Arrested for selling drugs as a teenager, Sanju talks us through the two times ‘Mary Jane’ influenced his destiny. First, it got him into prison and then, motivated him to survive it
“Revenge is good for the human spirit, as long as it’s positive. When behind bars, I dreamt of the day I would be free and could walk straight to those responsible for imprisoning me and put a bullet into their heads. But, all that would be too easy and too short-lived. Instead, I thought it would be sweet revenge to work hard, stay focused on re-scripting my life, and someday, drive my fancy car, with my lady by my side, in front of those inhumane beings who left me to rot in jail.
It was December 31, 1999, a few minutes before 12, the millennials were dressed in their suits and flowing gowns, impatient to usher in the 21st century, while 19-year-old Neil Wilfred Fonseca was selling party-goers the buzz to spike up their New Year’s night. And, at the stroke of midnight, as couples kissed below the fireworks in the night sky, Neil found a strong set of arms around him, his hands folded and pulled to the back, his wrists handcuffed.
He felt himself go numb, his mind turn blank and feet grow cold. He was arrested for illegal possession of drugs under the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances (NDPS) Act.
“Neil was my street name, and in many ways, my alter ego. I thought to myself, this was an intelligent crime I had committed. They called me a peddler, a criminal, and let out a barrage of the choicest swear words as I was convicted and shifted to Aguada jail. For what? Possessing a few grams of naturally-grown greens? Selling marijuana was more like a white-collar crime. Fine, I was a cheater, but I hadn’t harmed any person in particular. Why did I have to share the cell with hardcore criminals like murderers and rapists?” asks Sanjeev Singh Rawat aka Neil.
Born in Mumbai, he was just one-year-old when he was sent to a boarding school in Thane. He then kept jumping schools as he was regularly rusticated for bad behaviour or attendance problems.
“They incarcerated me and left me there with no hope,” says the school drop-out, who began experimenting with drugs when he was 17, not knowing he would be jailed at Aguada in a few years.
He saw his fellow inmates kill themselves out of frustration and depression, but he didn’t let the failures to get bail or a reduced sentence deter his confidence. “I began to look out for positives. Your cellmate is your stepping stone to communication—an essential to keep you sane. You begin to adjust to people, their sense of space, their ideas of religion, their views on politics and football. Then, something beautiful happened,” he says, eyes lit-up, as he begins to explain the influence of the prison ministry in his life.
“Sr Mary Jane was an amazing soul. My favourite time of the day was when she came to visit us. She would teach us songs of nature and life, painting and writing and would encourage us to read.”
“Some extremists accused her of evangelizing, but I shut them up saying this is our only chance to get out of our cloistered spaces and meet someone from the outer world,” says the 37-year-old, who recalls how the prisoners had nicknamed the beloved Christian nun, ‘Sister Marijuana’.
Rawat, inspired by the late social worker, began learning English, took up reading and even considered completing his SSC while in prison. “Sr Mary Jane used to be insulted and mocked many times. I used to watch her from the corner of my eye, standing among 50 criminals and crying. But, she never gave up on us,” says the Siolim resident, who now spends his time teaching handicraft skills, meditation and yoga to locals in the village.
One of his first jobs after being released nine years ago from jail, was as a librarian at the Pandrata Circle Association Library, a French association in Gokarna, Karnataka. He hopes to revive old abandoned libraries in remote villages. “These are the rich resources of local literature and people, for some reason, have stopped visiting libraries to read. The atmosphere of a library cannot be compared to any other reading experience,” he says. Determined to start afresh, he paints, creates art installations and paper bags for a living. He also conducts mandala-making sessions at beaches along the Konkan coastline.
“No regrets,” he says, “Everything happens for a reason. But, I wouldn’t do the things I had done then. I wish I didn’t have to waste my youth in jail. There was meditation in prison, I wish there was mediation too. I was branded a drug dealer, but thanks to the prison ministry supported by Caritas Goa, I came out thinking only about music.” Rawat, who now sports a Rastafarian look, learnt to play the guitar in prison and often frequents cafes and resto-pubs along the coastal belt to play some jazz on the flute. Shy by nature, he is, today, a more confident man and speaks at seminars and workshops across the country.
Sanju, as he is popularly known among friends, is neither a saint, nor does he consider himself a sinner. Achieving his idea of ‘revenge’ may take him a lifetime, but for now, he is content with his modest lifestyle. “The legal system of being innocent until proven guilty works only for the rich and influential in this country. People like us are always guilty, until proven innocent. This must stop as it simply contributes to the vicious circle of crime,” he concludes.
