When Shanti returns two hours later to check on him, she is amazed to discover Mohan sitting on a wooden platform with another man, their backs resting against foam cushions. A crowd of nearly two hundred people is standing around them, waving placards and shouting slogans: 'PORN IS FILTH', 'GANDHI BABA ZINDABAD', 'DOWN WITH JAGDAMBA PAL'.

Mohan looks smug and content. 'How did this happen?' Shanti wants to know.

Mohan points to the middle-aged man sitting next to him in white kurta pyjamas. He has an oval face, a narrow nose, a sharp jawline and shifty eyes. Shanti takes an instant dislike to him. 'This is Mr Awadhesh Bihari. He met me by chance an hour ago and immediately decided to support my cause. It is he who has organized this group and arranged for all the banners and placards.'

'Welcome, Bhabhiji,' Bihari says with the smoothness of a conartist. 'It is a privilege to meet someone as great as your husband. I was telling him how evil this man Jagdamba Pal is. He owns this sleazy cinema and also several brothels.'

'And what do you do?' Shanti asks him.

'I am a politician belonging to the Moral Regeneration Party. I stood against Jagdamba Pal in the last election. The public was solidly behind me, but he rigged the election and won.' He grimaces.

'So are you doing this just to settle political scores?'

'What are you saying, Bhabhiji?' He appears shocked. 'It is our sacred duty to protect our children from being corrupted. We in the MRP look upon ourselves as custodians of Indian culture. You may remember our protest against that lesbian film Girlfriends a few years ago. We tore down all the posters and prevented its screening, despite a court order against us. These sleazy films are an affront to our culture. We are with your husband now, come hell or high water. He will do the fasting; we will provide the back-up.'

'And what if the cinema owner doesn't respond?'

'How will he not respond? We will compel him to respond. But first we need to raise awareness. I have phoned some TV channels to cover our protest.'

Shanti touches her hand to Mohan's forehead, checking to see if he has a fever. 'I am really worried for you. How long can you last without food?'

'We shall both find out,' Mohan smiles. 'Don't worry, Awadhesh here will take care of me.'

In this fashion, bolstered by Shanti's concern and Bihari's assurances, Mohan Kumar passes two days without food. By the third day of the fast, his condition has deteriorated considerably. Doctor Soni checks his pulse and blood pressure and looks concerned. Shanti is beside herself. But there is still no sign of the cinema owner.

That afternoon a van pulls up outside the cinema and a woman dressed in jeans gets out. She has a hard face and cold, calculating eyes. She is trailed by a tall man with a heavy video camera.

Awadhesh Bihari quickly stands up, dusting his kurta. The reporter greets the politician. 'So, Awadhesh Bihariji, will there be some action this time? Your last protest was quite tame.'

The politician gives a shrewd smile. 'You just watch, Nikita. This time we have even lined up Gandhi Baba. Jagdamba Pal will be humiliated in his own den.'

The reporter looks at Mohan Kumar lying on the platform and nods at Bihari. 'I like the Gandhi Baba angle. We might cover it in the evening bulletin.' Lowering her voice to a whisper she tells him, 'If he dies, we will make it the lead story.'

Bihari nods.

'Lobo, I want you to start taking shots,' she instructs the cameraman.

'GANDHI BABA CRITICAL' is the headline in all the newspapers the next morning. At ten o'clock the MLA arrives in a Scorpio, flashing a blue beacon. Four commandos with Sten guns accompany him. The MLA is a giant, square-headed man with jet-black hair and mean dark eyes. Sitting down on the platform next to Mohan Kumar, he whispers to him, 'Gandhi Baba Sahib, why are you doing this?'

'To stop this perversion,' Mohan replies, his voice still strong.

'What you call perversion is a natural human drive. However much you may try to hide it, sex will surface in some form or other.'

'I am not protesting against sex. I am protesting against the perversion of sex, this commodification of women.'

'But my films contain nothing objectionable at all. They are cleared by the Censor Board,' he says. 'If you want to see the commodification of women then go five hundred metres to the underground Palika Bazaar. There you can buy all the triple-X films you want for just a hundred rupees each. Go ten kilometres to GB Road and for a hundred rupees you can actually buy a young girl. Why don't you try and stop these evils instead of picketing our hall?'

'A perversion doesn't cease to be a perversion just because it is perverse to a lesser degree. My fast will be a mortal blow against all purveyors of sin in society.'

'Look, Gandhi Baba, we don't want unnecessary trouble. I am a politician. Your protest is damaging my reputation. On behalf of the Distributors Association of North India, I have been authorized to offer you twenty thousand rupees if you call off your protest.'

Mohan Kumar laughs. 'My fight is not for money. You cannot buy me with four pieces of silver.'

'OK, how about twenty-five thousand, then?'

Mohan Kumar shakes his head. 'Mr Pal, once I have taken a vow, no power on earth can stop me from following it.'

The MLA is beginning to lose his temper. 'Who the hell do you think you are? Here I am, speaking to you so politely and you are behaving as if you are really Mahatma Gandhi. Come now, enough of this drama. I want you to vacate this spot immediately or I will have you forcibly removed.'

'A satyagrahi has infinite patience, abundant faith in others, and ample hope. According to the code of the satyagrahi, there is no such thing as surrender to brute force.'

'You petty bastard.' Jagdamba Pal lunges at Mohan Kumar. A former boxer, he makes unerring contact with Mohan Kumar's face and a fountain of blood gushes from the bureaucrat's nose.

'Hey Ram!' Mohan cries and falls down. Shanti screams in horror. Jagdamba Pal stands for a moment, amazed at what he has done, then scrambles back to his vehicle.

'Gandhi Baba has been hit!' The cry goes through the crowd like bush fire.

'Kill the bastard!' Awadhesh Bihari screams. His followers immediately charge after the MLA, who is already driving away. 'Burn down the cinema!' Awadhesh Bihari shrills and the mob races into the hall.

'Wait…wait…' Mohan shouts, but his cries fall on deaf ears. Within seconds, the surging crowd has broken down the foyer door and rushed into the hall. Ten minutes later, black smoke is billowing from the cinema, the audience is running out in a panic and the air is reverberating with the sirens of ambulances and fire engines.

A police van screeches to a halt in front of the cinema. Constables spring out like rabbits and train their carbines on Mohan Kumar. An Inspector approaches him, accompanied by the cinema manager. 'Is this the man?' he asks, pointing a finger at Mohan.

'Yes, Sir,' the manager cries. 'This is Gandhi Baba. He is responsible for destroying the cinema.'

The Inspector taps his cane on his palm. 'You are under arrest, Gandhi Baba.'

'Arrest? What for?' Mohan asks, a handkerchief pressed on his nose to stop the flow of blood.

'Section 307: attempt to murder, Section 425: mischief resulting in damage to property, Section 337: endangering personal safety of others, Section 153: provocation to riot. Come on, we have had enough of your antics.'

'But my name is not Gandhi Baba. It is Mohan Kumar. I am an ex-IAS officer,' he says haughtily, drawing himself to his full height.

'Doesn't matter what you call yourself. You are under arrest.' He gestures to his constables. 'Take him away.'

Tihar Jail is a series of seven prison blocks in west Delhi. Originally built for seven thousand inmates, it now houses thirteen thousand prisoners, nine thousand of whom are awaiting trial.