Wallowing

The next morning it was my turn to visit the courthouse. I had hoped that we would be out on bail that day. The cop that arrested us said it would be no more than 3 days. Despite the fact I read my charges were non bailable, I had faith in corruption. It was now my god and only hope of getting out of there. I jumped on the bus and sat near the back next to an old lady dressed in a bright pink sari. I preferred the back of the bus in this particular situation.
The guards had the habit of sitting with their AK 47's laying on their lap like little kittens, pointing their firing hole at the cons. Every pothole we passed over we all ducked for safety. The stability of the bus' suspension was more than questionable. And that kitty jumped on the guard's lap like it had just seen a dog.
The 25 minute bus ride though New Delhi, was like waiting for the oncologist to give you your test results. Excruciating, slow, torturous.
The lady sitting next to me saw my angst. She caressed my head softly and suddenly pulled an apple out of her breast and gave it to me. She said, "No cry, you go soon...." It was like an omen, or at least I wanted to believe it was. I wanted to believe in everything that gave me hope. At that moment I believed that a breast sweated apple was an omen of good fortune. I took the holy apple and put it in my bra. That's where we kept things in prison. That's how we rolled.
We were all put in a holding cell behind the courthouse.
Same cell were I waited the very first day before going to Tihar Prison, same place I met Smile and trusted that when she said, "Oh, It's nice in there" It was true. I sat there waiting for my name to be called. Every time your name was called you got to go in front of a judge "Sandeep" (apparently all judges are named Sandeep) and you were a step closer to getting out on that oh so coveted "Bail". 5 hours later my name was finally called. I was escorted through a back patio full of male prisoners into the courtroom.
The courtroom looked like some old folks home storage room. It had furniture piled up to the ceiling and piles of old dusty books under the clerk's desks that looked like they had been there since the British invaded India.
It was filthy, dusty and gave me allergies. It was all a chaotic mess. I stood in the middle of that courtroom hoping that the apple digging a hole on the side of my thorax, was the lucky charm I had been waiting for.
Mr. Paredes, my consul, was busy walking in and out of the courtroom frantically. He was holding a suitcase full of sweaty wads of cash my family had sent over so we could bribe people.
Evergreen's lawyers were giving me the evil eye. Their filthy smirks reminding me how vile humans can be.
Evergreen ignored me as if she couldn't deal with her own guilt of seeing me so destroyed by her wrong doing.
I stared back at her with no expression, no anger and no remorse. My eyes pierced through her saying, I can take it. You haven't won yet. Amidst the chaos in the courtroom and my allergies a sudden strike of Judge Sandeep's Thor hammer announced my fate in broken English. "Bail deeenied!'

Stupid

My two room mates, Hui and Wei walked in as I sat there whaling and refusing to open up the "book of terror". Wei, my loving China doll, held me in her arms and opened the book for me. She could read English, French and Mandarin and was stuck in that hell hole along with me over someone else's fake passport. Someone else she didn't even know mind you. She was ready to be canonized if you ask me. "You want me to read them for you?" She asked sweetly. Yes I said. OK, your charges are..........Her eyes widened as she started to read in a very subtle voice. As she read my fate I sat there in awe, as if I was watching a movie of someone else's life unfold in front of me. Her subtle voice pounded my eardrums like a hammer on an aluminum pot.
120 - Criminal Conspiracy.
Punishment of criminal conspiracy. (1) Whoever is a party to a criminal conspiracy to commit an offence punishable with death, (2) Imprisonment for life or rigorous imprisonment for a term of seven years or upwards, shall, where no express provision is made in this Code for the punishment of such a conspiracy, be punished in the same manner as if he had abetted such offense. Non bailable charge, Non quash-able charge.
405 - Criminal breach of trust.-- Whoever, being in any manner entrusted with property, or with any dominion over property, dishonestly misappropriates or converts to his own use that property.
Punishment for breach of trust. 1* imprisonment for life or with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to ten years, and shall also be liable to fine.
Needless to say my shopping spree, new pillow and my visit to "Jailbucks" were brutally quashed by my cathartic understanding that I was, in fact, in a maximum security prison on the opposite side of the planet, accused of non bailable, non quashable charges that carried a sentence up to life or at least 10 years of being stuck in that shithole.
I was speechless for the rest of the night. How was I going to prove that I had not conspired to commit a crime?
Yes my dears, I was fucked. Broke and fucked half way around the world inside the planet's asshole. It was getting very hard to breathe that night. The fluorescent light bulb in our cell was a creepy creature staring me down and making me face my reality. I hated that light bulb. I hated my life. I hated myself for being so freakin stupid.

