'What… what… what are you people doing out of your cells?' the flustered sentry asks as he is pinned to the ground.

'Shut up!' the leader barks, while one of his partners picks up the rifle and trains it on the guard. 'Open the gate.'

Shaking with fear, the sentry takes a bunch of keys from his trouser pocket. With trembling fingers he unlocks the padlock and the gate swings open. At that very instant the leader strikes the guard with the butt of the pistol. He topples down soundlessly.

Mohan begins shivering. 'Please don't kill me,' he pleads with his abductors. The leader laughs. It is the last thing Mohan hears before his head explodes in pain and everything turns black.

When he regains consciousness, Professor Varshney is bending over him. 'I'm OK, you're OK?'

'Where am I?' Mohan asks.

'In custody.'

He looks around and finds himself in the prison's dispensary. There is a newspaper on the side table. He picks it up and finds his picture plastered on the front page. 'DARING JAIL BREAK IN TIHAR – GANDHI BABA INJURED', the headline proclaims. Below it are the details:

Red-faced officials were hard put to explain what they were doing watching a cabaret in the highsecurity prison while three dreaded terrorists managed their getaway. How they escaped from their cells and smuggled a pistol into the Tihar complex is still being investigated. Meanwhile, a massive shake-up has been ordered.

The government's retribution is swift. The warden is suspended. Eighteen jail staff are summarily transferred. A tough new jailer is appointed. Babloo Tiwari and Mohan Kumar are shifted from their swanky cell to a narrow dormitory with two new cellmates – Professor Varshney and Dr Tirumurti. The gangster curses the Kashmiris. 'Bloody bastards, now I will have to suffer like the rest. They have taken away my mobile. Even the radio and TV have been banned. How will I survive in this hell hole?'

'The Gita says, give up attachments and dedicate yourself to the service of God and your fellow men,' Mohan intones.

'Who is this Gita?'

'Gita is the key to the scriptures of the world. It teaches the secret of non-violence, the secret of realizing self through the physical body.'

'What crap are you talking, Mohan Sahib?'

'True development consists of reducing ourselves to a cipher.'

'Has he gone mad?' Babloo looks at Tirumurti. 'No, Babloo Saab. He is revealing the knowledge that so far he

has kept hidden from us. We are witnessing the rebirth of Gandhi Baba.'

'This is very convenient,' Babloo sneers. 'As long as we were in that VIP cell he had no qualms about drinking my whisky. And now that we are in this hell hole, he becomes Gandhi Baba? I tell you, he is nothing but a fraud.'

'Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde?' Varshney interjects.

'Have you seen this report, Babloo Saab?' Tirumurti points to the newspaper in his hand. 'It says that judgment in Vicky Rai's case has been postponed to 15 February.'

'What difference does it make when they pronounce the verdict? The outcome is already known to everyone.' Babloo waves dismissively.

'Yes, there is no justice in this country,' Tirumurti sighs. 'A man like Gandhi Baba is in jail and a murderer like Vicky Rai is out on bail.'

'We have entered the heart of darkness,' Varshney says gravely.

The mention of Vicky Rai makes Mohan Kumar suddenly alert. His brow furrows and his pupils dilate. 'Vicky Rai… Vicky Rai… Vicky Rai,' he mumbles, as though someone has raked an old wound.

'I am going to make a wager on this case. I will bet you a million to one that Vicky Rai will walk free,' Babloo declares.

'I agree,' Tirumurti nods his head.

'He will be gone with the wind,' adds Varshney.

'What is this?' Mohan berates them. 'You people are speaking as if the British are still ruling India. In those days, I agree, justice was denied in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. But now we are our own rulers. I am sure Vicky Rai will get his just desserts. We should have faith in the judiciary.'

'Fine, Gandhi Baba, we shall see who is proved right on 15 February,' says Babloo and shivers slightly.

'Have you got a fever?' Mohan asks with concern.

'No. It is just a passing chill,' Babloo says.

'It is the winter of our discontent,' says Varshney.

Over the next two days, Babloo's behaviour becomes increasingly bizarre. He gets agitated over small things, complains frequently of nausea and blurred vision and has bouts of uncontrollable shaking. Out of the blue he starts suspecting Varshney of being an informer and warns him to keep his distance. He stops eating completely, and refuses to leave the cell. At night he curls himself up and rolls back and forth on the stone floor like a man in terrible pain.

Tirumurti is quick to diagnose the ailment. 'Babloo is having withdrawal symptoms, now that he cannot get his cocaine any longer. We must try and somehow get him his fix, otherwise he will die.'

'I don't agree,' Mohan says firmly. 'A doctor who panders to the vice of his patient degrades himself and his patient. Babloo doesn't need drugs. He needs kindness and companionship.'

'Love in the time of cholera,' opines Varshney.

Mohan's arrival at the prayer meeting the next day causes considerable commotion. He delivers a long and impressive monologue on the dangers of drug addiction, the importance of faith and the benefits of celibacy. He asks for a personal introduction from each prisoner, questioning them in detail about their personal histories and periods of detention. He seems unusually solicitous of people's health, offering several home remedies to a prisoner who has complained of colic pain. He appears to be fascinated by the library, checks out the PA system to determine whether it plays any bhajans, and at lunchtime asks the cook for goat's milk.

He starts sleeping on the floor, insists on cleaning the toilet himself and is happy to clean the toilets of others as well. He begins to keep a silent fast once a week, claiming that abstaining from speaking brings him inner peace.

A prison is fertile ground for the emergence of leaders. It contains the dregs of society, willing to cling to any hope to help endure the rigours of prison life. Gandhi Baba quickly attracts a large fan base, his chief disciple being Babloo Tiwari, who is almost cured of his addiction.

'Do you know what is the hardest thing in the world, Gandhi Baba?' he asks Mohan one evening.

'To kill a mockingbird?' Varshney offers hopefully.

'No. To awaken faith in a man who has forsaken religion. I am eternally grateful to you, Gandhi Baba, for opening my eyes to the benevolence of God.'

'So will you sing Vaishnav Janato with me at tomorrow's prayer meeting?' Mohan asks with a twinkle in his eye.

'Not only that, I am going to shave off my hair and become a vegetarian.'

'That is wonderful. Now if you would only stop your criminal activities as well…'

'Consider it done, Gandhi Baba. Babloo Tiwari the gangster is dead.'

'A farewell to arms,' Varshney quips.

Several other inmates follow Babloo's example and become vegetarian, causing prison officials to revamp the meal plan. Mohan encourages the prisoners to paint and has their paintings sold through a website set up by Tirumurti's brother-in-law. Invited to the women's prison block to deliver a talk, he persuades the women inmates to start producing snacks and savouries which are then marketed under the brand name 'Bapu's Choice'.

Newspapers write editorials on Mohan's reforms. Two British drug-pushers, Mark and Alan, become his disciples and begin collaborating on his biography. Chennai University passes a unanimous resolution recommending Mohan for the Nobel Peace Prize.

As 15 February approaches, there is only one topic of conversation in the jail – the judgment in the Vicky Rai case. The day before the verdict, Mohan is unable to sleep. He paces up and down the cell while the others snore peacefully.