Blogger Behind Bars

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 32; the thirty-second edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for the month is 'An Untold Story'

“You promised me that you would tell me a story today!”

“Aha, did I promise something like that? And what story was that? ”

“You said it was an untold story. A story of embarrassment that happened in your life, as you said.”

“Don’t misunderstand me! When I say a story, don’t expect a fiction. Instead of anything dramatic, you can find only the real life narration, and don’t wait for any suspense in the end.”

“It’s okey! By long term affiliation with your posts, I learned to read them without waiting for suspense”

“But you know I am very much ashamed to tell this story. Though this incidence happened some years back during my time at Thiruvananthapuram, I still find it difficult to share. And the second thing that prevents me from telling this story is that people may feel irritated when finding that the incident had nothing awe inspiring.”

“This is your problem. You start with long introduction making people expect something great”

“Ah ok, I am not extending my claptrap. So, here is the suspense. Did I say you that I was jailed for a day?”

“You were jailed? You haven’t told me that. What crime you committed?”

“Apparently I had committed no crime. But I had done something against certain rules imposed by the police during that period to suppress a public agitation”

“Tell me more?”

“Well, I was staying at Trivandrum with two friends on the second floor of a house. At that time, a teenage girl, who was an engineering student committed suicide by jumping from a big residential building in the city. Don’t think that her tragic action was over any failed love relationship. On the contrary, her decision to put a full stop to her life was due to her poor parents’ inability to pay for the huge fee of her engineering studies. As she was coming from a financially backward family, her parents decided to discontinue her studies. She was insulted by the management for several times, for delaying the payment. Distressed by all these thoughts the girl decided to commit suicide, and the way she found to do that was such a terrible one.”

“Oh, that was tragic. But tell me, how did you get arrested in this case? Did you know that girl?”

“No! I did not know that girl. I also came to know about her death through newspapers. Agitated by a poor girl’s death in such a circumstance, many student political organizations, especially the leftist ones called for strikes, and educational institutions had to stop functioning indefinitely. To put an end to this situation, the police declared curfew in the city. Gatherings of three or more students were banned, especially after 9 O clock in the evening”

“Ah, now the picture is getting clear. I think I can guess the events that lead to your imprisonment.”

“Let me complete the story. On that particular night, as usual, we three friends went to sleep in our apartment. I guess I had told you some stories of my smoking experiences. Anyway, at that time I was a smoker, though I quit it a few years before from now. I was unable to sleep that night, and when the time was around mid night, I intensely wanted to smoke. I knew that half a kilometer away, there was a shop which used to function round the clock. I thought about walking till there and buy a pack of cigarettes.”

“And there was this thing called Curfew, right?”

“Yes, but I forgot that. Even if I remembered it, I don’t think I would stop going out. I got up, and I could hear my friends snoring. Without letting them wake, I unbolted the door and went out by keeping the door ajar. I walked to the shop hastily. On reaching the shop, I saw a road side fast food centre was still functioning there. I bought a half packet of cigarettes, and strode back by lighting one of them.”

“On the way back the police caught you right?”

“I walked back slowly, by smoking the cigarette, enjoying the admixture of calmness and darkness. Suddenly, I heard the sound of police jeep crawling behind, like the ugly, calm sound made by a predator when it aims at its prey by creeping behind a hiding. I began to tremble, and I threw away my cigarette, knowing that if they happened to notice it, that could be a reason for them to charge me. Without turning back I walked swiftly, but I heard the sound of the police jeep stopping beside me. An officer stepped out from the front, and questioned me in an arrogant harsh voice,

“Where you are going at this hour?” he asked.

With a trembling low voice I said, “Sir, I was hungry so I thought of eating something at the nearby shop.”

“Ah, you were hungry? And what did you eat?”, he asked.

Remembering the egg omelets being made at the fast food centre, I said “Sir I had one half boiled bull’s-eye egg”

“Bull’s-eye! At this time! Where is your identity card?”, he asked scornfully.

I had none of them with me. He asked me to get into the back side of the jeep. I pleaded him, but he didn't let me go. From the smell of his breathe, I knew that he was drunk. He even raised his knee against my stomach pretending the action of kicking to threaten me. Another officer who was driving the vehicle, calmly asked me to obey him, and he assured me that no harm would be done. I got into the vehicle, and when it took momentum, I threw away the remaining cigarettes with its packet, though I was worried of doing that. Even if the travel was on a police jeep, it was enjoyable. I could see the trees at the road side moving away into more darkness. Finally, the police jeep reached the station. The inspector asked me to remain there.”

“They put you in the prison?”

“No, though initially I told you I was jailed, they hadn’t done that. There was a wooden bench in the front room. They asked me to sit there. They said I can go back only when any of my friends or responsible person comes and produces my identity card. Since it was mid night, they prevented me from calling any one; instead, they asked me to remain in the station.”

“The next day you called your friends?”

“Yeah! When my friends woke up in the morning, they found me missing and the door was half open. They thought for some time, and one of them realized that I could be in the police station only, considering the political situation of that time. And he even guessed the particular station correctly where I could have been taken” 

“Ah, he must be a brilliant one!”

“Meanwhile, I called one of my class mates using the phone at the station, and informed him about my pathetic situation. He initially disbelieved me. But when I kept on telling it, he decided to visit our apartment, before believing me. He reached at my friends, and prior to asking about me, the brilliant roommate informed him that I was caught by police.”

“Oh!”

“For them, it was a funny experience. They both laughed first. Without wasting time, they both came to the station on his bike. You can’t imagine the relief and the humiliation I had on seeing both of them in the morning.” 

“Then what happened?”

“Then what more? I was released and was permitted to go with my friends. They even advised me to not loiter around during such odd hours of the night.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes! I told you! Don’t expect anything dramatic or thrilling at the end. This was how it ended.”

“Oh! I thought you were going to tell me how you helped the police to find something valuable with your one night stay there. Or at least I thought you would reveal me something odd that you noticed at the station.”

“Man, I am not a story teller. I can tell you only real life experiences. If you had thought of me as a suspense writer, you are wrong.”

“Oh you are disappointing me!”

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. Introduced By: The Solitary Writer and Someone is Special, Participation Count: 02