The peephole opens and a face looks in. I can't see clearly who it is but it is probably the guards doing their 8pm inspection as usual. The padlock unlocks with a loud clank and the door creaks open. This is new. Normally the door does not open at night. The food is always squeezed through the peephole and tonight's dinner has already been served.

I obediently stand at attention to greet my visitor - I have become military-like since the last few days. It is the camp commandant, who had visited me earlier this evening. He has a kind face and I sort of like him - my only "friend" in this God-forsaken rat hole. I am glad to see him and invite him in. He can probably see the excitement on my face.

Earlier he told me he is not one of the interrogators. It is not his job to interrogate me. His job is to look after the welfare of the detainees and ensure they are safe and in good health. He had heard I have not eaten since I came in, and he wanted to see how I was getting on.

I don't know why I did, but I had told him that today is my wedding anniversary. I think I needed a shoulder to cry on and his would have to do. I tried hard not to cry but it was impossible to hold back the tears. That's why I did not want to think or talk about it, as I knew it would upset me. He said, "Sorry", and shrugged his shoulders. He was at a loss for words. I felt he was sincere about it and maybe that's why I trust him.

"When I went home this evening, I could not forget you told me that today is your wedding anniversary. I could not sit at home and leave you all alone tonight on your wedding anniversary."

Brand new slippers

He is holding a pair of slippers. They are brand new. He takes them out of the plastic bag and places them on the floor.

"This is all I can offer you as an anniversary present. I am sorry this is all I can do for you. I cannot bring your wife here to be with you, so I brought this for you."

Slippers, as an alternative to my wife? Oh well. I put the slippers on. I have been dragged everywhere barefooted these last four days. At least now I have slippers on my feet. My tears start flowing again. I am touched. It's such a small gesture but appreciated nevertheless. In my present situation a pair of slippers is worth its weight in gold. How ironical! Here I am, under detention on my wedding anniversary, missing my wife like mad, and a pair of rubber slippers moves me to tears. When you have nothing, anything is an improvement to your life.

He places a six-pack and a cake box on my wooden bed. "Come, tonight I want you to join me."

He rips open the shrink-wrap and pulls out a packet of Ribena.

"No!" I said. "I do not want to drink anything."

"I want you to join me. I want to drink with you. I will take one. You take one also."

He hands me the Tetra Pack. I can, and will, fight back if someone is rude to me. I can also be very arrogant towards pompous people. But when someone is kind to me, I just melt. This is my weakness and he seems to know this. He knows I will not disappoint him if he is nice to me.

I reluctantly sip the drink. It burns my throat as it goes down. After four days my throat can no longer take any liquid. It feels like I am drinking acid. He opens the box. There are four pieces of cake in it.

"Which one do you want?"

"Anyone, I am not particular. Actually I cannot eat anything."

"You choose first."

I choose the Black Forest. I pinch a piece of the cake and put it in my mouth to allow it to melt. I can't swallow anything solid. I finish half the cake then push it aside. It tastes so horrible and I feel like vomiting. I am only eating to please him. My throat feels nauseated and my stomach remonstrates at the intrusion. I am not enjoying this at all.

He takes out a cigarette and offers me one. I gladly take it, my first since they arrested me. The cigarette tastes nicer than the Ribena or Black Forest. We talk for an hour. I tell him about my family and he about his. I smoke two more cigarettes, then he calls it a night. I am alone again.

Fast broken

My fast has been destroyed. They have broken my fast, not with threats or force, but by being nice to me. I lost after all. The balance of the Ribena sits there staring at me. The remaining two pieces of cake also wait to be eaten. But I will not touch them. I only ate and drank to please the kind commandant. Now that he has gone home, I need not touch them.

I lie down to think. I do not want to lose this round. I have already won this afternoon. What I just consumed tonight doesn't count. This was special circumstance - my wedding anniversary party with the commandant. I do not have to repeat this tomorrow. My fast is still valid. It has not been desecrated by what I just did.

The door swings open again. What now? Never has my door opened at night, let alone twice.

