I found myself waiting in the reception area of a prison. Moments later, a policeman approached and asked to verify my ID card. I felt a wave of fear enveloping me from head to toe. As I glanced around, I noticed several police officers escorting handcuffed suspects, presumably taking them to court for their hearings.

This was my first visit to a prison in the Kingdom to meet a friend involved in a dud cheque case and serve his sentence.

The correctional officers were friendly, and the environment was surprisingly quiet, neat, and clean. After a short while, the guards would call me to inform me of the precise time and booth number for meeting my friend.

Seated against a wall, I could see my friend through a glass window, with microphones on both sides for communication.

To my surprise, my friend appeared quite content and standard. He had a new haircut, and the absence of a moustache made his face shine.

"How are you?" I blurted out but instantly regretted asking such an inappropriate question to someone behind bars, dealing with stress and despair.

"I am fine," he replied with a smile. Trying to lighten the mood, I remarked, "Now you look like Shahrukh Khan."

He laughed and shared that his blood sugar levels had improved significantly due to timely eating, sleeping, medication, and daily exercise. He mentioned that the food served in the prison was among the best he had ever had, making his time there somewhat rejuvenating.

As my friend's voice grew louder during our conversation, one of the guards gave me a stern look as if questioning the reason behind my laughter.

Glancing at my watch, I realised I had a list of tasks to attend to, such as selling some of his properties, collecting details of his receivables, and devising strategies to negotiate with his creditors.

"I can only make a few calls each week, and I have no access to the Internet. Other than that, everything is quite fine," my friend explained.

We delved into serious discussions to resolve his ongoing troubles. I refrained from trying to console him as he seemed surprisingly relaxed and comfortable.Throughout my visit, I was impressed by the facilities provided to inmates and how they were treated in a highly civilised manner.

On my way home, one thought continued to haunt me: Do we need a separate cell for people like my friend, who took risks to enhance their businesses?

Post-dated cheques (PDCs) are commonly demanded for various financial transactions, car loans, property leases, or short-term finance from institutions. By signing a PDC, we commit to fulfilling our financial obligations, even in an uncertain future. However, believing in God or not, it is undeniable that the future holds uncertainties beyond our control. Promising a 100% guarantee on such deals seems unrealistic.

When seeking a loan or financial assistance from a bank, we must abide by numerous clauses and sub-clauses. Despite this, presenting PDCs, which are negotiable instruments, is often required. Failure to honour these cheques could land a person in prison.

All businesspeople are inherently risk-takers. They play a vital role in creating jobs, boosting the economy, increasing exports, and introducing innovative products to customers. Treating businesspeople as criminals solely for not honouring a cheque would be unjust. Instead, they should be subject to a separate court and legal procedure. Rather than being sent to detention centres, they could be housed in "correction centres" with access to basic telephone and Internet connections. This approach would foster a more "business-friendly" nation, allowing creativity and innovation to flourish, ultimately raising the living standards of everyone.