Having just passed his matriculation exams, he was leading a happy and carefree life with his family in Bahrain (Swat, Pakistan). Then suddenly his life took an unexpected turn when he was arrested on suspicion of murder, falsely accused and tortured by the police into signing a confession for a crime he did not commit, sentenced to death by the local magistrate, and thrown into the dark dungeons of the death cell to await execution. This is the real-life nightmare that young Sohail Fida had to endure at an age when most boys are worried about hairstyles and acne.
This harrowing ordeal might have crushed the spirits of an ordinary young man or may even have caused for him to rebel. However one thing that Sohail was not, was ordinary spirited. He dug deep down to find the strength and resilience from within to pursue his fathers dream of education and change all negative into positive. He passed his Intermediate exams, then his Bachelors and finally Masters in History, while being on death row.
His belief in his innocence and in the justice system was uncrushable. Surely enough after spending seven years on death row, his death sentence was commuted into life sentence. Sohail went on to do two more Masters in International Relations (for which he secured 7th position in Pakistan) and in English. Today he mentors in Haripur Central Prison in Hazara, where he awaits his release in 2012.
The cells remain locked for twenty two hours of the day. They are opened twice for one hour, once in the morning and once in the evening to let the inmates have a walk. The inmates on death row are not allowed to go beyond the confines of the sector, and take the walk in the small ground with handcuffs tied on both hands. From then on I lost track of time and like the rest of the inmates, my life revolved around waiting for the time of our walk. The cell of a prisoner condemned to death is 12 ft (length) 8 ft (width). The front part, which is about 6 ft long, forms the living area that the three of us shared. The back portion is divided into two parts; one part has a commode and bucket of water and serves as the toilet and the bathroom. The other part serves as a kitchen.
After we had spent a week in Haripur prison, my father came for a visit along with my mother. They sat on an old bed sheet across the three feet wide gate of the cell. Mother started crying and stopped only when my father told her not to make life more difficult for me. I could not bear seeing my mother sitting on the floor and wanted to tell her not to visit again, but did not have the heart to do so.