" Empat puloh dua! Keluar !" (Forty-two, get out!)

Where on earth could we be going this time of night? This is not normal. I hand out my wrists to be handcuffed and with the blindfold over my eyes walk the route that has become all too familiar by now. But this time we do not turn left or right. It is over the gravel road.

This route leads to the clinic. I remember it well from my second day's medical examination. I am right. We are seeing the doctor, but at this time of night? The blindfold and handcuffs come off and I step onto the weighing scales as instructed.

"Seventy!"

The doctor looks at my medical record. "Goodness! You were seventy-four kilos three days ago. How did you manage to lose all that weight so fast? You must tell me your secret. I too would like to lose some weight."

I look at her. She is right about that. But it's more than just "some" that she needs to lose. "Spend a few days here. That should do the trick." I feel like being cheeky tonight. It must be because of my wedding anniversary.

"They told me you are not eating. I came to see what's wrong with you."

"Look Doc, this is a Saturday night. Why are you wasting your Saturday night visiting me when you should be home with your family?"

"No, that's okay. My concern is for you."

Getting weak

The doctor checks my blood sugar. It is down to four point two. That's good. By three I should be unconscious. My blood pressure is one hundred and fifty. Three days ago it was one hundred and ten. Ha! It's getting better by the minute.

"What are you trying to do to yourself? You are getting very weak. Look at you. You are pale and shivering."

"I am trying to get out of here."

"And I'm sure you will. You just need to be patient. After all, it's only for a few days, after which you can go home."

"They told me it's for sixty days."

"No! Did they say that? The last op (short for 'operation', meaning police roundup) was only for a few days. It wasn't that long."

"I can't take that chance. I have to force them to release me."

"But you must be strong and mentally alert to fight the establishment. If you are weak you will not be able to resist them."

"Doc, you sound just like a reformasi supporter. How come you are not out there, demonstrating together with us?"

The doctor laughs. "No, I am not a reformasi supporter. I am a doctor. My job is too look after your health."

"Well, you have done your job. Now go home to your family. And don't ever come to see me on a Saturday night again."

"But you cannot go on like this."

"How long can I go on for?"

"Not long."

"Three or four days?"

"At the most."

"Okay, you tell those jailers of mine they have only three or four days with me, after which they will have to send me home in a coffin."

"You are a handsome man. This is such a waste."

"Well Doc, look on the bright side, at least I will look good in that coffin."

No counselling needed

The doctor shakes her head in disbelief. She looks at the other lady beside her. "Do you want to counsel him?"

The lady just shakes her head without saying a word.

"Let me do something for you." The doctor is still trying.

"No!"

"At least let me put you on a drip."

"Doctor! You have no right to force me. As a doctor you can just recommend. It's up to the patient whether to accept the treatment or not. You should know that."

"Yes. I know. A doctor cannot force the patient to receive the treatment. But I must try to do something for you."

"You can wait until I collapse. Once I am unconscious you can do what you want with my body. I will not know anyway."

"But it may be too late to help you. We might not be able to get you to the hospital in time."

"Well, let's see how good a doctor you are. If you are good you will be able to save me. If not - then too bad."

"But it may not be up to me."

"Then you better make a deal with God. If God is with you, you will be able to save me. If not - well - then you are not that good a doctor after all."

The doctor gives up. She knows I will not budge.

"I will see you again tomorrow night."

"I do not want to see you. Tomorrow is Sunday. Stay home with your family."

"No, I will come to see you tomorrow. I promise. And eat something. Just try to sustain yourself."

"Doc, you know I will not do that, isn't it?" I give her a seductive smile as I put the blindfold over my eyes. For sure she is not going to sleep tonight. She is going to think of me until the wee hours of the morning.

RAJA PETRA KAMARUDIN was detained for 52 days after he was arrested under the Internal Security Act in April, along with nine other reformasi activists, for allegedly seeking to overthrow the government by "militant means". His book, From Prince to Prisoner , which chronicles his experience while in police custody, will be launched on Sunday, Aug 19. Malaysiakini is publishing excerpts from his book, ending today.