The Hindu : Jail no bar for a smashing good time

Online edition of India's National Newspaper
Thursday, Feb 12, 2004

National

National

Jail no bar for a smashing good time

By R.K. Radhakrishnan
and M.C. Raman

SETTING IT UP: Vaiko's passion for volleyball not only helped him stay fit but also made his days in the Vellore jail enjoyable. — Photo: Vino John

CHENNAI, FEB. 11. When the 58-year-old POTA detenu, a prominent figure in Tamil Nadu politics, walked up to a bunch of far younger prisoners playing volleyball on the grounds of the Vellore jail last year and said he wanted to join them, there was a round of derisive laughter. "Ah! Another politician who thinks he can play all kinds of games," was the consensus. As it turned out, it took no more than a day for the doubters to turn believers.

Meet Vaiko, the volleyball "setter" who rediscovered his passion for the popular sport of his youth during his stay in the Vellore jail. The former MP lost 6 kg during his 19-month detention in prison. This was mainly because Mr. Vaiko, an ardent sportsman, revived his old connection with volleyball and played every single day that he spent inside the prison. He was the "setter" — a crafty player who sets up the smash.

The Marumalarchi Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam general secretary had actually given up playing after he entered active politics. But 28 years after he last held a volleyball, he found the chance to do so. "I should thank the repressive Jayalalithaa regime for this chance. It was after I was arrested under POTA that I got a chance to play again," he said.

Being inside a jail is not new to Mr. Vaiko. He has been jailed 24 times so far. The last time he spent considerable time in prison was during the Emergency. He was one of the first to be picked up in the State and thrown behind bars under the provisions of the Maintenance of Internal Security Act (MISA) for a year and three days. Even then, he found "friends" to play his favourite game in the Palayamkottai jail. "I played till I was shifted to the Salem jail. In Salem, 17 of us were held in a small space. We could not even meet the other prisoners."

During the MISA detention, he was young and hence sure of his step. But this time, Mr. Vaiko, who had played for his college, was doubtful if he would be able to hold his own against prisoners less than half his age. So he watched the game from the sidelines for a few days. "I am 58. I was wondering if I would be able to play at all. But deep inside, I wanted to." Then one day, when his heart took over, he asked one of the prisoners to bring the ball to his block. "I tried my hand there and gained a bit of confidence. So I went to the court the next day."

The fellow prisoners had judged him even before he stepped into the court — a politician trying to meddle with their game. "They later told me that they had assumed I had come to spoil their game," he recalled. It took them very little time to realise they were wrong. The way he set the ball and his first few services convinced the "players" that he had played serious volleyball.

From then on, there was no looking back. There were about 40 players and Mr. Vaiko encouraged them to take to the game seriously. From just past 4 p.m. to about 5-45 p.m., it was "volleyball time." Mr. Vaiko decided that this was not enough. So, with appropriate permission he organised a tournament and divided the players into five teams. The teams were provided uniforms and names.

"I think I helped demystify their concept of politicians. The important thing is that I never spoke about my party or politics. I only spoke about literature, poetry and development. Every Saturday we organised literary gatherings, which again developed many friendships."

During his time inside, four tournaments were conducted. Mr. Vaiko's team topped the last tournament (that coincided with Pongal) and was runners-up in an earlier one.

Soon, it was time for him to leave the jail. All the players said they were happy he was leaving, but would miss him during the evening matches. Recognising the difference he made to their lives, they handcrafted a thank you plaque, signed it and presented it to Mr. Vaiko. "I was very moved. I told them that this was one souvenir I would treasure. It would always be in my room."

Mr. Vaiko is determined to continue his association with the game and has directed partymen to encourage budding players. He plans to organise a tournament in memory of his father, Vyavuri, at Kalingapatty, his hometown. "I hope that in time this tournament will become a meeting point of international talent," he said.

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