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"I'M
HERE TO DO MY BEST FOR THE DAY"
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Kiran Bedi has many firsts to her
credit—first woman IPS officer in India,
first woman head of Tihar, the largest
prison in Asia-Pacific, first person to
introduce
vipassana meditation inside Tihar
and turn the conventional attitude
towards crime on its head.
Winner of the 1994 Ramon Magsaysay
award, Kiran Bedi's eventful life has
already been chronicled in her biography
I Dare. It's Always Possible,
the first book written by her, shifts
focus to the now-famous Tihar
experiment. Interspersed with
little-known personal experiences from
the supercop's life, this book is
already a hot-seller. At present head of
the police training school in Delhi, the
tough-as-nails, controversial, and
crusading Kiran Bedi talks to Saurabh
Bhattacharya on herself, her view of
crime and corruption, positive thinking,
and her spiritual journey in uniform.
Your book is titled It's Always
Possible. How do you keep yourself
so positively charged?
I think it's a training of attitude. The
attitude is solidly entrenched. It has
come through upbringing, constant
awareness and conscious training. I
belong to a Peshawaria family from
Amritsar (in the northern Indian state
of Punjab) that was considered one of
the premier families of the town in
those days. It believed in simple
living, a lot of hard work, and
tremendous discipline. My parents were
conscious of the fact that excellence is
important. They never talked of average
results.
What has been your attitude to
challenges?
I have really lived from match to match.
Not to beat others, but to challenge
myself. I set my own goals. And when I'm
reaching a goal, I put it further away
to see whether I can stretch myself a
bit more. I was confident that whenever
I put in that extra effort that hurt, I
could realize that my hard work is
paying. For no work is hard work till it
hurts.
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How did you survive the innumerable controversies dotting
your career—from arresting a lawyer to your daughter's
admission to a medical college?
I don't back down from decisions that I think are legally,
morally and ethically right. The moral strength of the
decision gives me courage.
Why did you choose a career in police?
I found the police force the strongest arm of the government
to correct, to produce good results. As a young girl, I
could see policemen not performing. But I knew that if they
would perform, it would have tremendous results. For me
policing is not punitive. It always stood for social
welfare. But tough welfare. Where I could command welfare, I
could demand welfare, and I could produce welfare. And, if
necessary, I could produce welfare punitively. Policing is
not sending people to prison. Policing is to show them the
route to correction, maybe through the prison.
How did your peers in the IPS take the inclusion of a woman
in their ranks?
I had no time to observe how people were feeling. I came
from a sports background where often I was the only girl
traveling with a batch of 20 boys.
You are known for your crusade to clean up a corrupt
system. What makes you take up such an onerous
responsibility?
I'm not here to clean up the world. I'm here to do my best
for the day and extend my goals. But if I start thinking
I've only done my little bit at the end of the day and the
rest of the world remains unclean, I think I'm being
unrealistic. I must do the job in hand which I'm authorized
to do. And if I could do that well, that'll be making a
difference.
Can a person live without being corrupt?
If your needs are minimum and you are confident of meeting
your basic needs, what are you afraid of? All you need is
clean living—clean and simple food, clean clothes and a
clean shelter. And if you are happy and content in that,
then all corrupt practices become petty.
Most people bribe to get things done, like getting a
telephone line repaired or buying a train ticket. Can such
corruption be done away with?
Unfortunately, I don't come into that category because I
have not suffered that. But within my own situation, I had
other temptations, which have been kept away.
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Does
the training of a policeman brutalize him?
Training is about understanding, hard work and mental
toughness. But within all this, you can keep a sensitive
heart. But police officials do become insensitive... It's
too late in the day for them. They have offered themselves
to become habituated with their circumstances. And sometimes
circumstances have compelled them to do so. Brutality,
like a drug, is also addictive. Can there be rehabilitation
in that as well? It is possible. But it's difficult. If I
were to change people habituated to insensitive ways of
policing, I would ask them to take a minimum of three years'
leave. And I'll send them back to college. That's the only
way I can sensitize them.
Have you ever used third degree means to break a criminal?
Third degree is an act done with an element of
sadism. I've never used third degree as a
sadist. But I've been tough. Policemen have to give two
images—they mean business and they will be tough till you
cooperate. It need not be physical torture.
But it can lead to much mental agony. And causing mental
agony to a criminal is not third degree.
