The telephone rang. The call was from the President of our ladies club. “Our committee members are going to the jail,” she announced, adding: “Don’t get panicky; we are going to talk to the women prisoners. We want you to come, tomorrow at 10’o clock in the morning.”

Next day we left for the jail, with prior information about the requisite mode of conversations with the women prisoners. We were briefed by the jail warden not to provoke or get provoked.

The warden led us to the cells. We saw 4 to 5 women huddled together in a small room with scant ventilation. They gave us hostile look seething with anger, scorn and revenge.

One of us said: “How are you? We are your friends. We have come here just to comfort you.”
A very broad smile beamed on their faces after hearing our open hearted voice and compassion in our eyes. They got up and came near the barred door.

Each one of them told their names. One said “I am Seetha but I was not Seetha like to my husband, I killed him and I am here”.

We moved to the next cell, where we heard a baby crying. Here the scene was different: half a dozen ladies were gathered around a baby and the mother was wailing.

As soon as she saw us, she said: “Amma, please take this baby with you. I cannot nurse it. The milk has dried; it will die soon for want of milk, Amma. Give this to a childless couple or...... or leave it on the road. I can't bear to see it die.”

The scene was heart-wrenching. As the lady guard came and asked us to move, our eyes were wet and hearts melting.

The warden came to ask if we were up to the ordeal of meeting some hard core women criminals in the cells.
But, we had had enough and moved fast towards the gate, beyond which there was the world outside.
The visit had stirred the philosophers in us. We left with the thought that the world is after all full of criminals, but while some are inside (the jail), some are outside.