by Paul Jordan
Back in the cage I decided I needed a post-shave rest. The old man and Sanjay came into the cell for a chat. Sanjay decided to read my palm. Read away mate, as long as I don’t have to get up. His technique was to simply grab my hand and start examining it — I had little choice in the matter. I’m very sceptical about such things. My former wife convinced me to see a tarot card reader just after I left the army. This woman, dressed like someone who should have been reading a crystal ball, told me my life would settle down very soon after years of frequently changing jobs.
‘I’ve just resigned from the army after 10 years of service and the last eight years were in the same place in Perth,’ I said.
‘Oh.’
And that was the end of that. So, when Sanjay wanted to read my palm I was understandably sceptical, but decided to go through with it, if only for the entertainment value — oh yes, I was bored.
Sanjay declared that I would have a long, adventurous life. I’m forthright and will be married twice — this bloke might be onto something here: I have already been through one disastrous marriage and have entered another relationship. Then he told me I should stay away from the ocean as it is dangerous for me. That’s weird, I love the ocean; I wish he hadn’t told me that bit. I’ll be expecting to be eaten by a great white shark every time I go body surfing now. After they left I tried to sleep for an hour, but couldn’t as I was too anxious — Sallie was coming today.
By 11.00 am Sallie had yet to arrive. Maybe she was visiting others first. I didn’t mind. I’d rather she worked on everyone before coming to me if it meant I could get out of here and hold her as a free man. It would be great if she could take me home with her in the next few days.
I decided I needed to do number twos and dreaded the idea. It’s bloody disgusting and the whole prison smells like a toilet, but the squatters smell a hundred times worse, and the idea of using a bucket of water for toilet paper makes me dry retch every time. No matter how many times I do it, I manage to get shit all over the place.
At 11.20, Sanjay rushed into my cage all excited.
‘Sir, Sir, a white lady at the gate! Sir, your wife is here!’
I sat up with some interest.
‘Did you see her, Sanjay?’
‘Yyyyyyeeeess, Sir,’ he replied, barely able to contain himself as he pranced away.
Man, he has got to be gay, I thought as I watched him leave my cage.
I got dressed in my Calvins and T-shirt. My jeans were very baggy on me due to the weight I’d lost. I walked to the administration building and picked a rose on the way. I expected to see Sallie straight away, but she was having her photo taken by the guards prior to entering the prison. I periodically caught a glimpse of her and started to become emotional, but quickly controlled that feeling because my fellow prisoners, who were also excited to see a pretty white woman in the prison, had surrounded me. Manish, the prison clerk, told me to sit and be patient, but I couldn’t and responded forcefully to his repeated attempts to tell me to sit. It was unworthy of me as Manish had been good while I’d been in this shit heap, but I was overwhelmed with emotion — a combination of feeling like a dickhead for being in this predicament and wanting to see a familiar face.
The waiting lasted an eternity. I later discovered that the guards took a few more photos than they really needed to — they didn’t have the opportunity to photograph too many white women so they grabbed the moment. Finally I saw her, she looked great and in total control. She was dressed discreetly, covered from neck to wrist to ankle and was wearing a headscarf. Good girl, she knew how to travel and dress appropriately. The scarf covered her blonde hair and the loose-fitting clothes concealed her neat figure. I moved out of the way as her approach created some commotion. The guards were at the gate waiting for her and pushed people aside so they could open the gate. She entered the prison gate and looked around. She saw me and we hugged until we were told to separate by a prison guard and ushered into the Warden’s office. We spent an hour together. She had already seen the Magistrate and begged and cried for my release. She had seen Bala and, like me, immediately liked him. She had seen my lawyer, Debu- San, and confirmed the brief that he needed to drop all other cases and just work on mine. Next she planned to visit the SP (Siddiqui) and told me she would offer money for a favourable statement if necessary.
