Kobad Ghandy is moving towards window number four with the help of a walking stick. When he sees us he smiles and I notice that one of his front teeth is missing.
The window is covered by two wire meshes. One on his side. The other on ours. The distance between him and us is further enhanced by an elongated cemented channel that goes across the length of all the windows.
We have to pick up phones to speak to Kobad. I am meeting him in prison again, almost a decade after I established contact with . . .
