Let’s call her Zehra.   

When I suggested that the inmates who can read and write, should write about their experiences inside the prison, she was the first one to come forward — asking for a diary.

Surprisingly, she remained the only “one” who asked for a diary.

I wondered, why I never noticed such a sweet looking girl. She was wearing sky blue salwar- kameez ; her head was covered with a dupatta. She looked 18-19.

“Why are you here?”

“Murder, Ma’am,” She made a face one makes when they spill tea over an expensive bed cover.

“Whose murder?”

“Dadi ka,” She said.

She was charged with the murder of her grandmother.

“Humne kuch nahin kiya. Bas hame to tab pataa chalaa jab hum hospital pahunche, aur hamari zindagi badal gayee. “(I have not done anything. I came to know, only when I reached the hospital and my life changed.)”

I didn’t go deeper into her story. Something I had promised myself in the very beginning. Unless the inmate wants to discuss or vent out, I never probe.

“How do you spend your day?”

“I get up in the morning… offer namaaz…do some cleaning….then I read….” she thought for a while….”I pray.” She didn’t look happy to talk about her day in the prison.

“That’s wonderful. That you are keeping yourself busy productively.” I tried to access her expression, I couldn’t make out much. “Study well. Continue to pray. Dua mein bahut taaqat hotee hai. “I added. (Prayer is a very powerful thing, I added)

“May I tell you something?” She looked at me.

“Yes, tell me.”

“I always thought you are about Hanuman and you will tell me to pray to Hanuman, so I always used to hide myself by covering my face or wearing a mask. I wish I had talked to you before. ” Her radiant smile and bubbly voice was back.

I smiled, not really knowing what to say. Should I tell her Hanuman is a synonym of love and service? That it’s about love and faith. And faith is a strong thing… perhaps strongest of things.

“Ma’am, May I ask you something other than the diary?”

“Yes.”

“I am here since last two months. Due to corona, the inmates are not allowed to meet their family members. You are one of the few people who visit us….” I could feel the lump in her throat. “So…. “She couldn’t finish what she wanted to say.

“I will increase the frequency of my visits,” I said quickly.

“No…” she shook her head in negation, laughing. “Please visit often. But what I want to ask is — can I call you ‘Baji’? “

I nodded an assertive nod.

Three days later, I sent a diary and Cadbury’s dairy milk chocolate for her.

P.S. My new friend is 19. ‘Baji‘ is a term used to address an elder sister.

– R