8th January, 1977 It was a cloudy day, with sharp cold wind blowing. I kept myself most indoors. Life here is settling down to a pattern. Now the initial period of anxiety will be replaced by a period of growing monotony. The second stage has started. GM looks after me with ease, but he is not such a company to me that can enliven the monotonous hours of the prison. His interests are very practical, and he brings this practical sense to bear upon the political subject which is the only common subject between us. He is not interested in theories and abstract thoughts. My tastes are opposite to his. Therefore he can't provide company of the kind that I need.
We don't have books to take up my interest. By chance, GM brought some books, mostly unreadable. One of the books is a collection of essays by Santayana and another is by Cahn Predicament of Democratic Man. They aren't the stuff that can rouse me from present psychological depression. Santayana is woolly, like some Hindu Philosopher, and moreover the important essays in the collection are pragmatory and were initially meant as rough drafts for longer composition. Predicament of Democratic Man is just readable. I need books which can titillate my interest in studies to begin with. Novels perhaps, history, biography-to serve as appetisers. They can raise me, in the process, from the trough of despondency. I cannot contact home for books. I didn't bring any with me.
The camp commander is under the impression that we will get the facilities of interviews and correspondence as before which means we can send letters on the last day of the month, and on the 2nd day of the month our people can interview us, i.e. today is 25th Paus-five days hence, we can send our letters and seven days hence, people will come to meet us. But there is a snag. In the old times we got letters, any number of them, on any day, with proper and careful censor. Since we haven't received any, the major impression may ultimately prove wrong.
GM thinks that our being kept in incommunicado, if it has any sense, will be meaningless if interviews are granted. Political purpose of our detention in strict isolation could be that the king would talk to us. We have not been given newspapers-and no written communication of any kind from home.
9th January, 1977 Sundarijal
In the morning I got up as usual, took tea with GM. Did routine exercise but I felt a little out of focus. For sometime, I get buzzing sensations in my head and also feel as if I am putting on a cap that tightly grips the head. I have sometimes felt for the non-existent cap on my head. I also get pulse throbs at the roots of my ears. Today during exercise, I felt a sensation of nausea too. I don't know what it may be due to-low blood pressure. High colour in my urine is however, disappearing. I have sent for my regular medicines for stomach trouble and colitis and also for a doctor.
The day was cloudy. I put on the heater and lay indoors. Couldn't concentrate in reading. Spent most of the day in bed. Nothing interesting. I wanted to do some washing; but the day being cloudy and the water being ice-cold, and my mood being what it is, I just threw dirty clothes into the corner.
I used to be impatient with those who, the moment they are thrown into prison, would be panicky or extremely anxious. I can now sympathise with them. Sushila has a dread for prison. It is a healthy dread. I am today full of warmth for Sushila and others who are in Indian jail, Bhim Bahadur and others in Nepal's jails. I can now understand the psychological trauma that Chakra suffered during the short period he was in Purnea and Bhagalpur. In 1947, Biku used to weep openly and cry out long moans of depression while he was with us in the Nakkhu Detention Camp. It was, perhaps, necessary that I should have gone through the present distressing period and felt so weak so that I could put myself in the position of the large number of our comrades who are rotting in various prisons, both in India and Nepal. I am drawn closer to them.
As I lay lazily in my bed, I began to think about Nepal and my people. What is their fate? I have hitched my wagon to their destiny. If it has a future, I too have one. This identification with the fate of the country (bombastic presumptuousness?) sustains me. After all, I came voluntarily to Kathmandu to place myself at the disposal of a dictator. This was a voluntary risk I took in the interest of the country according to my light.
From GM's home, a toaster, a bottle of achar and a pair of shoes and Mailpos-Suruwal for him came. Learnt that PL is in prison. He had come to Kathmandu after seeing us at Patna a day earlier, i.e. on the 29th of December. He was arrested at the airport itself.
