A day without toil A night without love A waiting on the shores of history... Of the four days of life for which we have begged, two a...
A day without toil
A night without love
A waiting on the shores of history...
Of the four days of life for which we have begged, two are lost in hope and the rest in waiting, said Bahadur Shah Zafar. In life outside, there is action to separate the hope from the waiting. Action could, of course, lead you to more hope and more waiting. But, lost in activity, time seems to slip through your fingers, your toes, from before your very eyes. Life in prison is not like that.
You are no longer a part of social practice, of history in the making. You are but a spectator, a witness to the present, a symbol of the past. Time reminds you of this every moment.
This morning we rose early, at half past five. It was a rare opportunity today– to watch the live telecast of the opening ceremony of the Seoul Olympics. (It was also rare for me to spend some time with the detainees).
At 5.30, white letters appear on a blue screen: 05.31…32…33. Below that an announcement goes on and off, declaring that the next transmission would be at 05.45. To confess the truth, what I like most about television, with which I have made...
