HE BECAME a cause clbre as 80,000 sympathisers across Hampshire and the world rallied round to protest against his plight.

Now Ian Stillman is free from the Indian prison hell which he feared would cost his life. He is back in Britain enjoying a feeling of optimism about his future that just two weeks ago was the stuff of dreams.

But the sub-continent still tugs at the 51-year-old charity worker's heart, and he dreams of one day returning.

Back in the bosom of his family in sleepy Braishfield, Ian is a different man to the drawn figure beamed to TV screens around the globe during his trial; an event branded "the worst miscarriage of justice we have dealt with" by pressure group Fair Trials Abroad.

Now he is readjusting to life after the whirlwind of activity that ended his 27-month prison hell in India.

Speaking to the Daily Echo from his sister's home, he reflects on the strange, government face-saving way he was forced to leave the country he loves.

"It's incredible, it happened so fast," he said. "There were no papers, no deportation, nothing. We don't understand what's happening.

"India has been my home for 30 years, I feel half of me is Indian. I hope I can go back because it has split my family in half with my son and me here. It is important I go back because of the family and because of the work with the deaf people."

Virtually a naturalised Indian, his wife Sue is Indian and both his children, son Lennie, 23, and daughter Anita, 20, although British, were born there and have lived there all their lives.

Ian, who is deaf, suffers from diabetes and has only one leg after a road accident, found his life upturned dramatically in August 2000 when police stopped a taxi he was travelling in through the foothills of the Himalayas and claimed to find a large amount of cannabis.

Following his sudden arrest and trial, he was sentenced to ten years, but a campaign to secure his release, won the backing of politicians across Britain and 80,000 signatures around the globe. Unexpectedly, last week the Indian government relented and released him on condition he left the country.

During his time behind bars in Kullu and then in Simla, north of Delhi, his disabilities meant he had an especially tough time coping with filth and deprivation of a cramped Indian jail.

He said: "I didn't know if I would be coming out horizontally or vertically. In December and January in the mountains last year it was unbearable. There was no glass in the windows and all the cold comes in.

"I found it very difficult to get proper medical attention. I tried to take a positive attitude. It was easy to be negative and I knew if I was negative it would affect my health.

"I think my health problems have been made worse by the conditions of the prison as well as the neglect of the medical treatment. Part of the problem is that pain is invisible. You can't see it like you can a cut on the arm, and they didn't take it seriously."

He reveals he was unable to take any exercise because authorities gave him a wheelchair with a wheel that fell off and was too small to fit through prison doors.

Ian was one of 31 people jammed into a tiny cell, but friendship for a man who doesn't speak Hindi and needs to lip-read was as rare a commodity as space.

He said: "It was so difficult to sleep. There were so many people in the room and we were lying shoulder to shoulder. If someone turned over it caused a chain reaction.

"In two years and three months, in three jails, there were three people I could have conversation with - only three."

"My wife and daughter are coming back for Christmas to be with the family. We will have time all together and then we will talk about plans and how we will manage in the future. My first priority is to get well medically."

But he can't forget his pioneering work with the deaf in India.

"In 1975 I first started working with deaf people and I thought I could help for one or two years but it has stretched for 25 years and it turned out to be my life's work," said Ian.