That's the price he's paying for having committed a crime.
What creates crime—human failing, lack of faith in self,
socio-economic factors or simply evil?
Crime is essentially human failing taking different
forms. Therefore, I don't look at a person as a sinner. I
look at the sin per se. And I know there are probable
reasons that can be corrected if related environmental
factors and mindsets are treated. That's how
vipassana became a cornerstone. A correct
mindset is essential for the person to introspect, to
realize that he didn't do the right thing.
As a mentally tough person, do you feel pity or do you
commiserate with weakness?
I feel both. I feel anger when I know that the person is not
as helpless as he claims to be. But when I know that he is a
victim of circumstances, I commiserate with his plight.
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Does man break easily or does he have it in him to fight
odds?
Depends on how he has brought himself up. He can either be
fragile or tough… But, innately… There is nothing like an
inexperienced, environmentally withdrawn and non-attitudinal
person. Each person has a set of attitudes that he has
imbibed from his environment, experience and education. We
are all the time learning and unlearning. And that's how our
reflexes are molded.
Before you introduced vipassana in Tihar, were you
yourself into this meditation?
I wasn't involved in vipassana as a technique.
But I was always an observer of myself. I am basically two
persons within. I read myself, talk to myself, study and
analyze myself. I reprimand myself and I reward myself.
Is a detached point of view essential for a person?
Absolutely. It's very important for a person to respect
one's own self. The more I respect myself, the more
motivated I become. In fact, my biggest controller and
pathfinder is myself. And the biggest cause of drifting is
also myself. I make my own choices—right or wrong.
On your first day at Tihar, you asked the inmates whether
they prayed. Why?
Prayer is something that remains internally with me.
If I have done good, I thank the Almighty and my
circumstances. If I face a challenge and don't have the
answer, I pray. When I asked the prisoners whether they
pray, I was basically asking them whether they were seeking
forgiveness and help.
How do you rate your spiritual growth over the years?
The more pain, the more agony, the more dirt I see, the more
my sensitivity grows. And this sensitivity is nothing but
spirituality. I've also become more carefree. My needs
are, over a period, getting minimized. I think that's a
growing up process.
Do you have a guru?
I am not any particular person's pupil. Books are my
teacher, there are teachers I respect in the
Ramakrishna Mission, Guru (S.N.) Goenka is a
great teacher.
Your belief in God—does it have a particular form?
My temple has all religions in it. It is the power of
spirituality that I worship, not the form. I don't have
any religion as such.
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VIPASSANA AT TIHAR
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In the early hours of the day during one of the (vipassana)
courses, a sudden storm… resulted in the top and
sides of the shamiana collapsing… All the
rugs and the cushions were drenched. The stupendous
efforts that went into 'setting the stage' were
washed out…
Goenkaji and his wife surveyed the scene, which
looked as if a rampaging mob had ransacked the
place. Both of them, however, maintained their
equanimity and they advised to continue the program
saying that everything would be all right… The
public address system transmitted the guru's
instructions to the barracks, together with the
soothing strains of music (that) succeeded in
restoring a modicum of order and normalcy. The
inmates, under the guidance of their teachers, began
to concentrate on their meditation.
After breakfast, the weather began to clear, and a
massive salvage operation was launched. A large
phalanx of inmates, including those not attending
the vipassana course, began the
daunting task of restoring the devastated site. They
carried more than 1,000 cushions outside the tent
into the sun and put them to dry; sewed together
numerous sections of torn material; reinstalled
electric wires as well as the lights and the fans;
mopped up areas with standing waters… By 7 p.m., the
shamiana was ready again. Goenkaji's
discourse was the first item on the agenda, and it
was delivered as scheduled.
As each of the ten days of the course passed by, the
transformation process was all-pervading. Within
these high walls, there was a sense of liberation.
There was discipline without fear; there was
devotion without coercion…
After the final session of meditation on April 15,
1994, the congregation comprising around 1,100
persons including the inmates, the jail staff and
some guests witnessed the momentous inauguration of
the new center in Prison No. 4, which Goenkaji named
Dhamma Tihar. On this occasion, the erudite
Guruji chanted this hymn:
All the beings of this ashram
May their misery be eradicated.
May pure Dharma arise in the minds of all
Making them pure from deep within
Making them serene from deep within.
Excerpted with permission from
It's Always Possible
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