It was so good to see her that I almost ignored all the others with her — there seemed to be quite an entourage. There was the High Commission guy, Rajeesh; Ujwal, back from Kathmandu, who had escorted Sallie to Biratnagar; and Martin, one of the senior managers with my company and formerly a colonel in the Australian Army. I could see Martin through the bars wandering around just in front of the office block. He approached Loud Talker, stopped and delivered a perfectly executed salute which I knew would greatly impress and flatter Loud Talker. The Nepali SP was here as well — it was so good of him to go out of his way for me. He also told me he would go with Sallie and the entourage to see Siddiqui.
Sallie brought me a heap of supplies including vitamins, antibiotics, ear ointment, eye cream and antiseptic hand gel. She brought magazines, a skipping rope, tennis balls to throw against the prison wall like Steve McQueen in The Great Escape, photos of my family and of us together. The Warden needed to clear all this stuff for the prison and immediately refused to allow the skipping rope, which I could understand; everything else was permitted. The Warden told us that it was normal procedure for prisoners to be allowed only one visitor every two weeks but, given the distances and the fact that Bala had made the request, Sallie could visit every day. I thanked him profusely and then told Sallie how good the Warden had been to me. I was well and truly kissing arse which would have seen me getting the shit kicked out of me in an Australian prison. The visit was over quickly. I didn’t want her to go, but I did want her to visit these people and try to get me out of here as soon as possible. I said goodbye to Rajeesh who reminded me that I was going to court tomorrow.
‘I’ll be ready Rajeesh, don’t worry.’
I was on my own again, but on a slight high having seen Sallie. Now I had to go back to waiting to see what tomorrow would bring. Sallie had brought me so much stuff which generated a lot of interest from my fellow prisoners, so I tried to stash as much as possible out of sight. As I went through it all I found a Sudoku book, pens, food, chocolate and juice as well as all those items previously mentioned. I couldn’t believe she had brought all this stuff. She had been so very thoughtful and considerate. As I went through all the different drugs she brought I saw two boxes of sleeping pills.
The old man and Sanjay came into my cell so I showed them the photos of my family and Sallie. They become very excited and the old man rushed next door to his cell and returned with passport-type photos of his wife and children. He was so proud of them, so I dropped all my stuff and spent the right amount of time asking questions about his family and the people in the photos. He was a good guy who clearly missed his family and I noticed a tear forming in his eyes. I couldn’t get a straight answer on how long he’d been here, but it seemed to be anywhere between three months and six months and in that time he hadn’t had a visitor. I quickly changed the subject and pulled out some of the Cadbury’s chocolate Sallie brought and we all shared it. Sanjay and the old man were delighted.
I decided to read the Who magazine first so I could give it away to the prisoners waiting outside my cell. Now I just wanted everyone to get out of my cell so I could go through my goodies in peace, but I had to be patient as these guys rarely received anything and were excited by what I’d been given. Satya joined the old man and Sanjay reading a magazine — Men’s Health I think. The group to whom I gave the Who magazine debated the meaning of an advertisement. There was a picture of a woman sleeping on her side wearing only underwear in a comfortable bed with the caption ‘Sleep tight with Stayfree’. They called me over and asked, ‘What is Stayfree?’
I started to laugh, but then saw the serious looks on their faces. Wow, this coul
d be big. If I got this wrong, maybe we’d have an international incident.
‘It’s a pillow and it comes in that box,’ I said, pointing to the small pads box. ‘Oh yes. It must be expensive,’ one prisoner said and they all agreed.
Content with that answer, they read on.
The Nepali SP returned to the prison and I was summoned to the administration building. The SP told me that the meeting had gone very well, but the Indian SP had kept them all waiting in the sun for three hours — some power play I suppose. He told me not to worry as the Indian SP had assured him he’d write a very positive report and I’d probably be released tomorrow. He could only stay a very short time as it was 6.00 pm and he had to get back across the border before it closed. I got his phone number and thanked him for all his help. His generosity and the lengths to which he’d gone to help me were not lost on me. My morale was high as I was now certain I’d be released tomorrow.
