I have a friend called King.
Not his real name.
Just a pet name we gave him during our boyhood days.
King is a jailbird.
I won’t get into why and how he
ended up in jail right away.
King turned 50 in
February this year, 2014.
He didn’t blow candles.
He didn’t get a smashing birthday party.
Nobody toasted to his good health.
He didn’t get laid…I hope not, damn it! Not in that prison cell-it would break my heart!
He celebrated it as he had
celebrated the last three birthdays, in his drab jail
clothes, toiling in the laundry section of the jail
by day and sleeping on an ultra thin mattress by
night in a dark cell that he called home for the three
years (including the time he spent in remand).
He celebrated it by dreaming about freedom.
The first year after the judge threw him…
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