Turning Tihar into an Ashram

Kiran Bedi remains a determined and inspiring figure even today, all thanks to the Sunrise, writes Shivangi Ambani-Gandhi

It is one thing to see Kiran Bedi on film or TV and quite another in flesh. No camera, and certainly none of the words in this article, can capture the enthusiasm she exudes. Even now at 59 years of age, and just couple of inches over 5 feet, Bedi—the first woman to join the Indian police service and became its highest serving female officer—is still a towering figure—barely contained on the stage of the National Maritime Museum in Sydney, where she gave a talk on prison reforms recently.

Bedi is of course, also very well known for transforming Asia’s, and perhaps the world’s largest prison—Tihar, inhabited by the country’s most notorious criminals—into an ashram, by introducing the ancient meditation practice of Vipassana.

Crisply dressed, in her characteristic simplicity—white shirt and black vest, with short cropped hair—rarely standing still, Bedi talks fast, with an unwavering gaze and searing honesty. She is definitely showing no physical signs of ageing, and lacks none of the determination, ambition or wit of her early years.

She laughs heartily while watching a film clip of the incident when she towed away then Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi’s illegally parked car; dramatises animatedly her many conversations with the prisoners of the notorious Tihar Jail in India; sternly refuses any admittance to defeat “You never fail, you only keep trying,” she says; and yet exudes a yogi-like calm when referring to her retirement—“I could have stayed another two years, and become the Commissioner to enjoy the benefits offered by the Indian Government, but I knew I would not be challenged.”

Bedi was in Australia to support (and not promote, she insists) Australian filmmaker Megan Doneman’s documentary on her life thus far, Yes Madam, Sir (also covered in an earlier issue of Indian Link), which was only the second film in its history to get a standing ovation at the recent Adelaide Festival. “Megan has made a film on my life already,” says Bedi. “I tell her that she may have to make a sequel.” Doneman says of the experience of following Bedi’s life for 6 years, “It was exhausting, she walks very fast.”

Bedi’s insights into prison reforms were inspiring and revealing. “The prison reforms came from my own belief in the value of time,” says Bedi. “The inmates could either waste time, or invest it.”

She recollected her first days in Tihar. “My office was rat-ridden, because none of the previous officers had used this office. They all preferred to sit in offices of power, closer to the Ministers. But my job was here, in the jail.”

She did not dress in her uniform, too ensure she looked ordinary, and took rounds of the prison and spoke directly with the prisoners. One of the myths circulating the prison was that when an officer got too close to an inmate, he had his little finger bitten off by the inmate. Bedi found that the superintendents and the prisoners were locked in a vicious circle of revenge. “The key was communication. I was not afraid of having my finger bitten,” she said.

One of her first questions to the prisoners was, “Do you pray?” “I knew the prisoners needed to look deeper—I had to make a real change in their minds and hearts,” said Bedi. After one of her Assistant Superintendents mentioned the benefits of Vipassana that he had himself experienced, Bedi brought the ancient meditation practice into the prison.

On the 10^th day of the Vipassana program—the day of breaking silence—not really knowing what to expect, Bedi attended the session. “Many of the hardened criminals were crying. ‘We were nursing revenge, but now we seek forgiveness,’ is what many said,” recollects Bedi. “Other prisoners then also wanted to take it on—Vipassana has to be voluntary, of course,” says Bedi.

A course for more than 1,000 students was conducted by Mr. S.N. Goenka and his assistants from April 4-15, 1993—and the Vipassana program still continues today. It is legislated by the Indian government for Indian jails and has now spread to USA, Israel, Mongolia, New Zealand, Taiwan, Thailand and UK. In fact, inspired by this success, in Australia, Spirit of India ran Yoga classes at Dillwynia correction centre at Windsor in 2005 and 2006. From March 2009 onward they shall start Yoga classes at Parramatta Transition centre for inmates.

Meanwhile, Tihar also became the only non-smoking prison in the world, under Bedi’s dictate, she recollects. “We were ahead of the times. The Indian Government only recently legislated all public spaces as non smoking zones,” she said.

One of her greatest challenges at Tihar though, was budget—or rather the lack of it. “There was no reformation budget. If you wait for budgets it won’t happen – the prisoners will simply drink themselves away,” said Bedi.

She maintains that prison programs can only be run by the three Cs—Community, Collective and Correction. So to get community involvement, Bedi used her goodwill from her previous postings, with schools and colleges, to get volunteer teachers as well as books. The jail’s library came from publishers—the slightly defected books that would have otherwise been thrown away. She then brought the media in—“This brought an avalanche of goodwill,” says Bedi—always playing her cards perfectly timed.

Just as she does not believe in asking for a budget, nor does Bedi believe in asking for permission. “I did not go to the government to ask for permission. If I did, it would have taken them three years perhaps to give an answer,” she laughs. “Whatever authority I had, according to the manual, I used it,” she says unflinchingly.

Tihar turned all the garbage into manure, which was sold to fund education of the inmates. Bedi also started the India Vision Bread School, now known as the Tihar Baking School—using inmate skills to bring fresh bread to the jail and is now selling it outside too. “They have changed the name, and that is fine. Kiran went away, but the programs stayed, which is great,” says Bedi, who is genuinely pleased that her otherwise jealous colleagues and successors have at least not endangered the many beneficial programs she started.

Yet, of course there were many incidents when colleagues and seniors deliberately tried to pull her down. She recollects the first time she was invited to Bill Clinton’s National Prayer Breakfast Meeting at the White House. “I was asked to decline the invitation. So I declined. But I knew it was an annual event, the invitation will come again. And after the Magsaysay Award, sure it did,” laughs Bedi who knows how to lose the small battles to win the war.

“I was of course upset. I did not unpack my bags and headed straight to work. I went to the jail and danced with the women inmates and forgot all about it. That is what Vipassana teaches you—to leave it behind.”

She even admitted, with rare honesty, that she would have quite easily left her family behind if they had come in her path. “My husband was the most non-interfering man,” said Bedi to an audience roaring with laughter. “However, if he had come in my path, I would have left him. My daughter is very loving, but if she had come in my way, she would have gone to boarding school. My parents too were very supportive. It could have been a very lonely life, if my family had not been so supportive. But in my family, everybody was a giver, no one was a taker.”

Bedi now hosts a TV show, called Aapki Kacheri. “I am a judge resolving many matters. And we intertwine the show with awareness of law,” said Bedi. She also hosts a radio show, meets several speaking engagements and runs two websites for police reform—saferindia.com addresses complaints that the police won’t take and indiapolice.com encourages Indian Police from across states, languages and hierarchies to communicate.

When asked where her enthusiasm comes from, Bedi had a wonderfully simple answer, “From the Sunrise.” She said, “Every morning, each one of us gets 24 hours to do the best of what we can. The Sun never tires of rising does it?”

Yes Madam, Sir will release theatrically in Australia later this year.