Sallie and I spoke briefly on my phone. She said the police report was okay, but it still said that I had committed a crime. She wasn’t able to read the report, as this was illegal. One of the strange laws they have in India is that no statements can be made available to the defence team — all the defence is entitled to are the names of the witnesses, which begs the question of how you can mount a defence when you don’t know what you been accused of. Sallie thought I had an 85% chance of being released tomorrow. She also passed on a message from Colin Rigby who advised me not to get my hopes up for release. This was good advice and I knew this was how I was supposed to think — I teach this lesson on my training courses, but it’s almost impossible to the point that it can’t be done.
I returned to my cell thinking this was my last night in this hell hole. Sallie had also brought some Australia souvenirs to give to the guards and fellow prisoners, so I clipped one of the koalas to the bars of my gate. The photos from home were precious; I couldn’t stop looking at the kids and Sallie. I couldn’t imagine any other woman doing what she had done so far. She was beyond amazing. She had a gold ring that I sometimes wore as I could slip it on my little finger. This was another thing she had brought me and I wore it as I sat and looked at those precious photos. It was such a thoughtful thing to do; just a small thing, but it meant so much to me and reminded me of home. The caveman came by to close and lock the cage and saw the koala on the bar. He unclipped it as I got up and approached. He looked at it then played with it by clipping it to his finger. Then a miracle happened and he smiled and I was certain his face was going to fall off. Using hand motions I told him that he could have the koala. He realised what I was saying and re-clipped the koala to the bar and walked away. No problem, my pleasure, you grumpy old sour prick. Obviously this was a thought and not something I said. He wouldn’t have understood the words but would have heard the tone. Loud and clear.
22.
NIGHTMARE DAY FIFTEEN
Friday 6 June
For the first time, I slept for five hours straight and woke up a bit stiff, but grateful for the sleep. I woke at 3.00 am and crawled out from under my mosquito net and screwed in the light bulb so I could read for a while. At 5.00 am the cage was opened by Mr Personality, better known as the caveman, so I got up and started to pack those things that I wanted to take out of here and set aside those things that I never wanted to see again — like my sarong, thongs, my boots that have walked daily through this toilet and other bits that I wanted to give to the old man.
I shaved myself with my razor — another thing Sallie had brought me. The old man and Sanjay were disappointed, as they seemed to like shaving me. They had given me a good shave, but I didn’t like the idea of another bloke shaving my face. The old man and Sanjay were impressed with my Gillette triple blade razor with the pivot head and I made a mental note to give it to Sanjay when I left.
I dug out a pair of clean trousers that I’d been saving for a special occasion, and the only other pair I had apart from my Calvins, and also put on a clean T-shirt that Sallie had brought me. I found a clean pair of socks and, by 6.30 am, I was ready for court. At 7.00 am Satya came to my cell and told me it was time, so I walked to the administration office. There was some murmuring among the prisoners as they saw me in my good clothes. At the administration office I approached Manish and told him that I was here and ready for court. He told me that my day for court was tomorrow.
‘Yeh, right, stop bullshitting me.’
‘No, Mr Paul, you go to court tomorrow, not today.’
‘Are you fucking kidding?’ I replied, ready to blow.
‘No, Mr Paul, you go to court tomorrow, see it is written,’ he said and showed me my file with a court date written on the front.
‘Okay, thanks mate,’ I said as calmly as I could and wanted to fucking kill someone. On the way back to my cage to get out of my good clothes, a prisoner stepped in my path and, using a hand motion, asked what was happening to me. I made that same motion back to him and said, ‘What the fuck does this mean, mate?’ and walked around him to my cage.
