Behind the imposing walls of Tihar jail, Sanjay Baniwal is crafting a story of hope for prisoners who have found the routine horrible and the horrible routine in India's maximum-security prison.
Mr Baniwal, the new Director General, Prisons, is just five months into his job, and not a rude enforcer. He wants to be the change agent in a 211-acre jail that is the largest prison complex in South Asia and had once reeked of overflowing toilets, cramped quarters, and lawlessness.
He does not look like the stereotypical jailor Bollywood has portrayed for decades. He wears linen shirts with matching cotton trousers, drinks water from copper flasks and routinely breaks bread with the inmates.
His office has the stylishness of glass-covered tables, tangerine leather sofas and elegant, skinny chairs - all produced by prisoners. At times, the environment feels more like a boutique hotel than a top-class prison.
"I want to give them honour, and a new life and dignity of being Indian," Mr Baniwal, a 1989 batch IPS officer, said in an exclusive interview.
Prime Minister Narendra Modi and Home Minister Amit Shah have reiterated in recent interactions with bureaucrats that more emphasis should be given to skill development programmes and efforts must be made to cut down overcrowding in prisons. Both the Prime Minister and the Home Minister also said prison administration is an important part of the internal security of the country and the way in which prisons are seen in society also needs to change.
Mr Baniwal is seen as a reformer working overtime to ensure a new life for prisoners.
It is not an easy job to reform prisoners living behind iron-gated small, compartmentalised cells. Some are bloody stubborn. If handed utensils for some special cooking courses, someone could use them to smash a fellow prisoner. They are often at each other's throats for something as basic as onions for dinner.
In short, many prisoners care two hoots for such reforms. But that's a risk Mr Baniwal has already taken.
Consider this one. The prisoners of Jail Number 4 are now being trained to handle catering assignments outside Tihar with permission from the courts. The hospitality courses are held every day in the jail complex. There are chances the inmates will get jobs through a placement programme held inside the jail complex.
"I know I am in jail and not in a business school," laughs Mr Baniwal. Efforts are on to involve the judiciary to secure the release of the prisoners based on their record and the gravity of the offence.
Noted social scientist Ashish Nandy says it is a great humanitarian effort and will bring in some effective changes in society. "Other jails should start such programmes to transform lives."
Gaurang Jani, a sociologist from Ahmedabad, talked about the Boris Becker experience in a UK jail. The three-time Wimbledon men's singles champion served eight months of his two-and-a-half-year sentence for hiding his assets and loans in a bankruptcy fraud case.
Mr Becker told BBC Radio 5 Live Breakfast: "Whoever says that prison life isn't hard and isn't difficult, I think is lying. It was a very brutal ... a very, very different experience to what you see in the movies, what you've heard from stories."
"In some cases, wives are being encouraged to visit their husbands, mothers come in to meet their sons and daughters. If someone is changing this perception of jail then it is commendable," says Mr Jani.
The other remarkable thing is how quiet Tihar is. There isn't any of the enraged, persistent banging of doors you hear in UK jails, prisoners in Tihar are not locked up much during the day.
Inside the sprawling complex of Jail Number 4, prisoners dress up like five-star hotel butlers and chefs, cook light meals and offer the finest Macchiato, or a Furtado. Tihar smells of freshly brewed coffee.
While the guests eat, one of them takes the mic and sings - backed with karaoke music - like a professional. A veteran inmate wears gloves and guides the chef. He once owned a top hotel in the Indian Capital and has spent over seven years in Tihar on an alleged murder charge.
"The jail has turned me into a better person," says the inmate. He cannot be named per the jail manual. The case is still on.
The Primero Skills in partnership with Tihar Jail works under the aegis of National Urban Livelihood Mission. As many as 1,020 will gain skill training. Mr Baniwal knows the hospitality industry is one of the biggest employers in India; jobs come with accommodation. He has reached out to Haldiram's and has asked them to hire as many as 25,000 inmates on their release. The Kolkata-based fast-food giant has promised to do it.
