Book Excerpt - A Princess Remembers: The Memoirs of The Maharani of Jaipur

Chapter 22 - Tihar Jail

Bubbles' arrest had caused much resentment in the armed forties, where he was popular and considered a hero. Many of them came to the Superintendent of the jail to protest against his incarceration. Patiently the Superintendent explained to them that the matter was out of his hands. In Jaipur, people gathered at Rajmahal and told Pat that they wanted to demonstrate because I had been jailed. Pat pleaded with them to do no such thing as such protests would prove detrimental to me. Several influential friends from abroad, particularly Dicky Mountbatten tried to intervene on my behalf. I learnt that my arrest had led to flood of inquiries at the Indian High Commission in London, the Indian embassies in Madrid, Paris, Buenos Aires and other places where Jai and I had many friends. But this show of sympathy only angered the powers in Delhi.

Strangely the first few days in prison passed fairly quickly. The jail had a good library which I was allowed to use. Once the news of my imprisonment got around, I was flooded with presents from my friends: books, soaps, perfumes, cigarettes, chocolates, and other goodies. Jagat sent me a large canvas for gros-point embroidery. I got letters from all over the world. People whom I did not know were sympathetic and astounded by my imprisonment. I even received letters from strangers proposing marriage from abroad, presumably calculated to get me out of India beyond the clutches of this dictatorial regime.

The amount of reading and embroidery I was doing began to affect my eyes badly and I longed for a radio to listen to the news but this was not allowed in the women's section of the jail.

There were so many women in jail who had been parted from their families, most of them had committed no crime and their grief mitigated much of my sorrow. They would come pleading for help and justice and I tried to intervene on their behalf with the jail authorities. There were children in the jail with their mothers. It upset me to see them there. I sent for textbooks and slates to start a school in the prison. I also bought them a cricket bat and a football and taught them how to play games. I set up a badminton court and played with the younger women prisoners, most of whom were prostitutes or pickpockets.

And so the days passed. I had my prison walks with Bubbles in the evenings and Joey's visits twice a week. He would bring us food, fresh laundry, and most importantly, the news of the efforts he was trying to make for our release. Bubbles suggested that as we were both entitled to two visits a week, we should have them on separate days, so poor joey had to visit Tihar jail four times a week. Sometimes he was allowed to bring relatives. My second cousin, Reena Ripjit Singh, who was also trying hard for our release, would visit us and send thoughtful gifts.

After about a month, the Superintendent of the jail asked me to come to his office. He was at his wits end because he was told that Vijayraje Scindia, the Rajmata of Gwalior, was being sent to Tihar and he did not have a decent place for her to slay. He asked me if she could share my room. I pointed out that if another bed was put in the room, there would be no standing space. Besides, we both had totally different habits. I was used to exercising and required a place for doing yoga. I read late into the night and played a tape recorder and this would disturb her, as she spent a great deal of her time in prayer. After examining several options, the Superintendent decided that the only place available was the cell for condemned prisoners at that time empty, which he requested me to help him arrange for the Rajmata.

Having consulted me, he had the latrine demolished in the cell and laid a floor over it. He had a window built, installed a light, and whitewashed the cell. It was the month of August with the monsoon in full force when the Rajmata arrived with her maid and her pooja box. She asked if she could sleep in the verandah of my room as it was hot and humid in her cell. I set up a curtain and arranged a bed for her.

Every night I listened to the sports radio—up and the news from the BBC on the small transistor that Joey had smuggled into the jail. When the music preceding the news was played, I used to think about people in England roaming around freely while we in India had lost our basic freedom. As I switched off the radio, the Rajmata would ask if there was anything about India. There never was.

The Rajmata and I were still members of Parliament, so we received all parliamentary papers and from these we came to know which members of the House had been jailed. This news was never revealed in the censored newspapers. Every day new political prisoners who were brought in gave us news of the extreme measures being perpetuated by Indira Gandhi and her now all-powerful son, Sanjay. We heard of the harsh measures taken in forced vasectomies on the male population; of the demolition of the houses at Turkman Gate area and other such excesses. The country was seething with fury against the regime.

During this time, a British delegation came to India. The Rajmata of Gwalior and I received an invitation for a reception to be held at the Lok Sabha. I jokingly told the Rajmata that we should accept and ask for a car to take us there. The next day to our indignation, we read in the papers that Michael Foot had praised Mrs Gandhi's Emergency measures.

Palam International airport is close to Tihar Jail. Whenever I heard a plane take off, I wondered if I would ever again hear those instructions, "Fasten your seat belts, we're about to take off for..." One day the Rajmata said to me, "I wish Palam was not so close."

And I said, "Yes I know. You must be  wondering if we will ever be free to travel again." I myself used to watch the birds flying in the sky and would envy them their freedom.

In the meanwhile, our lawyers had been working hard, and after two and a half months Bubbles was released on parole. My case was more difficult. They could get -me off on C.O.F.E.P.O.S.A., but they warned me that l might he re-arrested under M.I.S.A. (Maintenance of Internal Security Act), both laws used in a draconian manner. I told them I wanted to be cleared of C.O.F.E.P.O.S.A. and for them to go ahead with the cases. Just when my trial was coming up, the Government did away with Habeaus Corpus, the very basis of humanitarian rights, so nothing more could be done on my behalf or of all those thousands of political prisoners who languished in India's jails. Now that the doors of justice were closed, poor Joey was at his wits end as to what he could do to get me out. He used to compare his efforts to the game of snakes and ladders — up the ladder, almost to the top, and the next throw of the dice, right back to the start.

When Bubbles was released, he came with tears to my room. I asked for permission to see him off to the jail gates. As Joey and Bubbles were leaving, feeling isolated, I said to Joey, "So you are taking Bubbles away."

After Bubbles had gone I felt absolutely alone and wondered if I would ever be freed, and it I were to die in jail, what effect would it have on Jagat. Anyone with a major problem seeks solutions to solve it, but I knew I had no recourse to justice and lost all hope. Those of us political prisoners who were close to Mrs Gandhi in age thought we would never be released till she was out of power. The younger ones, many of them in their 30s, thought. They would be in jail till Sanjay was out of power.

Soon afterward, l developed an ulcer in my mouth and it took three weeks for the authorities to allow my dental surgeon, Dr. Berry to visit me. After examining me he shrugged his shoulders and said, "What can I do? I must take her for surgery." Another couple of weeks passed before the required permission was granted. I was taken to Dr. Berry's clinic on Curzon Road accompanied by the jail Assistant Superintendent and a female police officer, followed by a truckload of armed policemen, who I presume were there to shoot at me if I tried to escape. I was also allowed to go to the Willingdon Hospital for physiotherapy, where the young doctors would make delicious coffee for me. It was a nice break from the dreary routine of jail life.

One day the Rajmata of Gwalior accompanied me to the hospital where she was to have a cardiogram. In the car, I told her that it was possible that the jail officers would be ordered to poison us and then tell our families that we had died from heart attacks. The Assistant Superintendent refuted this, but l said, "It is a question of your livelihood and family. If you were ordered to do it, you would have to comply."

All religious festivals were celebrated by the jail inmates with great fervour. At Dussehra, the Rajmata of Gwalior distributed sweets and clothes to the children. On Diwali, the inmates lit oil lamps and let off fireworks. The women's quarters took on a festive look. On the Muslim festival of Id, Laila Begum brought me the traditional milk dessert, 'seviyan'. Every Friday most of the young women prayed to Santoshi Ma for their release. And so the days went by. There were rumours that I was being ill-treated in jail, but this was not true.