It was a day of celebration at the Coimbatore Central prisons.
The prison lodges plenty of inmates with various crime records from petty theft to bomb blast accused persons. Once I was invited to address the inmates at a function. I transformed the dull routine with pencil sketches of the inmates who posed for me and the DIG of Prisons and the Superintendant couldn't escape the lure. They too were captured on paper. 'Why don't you teach these poor fellows Art', DIG asked me. I too couldn't resist the temptation. At least one day every month I could escape from my own jail to this place. My young friend Chandrasekar ventured to accompany me. He is also a MSian (scratchuheadu).
Our classes were real hits. Our students tried and tried to bring out accurate figures on their papers. From their routine monotony , this was a relief to meet two idiots who regularly enter their dens to teach them. But we had our own intention to see the prison. The immaculate kitchen, cleaner and hygienic than any five star hotel kitchen, the cell where the great freedom fighter V.O.Chidamparam Pillai was kept, the execution cell were all the places where any ordinary citizen couldn't enter. The students comprised of mostly lifers and accuseds of both religions connected with bomb blast activities. They all know me personally, as I hail from the same area where bombs were made and where the first violence erupted. Basic techniques in art were taught, and they too practiced seriously. My forte is human figures and Chandraw teaches them cartoons.
Coming back to the Celebration day, it was by the local Rotary people who donated prizes for sport events and other provisions like buckets etc. On my part, we conducted a drawing competition for the students, selected the winners and announced that we will buy the prizes from our pockets, mostly water colours and Art pencils. They too were overjoyed. On the special day, the prison hall was full of VIPs with full suits and society ladies fully made up, with/without knowing they were causing disturbance to the sex starved inmates. The prizes were given away, written speeches read to the yawning audience, cameras flashed, and many people were awarded for their 'services' to the inmates.The Prison officials were stiff faced and serious in the presence of the honoured VIPs. Nobody cared to call us who were waiting with our small gifts, and our students were agitated. The flashy people left . And after the persuasion of our students we were invited to stage.
We called out the prize winners. But before that our students want to gift something to the DIG and the Superintendant. Even I was not aware what the presents were. The gifts were unwrapped on the stage. They were pencil portraits of the DIG and Supdt. The stiff officials were moved. Laughter of joy and pride blossomed on their hard faces. The atmosphere changed to happiness and fanfare. They caught my hand and thanked.
I felt very low, my prizes were very cheap comparing with the ability of my students.