It is a lot of work.
The jailor of Jail number 4, Gaurav Yadav, a DANICS 2014 batch IPS officer, keeps a close watch on prisoners allowed to take special cooking classes. Isn't it a risk to let loose so many prisoners? Mr Yadav, who looks like a Bollywood action hero, says he is not worried. He is like the Masai in Mara, he knows lions can attack anytime.
Mr Yadav says Mr Baniwal has other plans. The jail complex once hosted Tihar Idol on the lines of the popular reality show, The Indian Idol. And now there are efforts to start a TiharFM like a full-fledged channel. It currently works on the public address model, blended with songs, interviews with dignitaries visiting Tihar and some live shows.
"We need to nurture some talent," says Mr Yadav.
Mr Baniwal says that is the challenge of Tihar. You walk with the fear of violence, the fear of death. A sudden attack can happen anytime and can prove to be fatal. "You have to be a part of the system to change the system. As the day ends, everyone returns to their cells. Let me shape their mornings with peace and hope," says Beniwal.
The jailor has encouraged prisoners to use plaster of Paris to create statues of the meditating Buddha, Kali, the Goddess of Dark and Krishna, the love god. Some use fluorescent colours to paint bright flowers on the walls of the prison. Some create top-end furniture, including the spinning wheels Mahatma Gandhi used. Some weave lovely carpets and rugs. It's all for sale.
Mr Baniwal wants to remove the impression that a prison is a very dark place.
The jailor says he wants the prisoners to understand it's not just the sense of peril, reeking toilets and cramped quarters. And the impression that nobody cares and that if you are inside a jail, you are doomed for life.
"I do not want the inmates to feel that this is a run-down, lawless prison. Once they are inside the jail, their egos are stripped to the bare bones. After all, a jail is a strange place, certainly far away from relatives and other loved ones," says Mr Baniwal.
Once, the inmates knew they had only one choice: To be the hunter or the hunted. It was like a deadly wolf-rabbit game. Those who weren't wolves learned to become them fast in order to survive. The other word that came to their mind was danger. So, they always looked to hope when the squeaky locks of their iron gates opened every morning.
"I am offering the inmates a smile of sympathy, and a new life," says Mr Baniwal. He is both humane and eloquent.
"Jail binds you at three levels. Physical restriction comes first. The frustration of not being heard and the inability to get out comes next. And losing every luxury of life is third," says Mr Baniwal.
Mr Baniwal has scaled up timings for phone calls - it eased up things. The inmates fell in line, and now they know they cannot do anything without consent and assistance.
How do people react when they walk in?
The super-rich fall silent the moment they enter the prison. They are in a state of shock and demand isolation from fellow inmates. A significant number struggle with mental illness.
One such person - Mr Baniwal will not name him - came up to the jailor and asked if he could hold his hands. "I have not held someone's hands in as many days. Can I hold your hand?" Mr Baniwal spent some time with the person. The elderly, rich inmate just could not accept the fact that he was in Tihar.
"I gave him comfort; I know the jail can break you. Those accused of white-collar crimes just cannot handle it," says Mr Baniwal.
Tihar, for long, has been dysfunctional, decrepit and dangerous. Mr Baniwal's work is premised on two related ideas. First, he has reminded himself that all lives are fundamentally and equally valuable and second, people can grow and change and come to know themselves better even in small, dark spaces.
What about those in the condemned cells? That's a tough one - the inmates know there is no more fight for life. Regardless of whether you accept it or not, you are part of the death row community now.
And there is no life after death.
It's late afternoon. Visitors outside Tihar have thinned, it is time for the inmates to enter their cells. In every way of life, they have learned the true sense of freedom.
And the absence of it.
(Shantanu Guha Ray is the Asia Editor of Central European News. He is the author of 'Black Harvest: The India Coal Story' that will hit the stands in a few months. He is contributing editor, BQ Prime.)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author.
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