I was totally deflated and wanted to kill Rajeesh, the High Commission guy. Clearly they had no idea what was going on. Back in the cage I decided to stay dressed as somewhere deep inside me I believed the clerk had made a mistake. But by 10.00 am I realised that I was not going to court and the poor clerk that I gave a mouthful to was right and bloody Rajeesh had got the wrong date. All I wanted to do now was sleep. I just wanted time to disappear. I couldn’t do anything to help myself in here so I might as well just slip into a coma until I was released. Maybe it would be six months. I supposed that would have me out by Christmas. I hoped Dad could hang on that long. I wondered if the kids would still think about me or whether they would take to my ex-wife’s new partner. Would the company still be generous if this dragged on that long? How would I pay the bills with no income? Would I lose the house? Where would the kids live? How could I have cocked this up so much?
At 1.30 pm, Sallie and Ujwal visited. I didn’t feel so good now — in fact I was suddenly very weak. I was not sure what had happened to me as I had trouble standing and walking — but it was still great to see Sallie and Ujwal. I told them about this morning and they were as annoyed with Rajeesh as I was. I’d settled down a bit as I knew Rajeesh hadn’t meant to get it wrong and he probably didn’t appreciate the mental let-down such misinformation could cause. Sallie told me they had been forced to wait in the hot sun yesterday by Siddiqui. When they asked if they could wait inside a room they were told that this was not allowed. This included the Nepali SP, which clearly indicated the level of hostility the Indian SP had for me. He told Sallie that, as a journalist, I should have known better. Sallie told him that I’m not a journalist, just a trainer, but he waved her off. Now I was worried.
They only stayed a short time. I hugged Sallie and they both left. Sallie lingered at the gate. I knew she was worried about my health, so I started singing the theme to the movie Love Actually:
You know I love you
I always will
My mind’s made up
By the way that I feel
There’s no beginning
There’ll be no end
You’re all I’ll love
I can’t pretend
Well, that drew some attention from the prisoners and the prison staff and gave them a topic of conversation for a while.
I returned to my cell to watch the curry-eating goose walk past my cage and the smart arse bloody thing gave me a mouthful as it went past. I tried to sleep the afternoon away, but woke up to see Sanjay at my gate staring at me.
‘Sir, this man wants to talk to you.’
Fuck me. ‘What does he want?’
Sanjay pushed the old prisoner forward and he said, ‘Hello mister.’
‘Yeh, hello mate, what’s up?’
‘Hello mister.’
Oh God, kill me. ‘Yes hello, how can I help you, my friend?’
Then just staring.
‘What do you want, mate?’
Nothing,
just staring.
‘Okay, goodbye.’
As I rolled over to sleep some more, Sanjay started on me.
‘Sir, Sir.’
For fuck’s sake. ‘What, Sanjay?’
‘Everything okay, Sir?’
‘Everything is fine. I just want to rest, please leave me be.’
‘You want to be not disturb Sir?’
‘Yes, Sanjay.’
That was that sorted. Sanjay was a good guy, but could be fucking painful at times.
Satya and I walked that night, but I wasn’t up to his questions, so we sat on the wall and watched prison life slow down and get ready for lock-down. People cooked all day on stoves made from cement and mud using coal and ingredients delivered to them by family members. The food smelt good and I was often invited to share a meal, but politely refused. There was a group just outside my cell and when they started their cooking every morning, my cell would fill with smoke. It could be a bit suffocating at times, but at least the smoke cleared the mosquitoes and flies. I gave these guys excess biscuits when I had them for two reasons: first, I had too many packets and could never eat them; second, these guys never bothered me or walked into my cell or asked stupid questions. They just went about their business and politely said ‘hello’ when passing. I liked that about them, so gave them my excess biscuits, but only after I’d given some to the old man.
The old man had now taken to bringing the bucket of water into the courtyard area in front of my cage. I called it a courtyard for the want of a better term, but it was just the same open-air room that I walked through to get to my cage. I liked the idea of the bucket bath in this area as it offered some privacy, but not much, and it was certainly more comfortable than the area next to the pump. Now he didn’t even ask about washing my back every two or three days, because he knew I would stop him and we’d argue. Now he just did it. Bloody hell, I’m glad the boys couldn’t see this happening.