Published in the Sunday Times of India on October 23, 2016. Link http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/goa/Beyond-bars-In-pursuit-of-sweet-revenge/articleshow/55006413.cms
It was December 31, 1999, a few minutes before 12, the millennials were dressed in their suits and flowing gowns, impatient to usher in the 21st century, while 19-year-old Neil Wilfred Fonseca was selling party-goers the buzz to spike up their New Year’s night. And, at the stroke of midnight, as couples kissed below the fireworks in the night sky, Neil found a strong set of arms around him, his hands folded and pulled to the back, his wrists handcuffed.He felt himself go numb, his mind turn blank and feet grow cold. He was arrested for illegal possession of drugs under the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances (NDPS) Act.
“Neil was my street name, and in many ways, my alter ego. I thought to myself, this was an intelligent crime I had committed. They called me a peddler, a criminal, and let out a barrage of the choicest swear words as I was convicted and shifted to Aguada jail. For what? Possessing a few grams of naturally-grown greens? Selling marijuana was more like a white-collar crime. Fine, I was a cheater, but I hadn’t harmed any person in particular. Why did I have to share the cell with hardcore criminals like murderers and rapists?” asks Sanjeev Singh Rawat aka Neil.
Born in Mumbai, he was just one-year-old when he was sent to a boarding school in Thane. He then kept jumping schools as he was regularly rusticated for bad behaviour or attendance problems.
“They incarcerated me and left me there with no hope,” says the school drop-out, who began experimenting with drugs when he was 17, not knowing he would be jailed at Aguada in a few years.
He saw his fellow inmates kill themselves out of frustration and depression, but he didn’t let the failures to get bail or a reduced sentence deter his confidence. “I began to look out for positives. Your cellmate is your stepping stone to communication—an essential to keep you sane. You begin to adjust to people, their sense of space, their ideas of religion, their views on politics and football. Then, something beautiful happened,” he says, eyes lit-up, as he begins to explain the influence of the prison ministry in his life.
“Sr Mary Jane was an amazing soul. My favourite time of the day was when she came to visit us. She would teach us songs of nature and life, painting and writing and would encourage us to read.”
“Some extremists accused her of evangelizing, but I shut them up saying this is our only chance to get out of our cloistered spaces and meet someone from the outer world,” says the 37-year-old, who recalls how the prisoners had nicknamed the beloved Christian nun, ‘Sister Marijuana’.
Rawat, inspired by the late social worker, began learning English, took up reading and even considered completing his SSC while in prison. “Sr Mary Jane used to be insulted and mocked many times. I used to watch her from the corner of my eye, standing among 50 criminals and crying. But, she never gave up on us,” says the Siolim resident, who now spends his time teaching handicraft skills, meditation and yoga to locals in the village.
One of his first jobs after being released nine years ago from jail, was as a librarian at the Pandrata Circle Association Library, a French association in Gokarna, Karnataka. He hopes to revive old abandoned libraries in remote villages. “These are the rich resources of local literature and people, for some reason, have stopped visiting libraries to read. The atmosphere of a library cannot be compared to any other reading experience,” he says. Determined to start afresh, he paints, creates art installations and paper bags for a living. He also conducts mandala-making sessions at beaches along the Konkan coastline.
“No regrets,” he says, “Everything happens for a reason. But, I wouldn’t do the things I had done then. I wish I didn’t have to waste my youth in jail. There was meditation in prison, I wish there was mediation too. I was branded a drug dealer, but thanks to the prison ministry supported by Caritas Goa, I came out thinking only about music.” Rawat, who now sports a Rastafarian look, learnt to play the guitar in prison and often frequents cafes and resto-pubs along the coastal belt to play some jazz on the flute. Shy by nature, he is, today, a more confident man and speaks at seminars and workshops across the country.
Sanju, as he is popularly known among friends, is neither a saint, nor does he consider himself a sinner. Achieving his idea of ‘revenge’ may take him a lifetime, but for now, he is content with his modest lifestyle. “The legal system of being innocent until proven guilty works only for the rich and influential in this country. People like us are always guilty, until proven innocent. This must stop as it simply contributes to the vicious circle of crime,” he concludes.
Published in the Sunday Times of India on October 23, 2016. Link http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/goa/Beyond-bars-In-pursuit-of-sweet-revenge/articleshow/55006413.cms
