My solitary cell was nine feet long and five or six feet in width; it had no windows, in front stood strong iron bars, this cage was my appointed abode. Such was the place where we were lodged…

One plate and bowl used to adorn the courtyard. Properly washed and cleansed my self-sufficing plate and bowl, was the solace of my life…

My dear bowl was multipurpose. The bowl was free from all caste restrictions, beyond discrimination, in the prison cell it helped in the act of ablution, later with the same bowl I gargled, bathed, a little later when I had to take my food, lentil soup or vegetable was poured into the same container, I drank water out of it and washed my mouth. Such an all — purpose priceless object can be had only in a British prison.

Serving all my worldly needs the bowl became an aid in my spiritual discipline too. Where else could I find such an aid and preceptor to get rid of the sense of disgust?…

But for one month I acquired an unsought lesson in controlling my disgust.

The entire procedure for defecation seems to have been oriented towards the art of self-control…

Needless to say, because of all this arrangement, in a small room, one had throughout to undergo considerable inconvenience, especially at meal times and during night. Attached bathrooms are, I know, often times a part of western culture, but to have in a small cell a bedroom, dining room and w.c. rolled into one

— that is what is called too much of a good thing!…

In this blazing room two prison blankets served for my bed. There was no pillow, I would spread one of these as mattress and fold the other as a pillow, and I slept like that. When it became unbearable I would roll on the ground and enjoy it…

But the floor’s contact in the prison was not always pleasing…The days on which it rained were particularly delightful. But there was this difficulty that during rain and thunder, thanks to the danse macabre of the strong wind, full of dust, leaf and grass, a small-scale flood would take place inside my little room. After which there was no alternative but to rush to a corner with a wet blanket…The only dry areas were near the w.c., but one did not feel like placing the blankets near that area…

I was not annoyed at this. On the contrary, I had felt a little happy that no discrimination had been made between the common uneducated masses and myself… I took it as a marvelous means and favourable condition for learning yoga and rising above conflicts. I was one of the extremists, in whose view democracy and equality between the rich and the poor formed a chief ingredient of nationalism.The mind had transcended these sufferings and grown incapable of feeling any hardship.

That is why when I recollect my prison life instead of anger or sorrow I feel like laughing.

Ref: Tale of Prison life, translated by Sisir Kumar Ghosh