'I don't know if he put up a front but he never let me feel his morale was down. He told me how he was tackling the problems he was facing, or if there was some way the lawyers could help, but he would always tell me not to worry with a big broad smile.'
Shikha Rahi has been her father's greatest support all the 12 years he has been in jail. The 40-year-old filmmaker tells Jyoti Punwani about her long struggle for justice for her father.
From the time your father was first arrested in 2007 till he was acquitted recently, you have been fighting for him. You were just 24 when he was arrested.
How did you decide to start a campaign for his release? Who helped?
I was the first one to get a call from the Nanakmatta police station in Uttarakhand when he was first arrested in 2007.
I rushed there and when we got some time without the cops around, Baba narrated how he had been kept in illegal detention and brutally tortured. He told me that people outside needed to be told about it.
Prashant Rahi: 'My 7 years in Anda cell were the most inhuman form of solitary confinement'
A family friend had told me not to cry when I see him, to tell him that everything will be fine. I did that and everything I could till he got out fine
Another family friend who travelled with me the first time to Uttarakhand came under police surveillance. So then onwards, everyone continued to guide me but no one could accompany me.
My friends and my parents' friends guided me initially; a journalist from Dehradun helped me connect with other journalists for a press conference, but he got beaten up by the police for helping me.
I was always followed by local intelligence whenever I went to meet Baba in jail in Uttarakhand, so I started avoiding meeting old friends of ours unless they were known public figures, or just fearless, because anyone I came in contact with was threatened by police/ IB directly or indirectly.
Even my cab driver would be threatened.
Did the police intimidate you in all these years?
They tried. But after a point some of them jokingly told my dad that they were scared of me.
I remember admonishing them at the jail gate when they came up with a web cam photo routine only for me and other visitors for my father at Dehradun. I was anyway made to wait longer than others -- I think they waited till someone from the IB arrived.
In some Uttarakhand jails, the intelligence officers would sit close. Every time Baba had to assert his right to speak in private but to no avail.
The SP of Rudrapur had asked me to convince my father to accept their allegations while he was in police custody, or he would rot and die in jail.
Similarly, later in Maharashtra, IO Suhas Bawche tried to scare me by asking me to convince my father to tell them what they wanted to hear, or they would have to use other ways to make him speak.
I also got strange calls during his jail time in Uttarakhand, trying to scare me, to find out where I live, what I do. They stopped once I named the big filmstars I was working with at that time.
When we were about to get him out on bail, I kept getting a call from a particular number. The caller talked in a shady manner, telling me they know everything about me, guessing the colour of the t-shirt I was wearing that day.
Did you lose friends because of your support for your father, given the charge against him of being a Maoist? What about at work?
I didn't lose out on anything directly because of the charges.
But I had to leave quite a few projects when there were certain legal developments which I had to attend to in another city.
A boyfriend left me because I just couldn't be happy and fun anymore. This was when it had become a matter of Baba's life and death; when he had extreme gastric problems which we later figured out were because of seeds laced in his food in Amravati Jail.
I could not sit back and think and create any work of my own, though I am in a creative field. I kept shuttling between hectic shoots and attending to dad and his lawyers in my breaks for more than a decade.
What was most difficult in your long fight?
Being aware of the effects of prolonged incarceration on Baba who can't sit still for too long... for him to be bound to a small cell surrounded by other such cells, and a small patch of concrete to walk around for a few hours of the day, with barely any traces of the sky or the Earth and have nobody to talk to.
Were you familiar with the law when you began and what's the situation now?
Not at all, and I don't think I still am because I never tried to understand it. The language in law books and legal documents is so convoluted that it feels like it's purposely meant to keep a layperson ignorant or confused.
I am a science student, used to writing things precisely. I don't have the patience for a salad of words made out to explain a simple point.
Jokes apart, there was always so much stress and anxiety associated with it, I didn't care to grasp the law. When I would hear our lawyers prepare, they would always laugh at the baseless case and reassure me, but I couldn't help getting nervous after Baba had been given a life sentence.
Did you ever feel like giving up?
That was never an option. Friends and family urged me to take a step back purely so that I could take charge of my life. But I just didn't have it in me to forget about or do any less for my father's freedom.
Did you ever blame him for the political path that he had chosen?
I always took pride in what both my parents stood for and the values they held dear. I only asked Baba to tread cautiously after his bail and even now, and that's not because he might do something against the law but because it looks like the State has made it their agenda to make sure these people remain incarcerated in spite of being acquitted.
They tried their best to delay their release with all the power they have, at the Supreme Court, the trial court (which had to issue their letter of release) and in the jail.
Who was your biggest support?
Undoubtedly, the woman who gave birth to me, my Amma.
All this while she was so concerned about me, but she stood by me through everything, regardless of all my decisions. She was left alone to fend for herself so many times when I had to rush for Baba.
She had to bear with my outbursts, my breakdowns. She single-handedly worked at her job and also took care of me when I broke my bones in a car accident.
She never lets a single tear roll down her eyes in front of me. She is my biggest inspiration for resilience and courage.
What was the worst moment for you?
When I came to know that Baba was not able to eat anything in Amravati jail. Anything he ate was causing diarrhoea and vomiting. That was the worst time and it went on for about six months.
Pandu Narote had passed away a few months earlier. I was scared to death for Baba's life.
Did you find you had to boost his morale through the last seven yrs?
Hardly ever.
I don't know if he put up a front but he never let me feel his morale was down. He told me how he was tackling the problems he was facing, or if there was some way the lawyers could help, but he would always tell me not to worry with a big broad smile.
Finally now that he's been acquitted, what do you feel he should do?
I want him to play badminton with me. He taught me badminton but the racquets have been lying untouched since his conviction in 2017.
He wanted to take me rafting at Rishikesh when I was in college. I never got time then. Later, he was in jail. I want us to do that but now he's getting old even though he doesn't admit it, so I'm not sure. I'm not that young either. I turned 40 last year.
I wish I could sell him the idea of running a shack in Goa.
In his free time, I want him to write about what drove him to think about others before himself even at the cost of his freedom... to inspire the youth of this country which cannot look beyond their own phones and is so self-obsessed as to thrive on something as inane as selfies!
Feature Presentation: Aslam Hunani/Rediff.com
