The Weight(Wait) of a Sentence.

The unseen burden of punishment beyond prison walls.

illustrated by Shreya Kedia

The idea here was to do some workshops with ex-inmates to see what they think and feel about ceramics. These were ceramic workshops aimed at exploring whether creative expression could serve as a space for reflection, skill-building, and healing. I was hoping to have some of the participants accompany me into prison to help me conduct similar ceramic workshops.

The reality of what I am dealing with first hit me when one of the ex-inmates — who had taken part in my ceramic workshops — stood out for his skill, patience, and creativity. Over my first few weeks working with them I had seen him consistently to be thoughtful, engaged in work with the community while associated with an NGO.

He had already served about six years in Tihar as an undertrial. Then, due to overcrowding and related issues, some undertrials were released for an interim period. During this time, he found work and re-established relationships at home and in the community.

Every now and then, he would attend court hearings — while living under the shadow of a looming final verdict, supporting a cancer-ridden sister with expensive medical needs, and being the sole breadwinner for his parents, sister, and her family.

One day, all my participants weren’t their usual selves. There was an air of fear, sadness, and hopelessness in the room. It turned out that this same man had been taken back into custody immediately after his final hearing — sentenced to life imprisonment and back to Tihar Jail.

There was disbelief in everyone’s mind. This was a turn of events no one had expected.

Wrongfully convicted or not, adequate punishment or not — that’s not the question here. The real question is: who all were at the receiving end of this sentence? How many people bore the weight of his punishment?

I am not saying one should not be punished if one is wrong. I’m just trying to understand the impact of a punishment — and go beyond what we know. Even a punishment, however rightly given, impacts so many more people. Some people who aren’t at fault at all. Is there another way of doing things? I don’t know. And maybe this is the best way… but I had never thought about it until now.

His family, who might now lose their home. His sister, whose medical treatment will be affected. The younger generation in his care, whose education is now uncertain. The community( an urban slum) whose voice he had become. And the many ex-inmates still awaiting trial — wondering what kind of justice, if any, awaits them.

How many lives does a single sentence touch? Who carries its weight, day after day, beyond prison walls?