Chapter 189: Driving People Crazy
Sanjay Dutt is imprisoned in Arthur Road Jail, the most notorious criminal prison in Mumbai.
Street thugs are not afraid of going to the detention center, but they avoid Arthur Road Prison.
You will live a life worse than death there unless you have a big boss to protect you.
Mumbai's mafia also has its own cells in the prisons, who look after newly imprisoned members of their gangs.
For example, the Dawood gang, the Gowri gang, the Rajan gang... Their gangs have doctors, lawyers, public relations, investigation teams, logistics for running safe houses, and people who provide complete support to jailed gang members.
In order to avoid gang conflicts within prisons, the government has specially designated different prisons for different gangs.
Over time, these gangs have become increasingly involved in their respective prisons.
The Daoud gang specially purchased a motorcycle tricycle and an apartment building near the prison, and hired a cook and a courier.
The chef will prepare three meals in the apartment, and the courier will ride an electric tricycle to deliver hot meals to the inmates.
It was a well-planned and efficiently run food delivery system that made arrested gang members even look forward to the "good days" of serving their sentences, simply because all their needs were fully met.
Even behind bars, a strange competitive mentality still exists between gangs.
For example, during Ganesha festival, the Gowri gang would send a box of sweets to the Dawood gang prisoners in Thane jail.
The boss of the Daoud Gang prison took one look and said, "Huh, is that all?"
Then he gave back a large plate of halvah to the Gauli gang in prison.
Of course, only the middle and high-level members of the gang can enjoy this kind of treatment. Sanjay Dutt is not a gangster, he is a Bollywood star.
On his first night in prison, he was "invited" by the inmates of the Rajan gang to the cell where their leader was.
The boss went to university in London and was originally an engineer. He returned to Mumbai just to reunite with his brother, who is a gang leader.
Anu's husband Vinod Chopra once made a gangster movie based on these two brothers.
The leader asked Sanjay how he felt about being in jail, and Sanjay said he missed his father very much.
So the leader called the prison guard and after some instructions, Sangjie was taken to the duty room as an exception.
His father was very surprised when he received a call from his son in prison at 11 o'clock in the evening.
But Sunil Dutt did not bring good news to Sanjay. He told his son on the phone that there was nothing he could do.
Political opponent Kamal did not keep his promise and Sanjay was not allowed bail because of his involvement in the bombing case.
After hearing this shocking news, Sanjay cried for a long time in prison.
He smokes marijuana, plays with guns, and drives fast cars. He is a real jerk, but he is not a gangster after all.
He is a Bollywood star, earning tonnes of rupees and living a luxurious life that ordinary people can hardly imagine.
How can you let a rich second-generation like this endure life behind bars in prison?
He never sees the sun in prison. The cell where he is held is only two meters square. He brushes his teeth, takes a shower, eats, drinks, defecates and urinates in this small space.
Sanjay's family brought food to him, but it was snatched away by the rest of the people as soon as he was behind bars. He could only survive on the inedible prison food.
What's worse is yet to come. Sanjay Dutt is a big star, which attracts a lot of attention.
Judge Patel, who initially heard the case, was determined to bring down Sanjay, so Sanjay's lawyer requested that the presiding judge recuse himself. Not only was the request rejected, but Judge Patel also became more resentful.
So he was put in solitary confinement. There was no window, and the silence of the small dark room was enough to drive a person crazy.
Then Sanjay learned to make friends with nature, and every night four sparrows would fly in from the small exhaust fan.
He held out his broad palm, in which lay the few crumbs he had saved.
He greedily and carefully stroked the birds' feathers while they pecked at food, for he was so eager to touch the living creatures.
Sanjay also made friends with the ants that climbed along the sewage pipes. He could watch the ants motionlessly for hours and would help them when they were having trouble carrying food.
He had never observed every corner of the cell so carefully. There was no clock here, only the sound of his own heartbeat.
He roughly guessed the sunrise and sunset times based on the patterns of appearance of these small animals.
However, insects, birds and rats have limited appeal to Sanjay, and he is almost going crazy.
Sanjay gripped the iron bars of his cell, pressing his face against the rusty steel bars.
He tried to look around, but due to the limited space, he could only see a corner of the dark corridor.
He yelled and swore loudly, but no one responded.
The entire corridor, the entire prison, the entire world, seemed to be filled with only him.
Sanjay was tired, his eyes dead. He knocked his head lightly, and the pain on his forehead told him that this world still existed.
He bumped into it again, and the pain became more pronounced.
Bang, bang, bang, the sound became louder and louder, and even the steel grille began to tremble.
The sharp friction sound of the iron door pierced the silence.
There was light coming in, so bright that Sangjie couldn't see anything for a moment, but he tried hard to keep his eyes open.
He didn't dare close his eyes, fearing that all this was an illusion.
"Son!" Sunil Dutt rushed over.
