He starts sleeping on the floor, insists on cleaning the toilet himself and is happy to clean the toilets of others as well. He begins to keep a silent fast once a week, claiming that abstaining from speaking brings him inner peace.
A prison is fertile ground for the emergence of leaders. It contains the dregs of society, willing to cling to any hope to help endure the rigours of prison life. Gandhi Baba quickly attracts a large fan base, his chief disciple being Babloo Tiwari, who is almost cured of his addiction.
'Do you know what is the hardest thing in the world, Gandhi Baba?' he asks Mohan one evening.
'To kill a mockingbird?' Varshney offers hopefully.
'No. To awaken faith in a man who has forsaken religion. I am eternally grateful to you, Gandhi Baba, for opening my eyes to the benevolence of God.'
'So will you sing Vaishnav Janato with me at tomorrow's prayer meeting?' Mohan asks with a twinkle in his eye.
'Not only that, I am going to shave off my hair and become a vegetarian.'
'That is wonderful. Now if you would only stop your criminal activities as well…'
'Consider it done, Gandhi Baba. Babloo Tiwari the gangster is dead.'
'A farewell to arms,' Varshney quips.
Several other inmates follow Babloo's example and become vegetarian, causing prison officials to revamp the meal plan. Mohan encourages the prisoners to paint and has their paintings sold through a website set up by Tirumurti's brother-in-law. Invited to the women's prison block to deliver a talk, he persuades the women inmates to start producing snacks and savouries which are then marketed under the brand name 'Bapu's Choice'.
Newspapers write editorials on Mohan's reforms. Two British drug-pushers, Mark and Alan, become his disciples and begin collaborating on his biography. Chennai University passes a unanimous resolution recommending Mohan for the Nobel Peace Prize.
As 15 February approaches, there is only one topic of conversation in the jail – the judgment in the Vicky Rai case. The day before the verdict, Mohan is unable to sleep. He paces up and down the cell while the others snore peacefully.
The next day, just before lunch, he leads a procession of inmates to the warden's office.
'What is all this? What are you people doing in my office?' the warden demands.
'We have come to see the circus,' Tirumurti informs him.
'What circus?'
'The trial,' says Varshney.
'Oh, so you people want to see the verdict in Vicky Rai's case? Not a problem. I was going to watch it myself.' The warden presses a button on the remote and a decrepit-looking TV sitting atop a bookcase flickers into life.
Virtually every channel is running live feeds from the courtroom in Delhi. The warden tunes to ITN and Barkha Das fills the screen, dressed in a blue salwar kameez with an olive-green photographer's vest on top.
'This will be a landmark day in the history of justice in India,' she says. 'Just as America waited with bated breath for the verdict in the O. J. Simpson case, India is waiting for the verdict in the Vicky Rai case. The courtroom behind me is packed to the rafters, but we have ITN's Shubhranshu Gupta inside, who will give us the latest. Shubhranshu, has the judge delivered his judgment?'
She bends her head and listens to the message being relayed to her ear phone, then looks up and grimaces. 'We've just received word from inside the courtroom. Vicky Rai has been acquitted for the murder of Ruby Gill.'
A hush falls over the gathering. The warden turns off the TV. 'Heard the judgment? Satisfied?' he says gruffly. 'Chalo, back to your cells now.'
Babloo Tiwari winks at Tirumurti. 'What did I tell you?'
'If he is out, why the hell are we rotting here?' Tirumurti scowls.
'That's because your father is not the Home Minister of Uttar Pradesh,' says Babloo. 'What do you think, Varshney?'
'Things fall apart,' the professor says morosely. 'Cry, the beloved country.'
Mohan feels the ground beneath him shake. He has to grip Babloo's arm to steady himself.
'What do you have to say, Gandhi Baba?' several prisoners ask him at once. He remains silent.
For three days Mohan refuses to eat, refuses to speak, refuses to go out of his cell. He lies in bed all day, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
'Eat something, Gandhi Baba. Ruby Gill will not be avenged by your fasting,' Babloo implores.
'Now there is only one way to avenge Ruby Gill,' he murmurs finally.
'And what is that?'
'Vicky Rai must die,' he says softly.
Babloo inserts a finger in his ear to clear it, thinking something must be wrong with his hearing.
'Vicky Rai must die,' Mohan repeats.
'I find it very strange, hearing this from your lips, Gandhi Baba,' Babloo says.
'But I have always maintained that where there is only a choice between cowardice and violence, I prefer violence. Far better to kill a murderer than allow him to kill again. A person who suffers injustice willingly is as guilty as the person who perpetrates the injustice. So will you do one last job for me?'
'For you I am ready to lay down my life, Gandhi Baba. Just tell me.'
'I want you to kill Vicky Rai.'
'Kill Vicky Rai?' Babloo Tiwari shakes his head slowly. 'There are many causes I am prepared to die for, but none I am prepared to kill for, Gandhi Baba.'
'Don't repeat my own line to me, Babloo.'
'It is not a line. I really believe in it. You have changed me, Bapu.'
'If you can't do it, I will have to do it myself.'
'You cannot be serious.'
'I am deadly serious. Can you teach me how to use a gun?'
'Not a problem. I'll not only teach you, I'll also get you a good gun when you finish your term and get out of Tihar. But won't your anger cool in two months' time?'
'I have no intention of remaining in Tihar till then.'
'What? Don't tell me you are planning to escape. Have you been digging a tunnel at night?'
'No. I don't need tunnels to escape. I will go out through the main gate.'
'So what's your plan, Gandhi Baba?'
'You will see, Babloo, you will see. But first I need you to convene a meeting for me with all the inmates.'
Seven days later, a massive non-cooperation movement starts in Tihar. The inmates refuse to cook, to clean, to bathe, demanding better prison conditions, just treatment and an end to extortion by jail officials.
The warden is not amused. 'What is this you have started, Mr Kumar?' he asks Mohan.
'Civil disobedience becomes a sacred duty when the State becomes lawless or corrupt,' Mohan answers.
The warden tries strong-arm tactics but the prisoners refuse to be cowed. The strike enters its tenth day. The garden begins to wilt and the bathrooms stink. Dirt gathers in the courtyard and dust gathers in the classrooms.
Urgent consultations are held between the jail authorities and their superiors. A week later, Mohan Kumar is released from Tihar prematurely. Shanti is waiting for him outside the jail with hundreds of supporters chanting 'Long Live Gandhi Baba!' He is escorted home by a joyous convoy of cars, buses and bicycles, horns blaring, bells tinkling. On reaching his house he delivers a long monologue on the imperative of fighting injustice.
A few days later, a one-eyed man comes to meet him, bearing a parcel. 'Babloo Tiwari has sent me. Can we talk in private?' the stranger asks Mohan.
They go into the garden. The one-eyed man opens the packet and takes out a gleaming pistol. 'It is a Walther PPK.32, top of the line, brand new. Same gun that James Bond uses.'
'How much?'
'Babloo Bhai said I cannot charge you for this. It is a gift from him.'
'And the bullets?'