9.11.77 10.11.77
Early in the morning GM entered my room to convey the sad news of Subarnaji's death yesterday. The Camp Commander had come with the news last night but I had already gone to bed. I am sad, extremely sad. I was with him two weeks ago, and although he was very ill, I hadn't expected the call would come so soon. People told me that he had picked up some hopefulness after my visit-otherwise he used to sink deeper into despondency, which had deprived him of the will to live. I had told him that I would contact my doctor in New York about his case-if it was possible to do an operation on him. He said-but you are returning to Nepal who will do this work for us? I said-I will send your reports to him and also to another doctor of mine who would be visiting Delhi towards the end of the 1st week of Nov. Even if I am back in prison, Sushila will look after this urgent matter. Since some 3 yrs, he and myself were drifting apart in politics. I told-forget about the differences. We are old friends, we have to work together again. Get well. Don't lose heart. He said if he recovered he would like to work with me + under my guidance, as in the past. Why did he die yesterday? He must have heard of my return to Nepal and to prison the day before. Then he must have lost all hope, perhaps. Will to live extinguished? Kosu, Rosa, Niru,
Kalpana, Sriharsha, Ruchira, Kalpana's little daughter came to see me in the morning by special permission. Since Kosu wanted to leave Kathmandu tomorrow he had sought special permission from the commandant to interview me. I asked him to take care of Sushila, and if possible to sell some land in Biratnagar to provide for her in Varanasi. Kosu says that the land couldn't be disposed of easily since there are many legal difficulties. I remain worried for Sushila. I couldn't make financial arrangements for her before. I came away to Kathmandu to be arrested, Rosa told-that Ganeshrajji + Kusum were contemplating moving to high court for the illegality of my arrest at the airport-which according to the police was.a provision for my safety against hostile demonstrations at the airport. From the airport Shailaja + Rishikesh Shaha were taken to the latters' home where they were released. Baggage were inspected by the customs authorities at Shaha's place. My baggage was brought to us but my radio was not permitted to me. The officer who presides over our interview-he is perhaps an intelligence officer-takes me on my inquiry that Shailaja will not be permitted to see me, because although she is my relative and hence should be in usual course be permitted to interview me as relatives are, she is a political person on which ground she cannot see me. This will be my greatest deprivation in prison.
11.11.77
Definitely, prison life does not suit me. It is only my sense of pride and commitment to my ideal + care for the protection of my dignity that sustains me in prison. The moment I am behind the bars I become homesick, start missing everybody and small things that are available outside. I start loving those whom I love with greater intensity and am overwhelmed with remorse that I have not done my duty by those who need my care. I have neglected the upbringing of my children and their education. They have got whatever education they have got or are getting without care and plans on my part. They have a fond mother, who smothers them with her love, but she is only a mother, not a guardian.
12.11.77
I am gradually settling down to the melancholy routine of jail life. I started reading, although very light books-to get into the proper mental training to be able to tackle serious ones later. In the Patna airport Shailaja had bought some books from the stall for me. She has inscribed her name on them with fragments of sentiments of love for me. All prime minister's men-a sordid story of Indira Gandhi's vulgar politics conducted for her by her petty vulgar tyrants. I finished it yesterday, and the alarming thought recurs to me that the book is a true document-how could it happen? What happened in Nepal, I used to think, was incomprehensible-the incredible roll call of Giri, Vishwabandhu Thapa, Bista, Dil Bahadur, Khadga B., etc etc etc. But India left Nepal miles behind in vulgarity and chicanery and deceit and arrogance. I am reading 'Clive', by Nirad Chaudhari-a very superficial study. That Clive could be two specks of the writer himself-who has style but no substance, poise but no depth. I haven't finished the book yet-so I can make up my mind about the book only partially-but it is definitely a belaboured attempt on the part of the writer, his other book on Max Muller is slightly better but that book too is not a definite study of the life of Max Muller. I wonder why Nirad C. wrote their biographies.
IG (Police) has been visiting me almost everyday. Today he came to tell me that my doctor Mrigendraraj is in USA and hence won't be available for consultation for some time and that he was contemplating bringing in some Dixit. He, by the way, suggested that I should think out a process by which I could be able to remain out of prison-the king was not going to take the initiative, etc, that my presence among the people itself could start a process of polarisation etc, etc. I shouldn't insist on the whole bread-that I should be satisfied with a small portion of it to start with, that I am wasting my time, that at least I mustn't insist on the party system of polity etc.
Today is Bhai Tika. Indira could have come to apply tika to me but she is in Biratnagar + I sent word to her not to come just for this purpose. GM's sisters + others came. It rained in the evening, I have a cough.