Sangjie was a little dazed. He looked at his father's tearful face and pulled the corners of his mouth.
Is this really an illusion? How could an outsider enter a place where I'm being held in solitary confinement?
Until a young man came into Sanjay's sight. He was not a prison guard, nor his good friend, but he looked familiar.
Finally, Sanjay slowly confirmed that this was real, his father was hugging him and crying loudly.
"Dad." He was so weak that he could hardly shout, and tears welled up in his eyes.
Ron stuffed a few rupees into the pocket of the prison guard next to him and whispered a few words.
The fat prison guard clasped his hands together, bowed obsequiously to express his gratitude, and then hurried out.
I don't know why, but the proportion of fat people among Indian police is surprisingly high.
Ron could see such fat people almost every time he went to a police station, and often more than one.
Over there, the Dutt father and son had calmed down. Old Dutt wiped his eyes and looked sad.
"Mr. Sur, you must help me. He can't stay here anymore, he will die!" Old Dutt clasped his hands together, his voice hoarse.
"Don't worry, I've already made the call. Someone will be here to take care of it right away," Ron comforted him.
There was a shadow swaying at the iron gate, and the fat policeman hurried over with the doctor.
Sanjay's forehead was covered in blood and old Dutt was frightened the moment he came in.
He thought his son was being abused, so he asked Ron for help regardless of the consequences.
After the doctor came in, he cleaned Sanjay's wound and sewed about ten stitches on his forehead.
Tsk, that crooked technique made Ron frown.
What a crappy technique, it's far inferior to his.
"Doctor Sur." The prison medical staff stood up awkwardly, and he seemed to realize that he was just showing off his expertise.
"Remember to clean his wound and change the dressing on time. Pay attention to hygiene and avoid infection."
"Yes, yes." The doctor took the tip and left with a nod.
The ugly stitches weren't because Ron had obsessive-compulsive disorder, but because his surgical skills were so good that he could truly look down on most doctors in India.
He had too many opportunities to practice. Not to mention the slums of Mumbai and the Sur Electrical Appliance Factory, he had also treated more than one gunshot wound in Uttar Pradesh.
How many doctors have such extensive clinical experience? Ron's medical license was not obtained in vain.
"Silly boy, why are you so hard on yourself?" Old Duterte, who understood the whole story, couldn't help but blame him.
"No one has spoken to me for seven days. I'm going crazy!" Sanjay squatted on the ground with his head in his hands.
"Mr. Soul, you must take me to see Thackeray. I will agree to any conditions!" Old Dutt had never been as heartbroken as today.
Ron didn't answer him first, but glanced at the two prison guards beside him. They left very tactfully, closing the iron gate, leaving only the three of them.
Anil stood guard at the end of the corridor, and Ron took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to Sanjay.
He took it tremblingly, picked up one, and put it under his nose greedily to take a deep sniff.
It was just an ordinary cigarette, but Sanjay felt as if he had tasted sweet wine. His tense muscles and spirit slowly relaxed.
"You know his personality, right? He's very strong." Ron looked at Old Duterte. "You must admit defeat completely and satisfy his inner pride. Otherwise, this matter will be very difficult to handle."
"I know, I understand Thackeray, and I'm ready." Old Dutt made up his mind.
"It will cost a lot of money, a lot of money, enough to impress Thackeray."
"No problem!" Old Duterte agreed without hesitation.
"Thackeray was very grateful to his late wife, and his villa is full of her photos," Ron reminded.
"I know what to do." Old Duterte's eyes flashed.
"You too," Ron looked at Sanjay who was lighting a cigarette, "Do you know what the first thing to do when you get out?"
Sanjay's head was like a rusty machine now. It took him a long time to realize that Ron was talking to him.
"What?" he asked woodenly.
"If you are released on bail, the first thing you should do is not go home, but go to Thackeray's villa. This will ensure that no trouble comes to you."
"Okay." Sangjie, who was fearless, is now as obedient as a sheep.
"Mr. Soul, he can't stay here anymore. He must move to another place."
Old Duterte was still worried about his son. He felt terrified just standing in such a horrible place of confinement.
There is no light, no sound, and the encroaching loneliness will bring you to pieces.
"I'll call Ajie later, and he'll help with this."
When mentioning Aj Lal, Ron couldn't help but sigh.
He was one of the few people Ron could call his friend, but he was just a bit too crazy.
He is selfless, fearless of power, and acts directly, never beating around the bush.
With his power, there will be a lot of people lining up to make money.
As a result, Old Lal owed two million in high-interest loans, and he simply couldn't come up with any extra savings.
It was only recently that he was promoted to the rank of Inspector of Police, and his salary was increased to 7,000 rupees.
This is not even as much as the bribes his men received in a day. It is simply the most fantastic news in India.
Ron cherishes his friend Aggie very much, and he feels a little sorry for him this time.
(End of this chapter)
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