No Shackles To Learning

Author: Ambreesh Mishra
Publication: India Today
Dated: July 9, 2007

Introduction: Over two dozen life-term convicts in the Bhopal Central Jail are pursuing MBA degrees which keeps their minds off the harsh prison routine and also gives them something to look forward to

Mahipal Singh Rajput, a 51-year­old agriculturist from the fer­tile Narmada belt in Hoshangabad, is studying the Reliance Fresh model these days. With masters degrees in economics and ge­ography, his interest in the evolving or­ganised retail of farm products is only natural, but for the fact he is convicted of murder and is serving a life sentence. And the studies are a part of his ongo­ing MBA programme.

Over two dozen inmates of the Bhopal Central Jail are at present pur­suing MBA degrees. Barring one, all of them including a woman, are serving life-terms for murder. The only convict without the tag of Section 302 in the MBA programme is a young man convicted of attempt to murder. Their crimes taught them a lot about life. Now the penal sentence is opening up new av­enues of learning.

The MBA course in the prison is being run by Bhoj University for Distance Learning, modelled on the lines of the Indira Gandhi National Open University. "The very idea of distance education is to reach out to hitherto un­touched groups. Who could be more se­cluded than the con­victs lodged in jails?" says university Vice Chancellor Dr Kamlakar Singh.

The first three in-mates, who earned their MBA degrees, were serving short-term sentences and have already been released.

In the current batch, all, without exception, have passed their second semester exams. The convicts have been diligent in their efforts at pursu­ing the degree. Ever since the jail was recognised as a study centre two years ago, faculty members from Bhoj University hold regular classes here. The prison library now has an impres­sive array of books on management. The university regularly lends periodi­cals and papers to the inmates on rel­evant subjects. Dr. Nafees Ahmed Khan, who teaches management, says, "Their enthusiasm is touching, given the circumstances. To ensure they're not left out on the exposure front, we're trying to evolve a system whereby we can have guest lectures arranged for them in the jail from eminent busi­nesspersons."

According to Jail Superintendent Purushottam Somkunwar, who is also the brain behind MBA and DCA courses, their efforts to bring over corporate managers as guest or motivational speakers have only been par­tially successful. "They can't spare time on weekdays while no­body wants to let go of weekends just to give lectures to inmates here," he says. Now, the jail's own labour programme, which mandates six hours of compulsory work for each inmate sen­tenced to rigorous imprisonment, could show a way out.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks in their completion of a meaningful MBA programme is that the onvicts can nei­ther do internship nor join as manage­ment trainees at any organisation. Besides, proper case studies based on field research are impossible due to their confinement. To top it all, there are legal constraints against their use of Internet due to connectivity to the outside world. Realising the odds against conducting a successful MBA programme in a prison, the jail admin­istration is trying to think out of the box.

But for their conviction for murder, the convicts have little in common. Shalini Pathak, an unmarried 28-year­old from Sehore who holds a masters in English literature, was accused of being part of a gang of highway rob­bers who waylaid unsuspecting mo­torists. One heist went terribly wrong and the victim was killed. She was con­victed for murder five years ago. With her appeal against the lower court order pending in Jabalpur High Court, Shalini decided to pursue MBA and plans to specialise in human resources (HR) management.

HR appears to be the stream of choice among the MBA aspirant con­victs. "It's because we can remain in the background when we eventually get out and land jobs. Nobody would want convicts of murder at the frontline jobs in sales or marketing," explains Kamlesh Gaur, 28, who worked with a leading NGO in his hometown Sehore before getting involved in a violent crime and being convicted. He wanted to pursue a masters in social work but the course is not available in the prison.

The motivation for joining the MBA course differs in each case. For Mahipal, the eldest of the group, it was simply to motivate fellow inmates. "If a 51-year-old guy can do it, so can oth­ers," he says. As a bonus, the grandkids in his affluent joint-family who always abhorred the idea of pursuing profes­sional courses are beginning to get se­rious about quality education.

For others like the 30-year-old Rajesh Shakya, an electrical engineer from Bhopal who began his sentence six years ago, it is simply an extension of his plans before he was convicted. "It was clear by the time I had finished my engineering that it wouldn't amount to much in the job market," he says, adding that the rigours of an MBA course kept him occupied and diverted his mind from the harsh prison routine.

Each inmate who is serving a life­-term has filed an appeal in the Jabalpur High Court against the conviction ver­dict of the lower court. And barring 40­year-old Mohammed Jaleel from Sironj who has already been incarcerated for12 years, there is little hope for them of getting out early, if their appeals are re­jected in the higher courts. The fact that they could be in prison for the long haul doesn't bother the wannabe MBAS. Shailendra Batham, 24, who was con­victed when still only 18, says with a philosophically touch, "What has hap­pened is past. Future is the only thing we can look forward to."

After the roller-coaster ride in the life of crime and punishment, many convicts begin to acquire a deep belief in the idea of fate. Others turn to reli­gion for solace. "That's the reason why we have launched courses in priest­hood and astrology. The idea is to keep them occupied with things they are comfortable with in a disturbed phase of their lives. Besides, it's a good liveli­hood choice for convicts after their re­lease," says Somkunwar.

For all its novelty and potential, the idea is a flash in the pan, the out­come of individual initiative on the part of some officials rather than an in­stitutionalised approach to wide-rang­ing prison reforms. The first open jail in the country for surrendered dacoits of the dreaded Chambal region closed down well over two decades ago. The only surviving open jail is in Sanganer in Rajasthan without much effort for its replication elsewhere.

The Do Aankhein, Barah Haath mo­ment, immortalised on celluloid by the late V Shantaram, appears to have passed prisons by even as the Justice Mulla Commission report on prison re­forms and big tomes of recommenda­tions by every conceivable agency-right from parliamentary committees on women welfare to state human rights commissions and leading law schools-have belaboured the need for such reforms.

Prisons being a subject on the state list, the amendments to laws, codes and manuals must come from the state legislature. Explains Professor C. Rajshekhar of National Law Institute University, "Unfortunately, most lawmakers these days come from a rural-feudal background where the idea of retributive justice is deeply entrenched." But for this band of brothers serving life-terms, the idea of a professional degree is enough to look at the future with hope.


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