of it as your playground. Always remember one thing. Wherever you go and whatever you do, you live your entire life in the confines of your head”, he said slowly, as if teaching me something.
“Not if it’s a short life.”, I shot back.
“Hey, are you thinking of suicide. Ha. C’mon, what are you. A little sissy girl. Be a man. Face your life.”,he replied.
“What do you know about me. What do you know about my life.”, I said.
“Nothing, to be honest. All I know is that whatever happened in your past, you can still live your dreams. Why throw away your life by committing suicide? Give it another chance.”, he tried to convince me.
“There’s no point. Dreams are over. My life is over.”, I replied.
“C’mon. Promise me you won’t kill yourself today and we’ll talk it over tomorrow”, he said with a hint of urgency in his tone.
“What makes you so interested in me?”, I laughed back.
“That’s my profession, Sir. Hehe. C’mon promise me you won’t do the silly thing today. C’mon!!”, he pushed me.
I finally gave in. “OK. I won’t. But I want to rest now. Will talk to you tomorrow. “, I said.
That ended the beginning of my life.


THE JOURNEY

The next day, I came to know that Rahim had been in there for five years, with fifteen more to go. He used to be a Professor in an Arts college and was convicted for murdering one of his students!! He met me at the field where we had to work everyday.
“Hi. You didn’t tell me your name yesterday.”, he asked with a smile on his face and an extended hand.
“Sameer”, I replied shaking his hand. It was nice to see such civil behavior in a prison.
“Thank you for keeping your promise. What did you do on the outside”, he enquired.
We kept on talking and he enquired virtually everything about me. In the process, I too came to know some things about his past. It seemed awkward that a man like Rahim could murder someone.
We talked about what I can do to keep myself busy. Honestly, it didn’t interest me in the beginning but he kept at it. In a few days, Rahim made me realize how much I liked writing. Yes, that was the magic of the man.
He encouraged me to start writing in my cell. I was hesitant at first but with Rahim you just cannot win.
Ultimately, I gave in and requested the Officer-in-charge for a pen and some paper. He was kind enough to help.
So that’s how it came to pass. I started writing short fictional stories in my spare time. Rahim would read them and correct any grammatical errors I made. By now we were good friends and spent the better part of the day together.
I once asked him “Did you really kill him. Or are you innocent?”
“How does it matter. Now that I am in here, this is my life and I have got to give it my best.”, he smiled.
Some years went by. One day he asked me “Why don’t you get your stories published. I mean you write well. Your stories are good.”
“C’mon, who would want to read some crap written by a prisoner”, I replied.
“Well, you can give it a shot. l bet my ass you will get some readers. Just ask the officer to arrange it for you. We are, at least, entitled to do so.”, he said.
“Are you serious? You really think this can be done”, I asked him incredulously.
“Give it a shot” was all he said.
I asked the officer and after some fifteen requests he yielded. My stories were sent to a small publishing house best known for publishing mystery novels of the third grade. They obviously had no interest in anything which cannot boast of some murdurous plots and mysteries. It went on for fifteen months. We contacted many publishing houses but none of them agreed to print my stories.
Then one day, in 1994, finally a publishing house agreed to print my stories. The money I got was meager but it hardly mattered. I wrote two books, one after another, but didn’t get a good audience like Rahim had predicted. “Keep at it. You will succeed. C’mon Sameer. It takes something to be a man. “, he would say to me.
So, I wrote another one and with this book, all his prophecies came true. The book was a best seller. People loved it. Overnight, I became famous as the murderer who can write brilliant stories!! In 1997, I wrote another one and struck gold. By now, I was a famous name and Rahim was my best critic. He always used to say that he had some money on the outside and once we both get out, we can start our own publishing company and publish my stories ourselves. That would make both of us rich. I liked the idea, more because I would be able to work with Rahim. He was a dreamer and he dreamed big. He dreamed for himself, he dreamed for me. He would never talk of failures. It seemed as if he didn’t care about them. All he cared about was living your life to the best of your abilities.
I kept on writing. Some more years went by. It was the year 2001 and Rahim was about to be released in a few months.

THE DEATH AND THE OLD MAN

I was working in the field when a fellow inmate came with the news. Rahim had died working in another part of the field. They said that he died of a heart attack. I rushed to the site and saw him lying on the ground. I just stood there without talking to anybody, The sight of him lying there dead filled me with grief. Rahim had left us. Even then, he looked at peace.
But after his death, peace left me. I became more agitated than ever before. May be I was not able to come to terms with the fact that he had left us. Some days after his death, an old man, a veteran of eighteen years in the prison, came to me.
“ How are you doing Sameer. I know Rahim’s death must have not gone down well with you.’, he asked.
“Yeah, he was about to get out. I like to believe he was innocent”, I said.
“I think so too. He was not a man who could kill somebody.”, the old man replied.
“He didn’t die alone. His dreams died with him. He always kept smiling in the hope that one day he would be on the other side of the wall, that one day we would publish my books. Goddamn it. Its all bullshit. You don’t get out of this place. No one does. I’ll die in here too. He kept on smiling all these years but what did he get? What did he achieve? He died in here. NOBODY, nobody out there knows that Rahim has died. Nobody cares!!”, I shouted in agony.
“You cared about him. Didn’t you?”, the old man asked me silently.
“Yes”, I said with my eyes wet.
“You know what was his achievement. Rahim had told us all to never tell you this but I think now you have to listen. Before you came here, Rahim tried to help out nine other guys just like he helped you. He tried to motivate them, give them the fighting spirit. Rahim did not give up on any one of them but they gave up on themselves. All those nine people committed suicide, fed up of this place. But Rahim didn’t loose faith He never gave up. You came next and he helped you. He helped you become the man you are today, he helped you become the famous writer you are today. You ask me what was his achievement. Well, you are his biggest achievement. You are his success!! He taught you to never give up. He taught you to fight your way in life. He made a man out of you. You say that he died a failure. I say that he was an immensely successful man.”, the old man said.


Five years later, I got out of the prison. Today I am a successful writer. I live in Goa and intend to spend rest of my life here. A life I owe to Rahim. He taught me how to live. He taught me how to find opportunities in the darkest of places. But most importantly, he taught me one thing. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, you live your whole life in the confines of your head.” You can be free yet sad or you can be a prisoner yet content, like I was with Rahim. You can give up and throw it all away or you can live your dreams even when you have nothing left with you but your will to succeed.
Rahim showed me the Road to freedom. Freedom from fear, freedom from my past, freedom from the Sameer who wanted to kill me on that fateful day of 1987. He gave me the life I live today and I shall honor it.