No money, no titles, no me?

How do you function in a place where money doesn't count, education is obsolete, titles, resumes, credits or previous experience is worthless. Who are you in a place like that? I was starting to realize this was the real world. If a nuclear disaster strikes us, this is what the world will be like. No money, no CEO's, VP's, movie stars...no nothing. Just us humans trying to survive each other and, If we're lucky, trying to help each other survive. I look like any old Indian girl from Kashmir, so I assumed that role. It was better for me to have people think I was local and not western. Western people all have money. Even if we're broke, according to their Eastern perception, we are the lucky bitches here on earth. Bhavna finally explained to me how I could get money deposited at the "jail bank" by an outside person. I asked Mr. Paredes, the Mexican Consul, to deposit all of $50 dollars, I thought three days fifty bucks, that's about enough. Little did I know.
So on I went the next day to buy stuff to the "Jailer Joe's" - I bought some sort of fancy fried tostito things, colored pencils, a few white pages, Indian bottled water.......(really?) and shampoo. By this time my hair was a hot mess. I had been un-showered for about 5 days now, the two days in the police station and three days here. I needed a shower urgently. The good thing is we had no mirrors in jail. Or at least, I hadn't see one yet. So after my deadly shopping spree I returned happy and exhausted to "Chez Vega-Hui-Wei" AKA cell number 8. I got home to a nice surprise, Fatima, the veteran African woman that sold the chai in our ward had brought me gifts! She gave me a pair of pants with a beautiful african animal print on them, and a pillow she had made herself with cotton and a t-shirt. My gifts were waiting for me on my dirty old wool blanket sleeping mat. My heart swell up, my eyes well up and I went to look for her at the "Jailbucks". "Fatima!" I yelled, thank you so much! I gave her a huge hug. She was happy to see me happy. She invited me into the lunch area - She sat there with her two friends from England and Germany. They were all there on similar charges. Drug possession for England and drug trafficking for Germany. England was nice, she was tall and blue eyed. And of course as soon as they could they both asked me, why are you here? What did you do? I was surprised to figure out I had no actual idea what my charges were. So I lied. Well, sort of I just said. It's complicated. Fatima quickly said, it's stealing right? My blood pressure dropped. I felt faint. I didn't even know what I was accused of, it could be anything. I left the "Jailbucks" and head over to Angeli's office.
Angeli was our warden. She took care of all the newcomers into ward 8. Ward 8 was were you spent your days until you were formally convicted or let go. So I got to her office in the middle of the patio, knocked on her door. Felt myself getting paler every knock I gave the door. She opened and i practically fell into her office rambling like a moron. "Hi, I don't know what i'm accused of, do you know? I have no idea why I'm here. I shouldn't be here. I didn't do anything! I was just trying to go home...." She looked at me knowing I was realizing where I was. She sat me down and gave me some water. As I started regaining my capacity to inhale oxygen she went to her drawer and pulled out a little book. She chose a few pages, marked them with a piece of paper and handed it over to me. "I marked the charges that are on your case, read them over so you know what your chances are...." I took the little book and walked over to Chez Vega, I sat on my wool mat and started crying. I couldn't bring myself to look. Little did I know.....