The twenty-first month of my imprisonment is well on its way; the moon waxes and wanes and soon two years will have been completed. Another birthday will come round to remind me that I am getting older; my last four birthdays I have spent in prison, here and in Dehra Dun Jail and many others in the course of my previous terms of imprisonment. I have lost count of their number. During all these months I have often thoughts of writing, felt the urge to it and at the same time a reluctance. My friends took it for granted that I would write and produce another book as I had done during previous terms of imprisonment.
