In the Emergency jail

We were young students full of idealism. I got together a few student activists. Among them were Vijay Goel, now an MP from Delhi, and Rajat Sharma, now a well-known TV personality. We organised a large group of students and youth activists in the Delhi University campus. The crowd had swelled to a few hundreds. Goel, with his customary enthusiasm, hurriedly prepared an effigy of the government. We organised the first and, perhaps, the only protest of the day. We marched from college to college shouting slogans against the government and reached the Vice-Chancellor’s office. There I delivered a speech and burnt the effigy. We could see hundreds of policemen gathering around. I knew that I had to be arrested. I advised my colleagues to slip out and continue the protests and offered myself for the arrest. I was taken to the Civil Lines police station where I heard that the Emergency had been proclaimed and the newspapers were subjected to censorship. Mass arrests were going on all over the country. A detentionorder was served on me and I was taken to the Tihar jail.

Conditions in the jail were pathetic. The wards were not equipped to take the load. Newspapers were not permitted. For the first few days the source of information was limited to the new detenus who kept pouring in. After about 10 days, the jail superintendent arrived in the ward and announced a list of about 20 names. We were asked to assemble in the jail office along with our baggage. Late in the evening, we were taken to the Ambala jail.

The detenus were a mix of political workers mostly from the Jan Sangh, the RSS and the ABVP and some from the old Congress and various socialist factions. There were some activists of the Naxalite movement, Ananda Marg and Jamat-e-Islami. Political differences did not prevent bonhomie amongst the detenus. The Ananda Margis would dance in one corner to the tune of Baba Naam Kewalam and repeated the sentence in different rhythmic modes several times. The activists of Jamat-e-Islami were all committed to their ideological philosophy but cultured in their behaviour. The conditions here were stricter than in Delhi but the jail was cleaner. The food allowance under the conditions of detention order was Rs 3 per day. After a hunger strike, this was increased to Rs 5 per day. After protests, we were given newspapers to be shared among us. These were hardly of any use since they were totally censored and carried columns eulogising the government.

There was a sycophantic build-up of both Indira Gandhi and her son Sanjay. The government had announced a 20-point economic programme and Sanjay added five points to it. The great M. F. Hussain painted Indira Gandhi as Durga. Yamini Krishnamurthy performed a dance to the tune of the 20-point programme and some religious leaders talked of the programme as the 19th chapter of the Bhagwad Gita. One of India’s tallest citizens, Acharya Vinoba Bhave, hailed the Emergency as Anushashan Parva, a festival of discipline.

Besides the detention orders, false prosecutions were filed under the Defence of India Rules. Not one police officer stood up to resist the registration of fraudulent FIRs. Not one district magistrate stood up to say that he would not issue a detention order under Maintenance of Internal Security Act in the absence of legitimate grounds for detention.

Seven cases were filed against me. These proved a blessing in disguise as I had to be transferred from Ambala to Delhi to stand trial. No trial ever took place and, when the government at the Centre changed, the cases were withdrawn. But this enabled me to be taken at least twice or thrice every week to the criminal court in Delhi. By this time the jail conditions were slightly relaxed. We started paying for our own newspapers. The Indian Express and The Statesman stood out as honourable exceptions. Once back in the Delhi jail, 13 of us were housed in five small rooms of Ward No. 1. This ward had a large garden and we planted saplings of roses. We had a regular badminton court and played for a few hours every day. In Ward No. 2, where there were about 200 detenus, we had a large volleyball court and played matches.

The jail is a state of mind. If you allow yourself to be unduly worried and disturbed, there is a danger of your morale collapsing. But if you retain the strength of your conviction, it can become a challenging period.

Months passed by and we were not sure how long the detention would last. Periodically, our detention orders would be extended. One of the saddest days in jail was when the Supreme Court pronounced the judgment in the preventive detention case, holding a detention order non-justiciable.

On January 18, 1977, the radio informed us that Indira Gandhi was to address the nation. She announced general elections. There was a debate on whether the elections should be contested or boycotted. The overwhelming view was that they should be contested and used as an occasion to campaign against the Emergency. Over the next few days, a number of us were released. My release order came on January 25, 1977, almost 19 months after my arrest. Bag in hand, I stopped a taxi outside the jail and reached my residence.

When I arrived home, it was a happy coincidence that my mother was present and, in the regular course, had organised a kirtan. We were unsure how long this freedom would last. Once the campaign started and the mass upsurge against the Emergency was visible, I had not the slightest doubt that the worst for Indian democracy was over.

The writer is a Union minister