RANGOON—On the road to Mandalay, the Burmese military intelligence men and their thugs kicked him, beat him, put a hood over his head and threw him into a waiting truck.

After several weeks in hiding disguised as a layman, U Sandawbartha—the Buddhist monk more famously know as U Gambira, one of the leading figures of the 2007 Saffron Revolution—was arrested on a lawn beside a petrol station near Mandalay, the second largest city in Burma, while preparing a speech urging the Burmese people to “keep fighting the military dictatorship.”

It was on Nov. 4, 2007, more than a month after the government's bloody crackdown on peacefully protesting Buddhist monks who staged Burma's largest anti-regime demonstrations in nearly two decades.

“There were around 100 of them, on motorcycles and in trucks. They blocked the road and grabbed me. Hours later, I found myself in an army camp on the outskirts of Mandalay, and all hell broke loose,” said the 33-year-old Buddhist cleric, putting a betel quid into his mouth while lying on a mat at a monastery in Thingangyun Township in Rangoon.

U Gambira was one of the 302 political prisoners set free by the nominally civilian Burmese government's latest amnesty this month, after serving more than four years of a 68-year sentence in Myaungmya Prison. He had been charged with 17 offenses, including a violation of Burma's draconian Electronics Act.

He comes from a family with a political background—his father and brother had served long prison sentences for their involvement in the 1988 nationwide pro-democracy uprising. He has also been a victim of crimes committed by Burma's military. According to the Thailand-based Assistance Association for Political Prisoners, he was forcibly recruited as a child soldier at the age of 12.

But the native of Pauk, a provincial town 75 km from Pakokku—the town in Magway Division where the Saffron Revolution first began to take shape before spreading to larger urban centers—was reluctant to talk about the bitter past. “I just want to focus on present and future,” said the monk.

He was 28 years old when he was arrested in 2007 for his active involvement in the Saffron Revolution, which was organized by Buddhist monks who took to the streets to protest a sharp rise in fuel prices that deepened the economic hardships of ordinary Burmese.

“We knew how the government would react [if we protested]. They wouldn't just lock us up in jail—they could kill us,” he explained matter-of-factly. “But we couldn't just ignore the people's suffering. That's why we monks took the lead in those 2007 peaceful protests, which the people were afraid to stage.”

In Burma, where more than 90 percent of the people are Buddhists, monks are not only highly regarded as guardians of the faith, but are also involved in many aspects of everyday life, providing spiritual guidance and pivotal social mediation. In return, monks depend on community support for their day-to-day survival. During their daily alms rounds, they can see with their own eyes just how difficult life is for the average person in Burma.

“Hardship is written all over people's faces. They are preoccupied with finding ways to make ends meet. They often apologize to us because they were unable to make offerings,” said Maggin Sayadaw, the abbot of the Maggin Monastery in Rangoon's Thingangyun Township, who was also arrested for his role in the Saffron Revolution and released on Jan. 13.

Although people's discontent with the government's economic mismanagement was deepening, they had no way to express their dissatisfaction, because they feared any attempt to protest publicly would be violently crushed by the army. “That's why we had to step in,” said Maggin Sayadaw.

This brewing collective anger finally came to a head in Pakokku on Sept. 5, 2007, when several hundred monks staged a peaceful demonstration against soaring commodity prices. Instead of listening the the monks' demands on behalf of the people, the authorities came down hard on the protesters, sparking outrage elsewhere in the country. All over Burma, in a dramatic act of excommunication, monks started refusing alms from anyone with military ties and walked barefoot through the streets chanting the Metta Sutta, the Buddha's discourse on loving-kindness. The Saffron Revolution was born.

During the revolution, U Gambira was an information officer for the All-Burma Monks Alliance, a leading organization made up of eight monks' unions. “We tried to banish the military dictatorship from Burmese soil,” he said.

But on Nov. 4, he was thrown into a 10' x 10' room at an army camp outside Mandalay to be interrogated for the next six days.

“I was bombarded with endless questions the whole day and the whole night on who we were or what we did. All the while I was handcuffed to the chair I was sitting on,” he said.

His interrogators came in groups of three: The first three were followed by three more. Then three more came. And then another three… It seemed liked it would never end, he said. Deprived of sleep for six days, he was totally exhausted by the end of his ordeal. But unlike many of his laymen counterparts, he said, he was not physically tortured.

After a long wait in solitary confinement and several court hearings, the activist monk received his sentence.

“A kangaroo court gave me 68 years in prison. I never pleaded guilty,” he said.

Even though many regarded the Saffron Revolution as a failure because it fizzled out following the government's heavy-handed response, which included firing live rounds at protesters, nighttime raids on monasteries and mass arrests, the monk had a different opinion.

“It was a success!” he boomed. “It put more international pressure on the military regime, which had to give up power because it could no longer buy time.”

But he admitted that he was disappointed that the protests were unable to force the government to apologize for mistreating the monks in Pakokku or keep soaring food prices in check. Both were among the major demands made during the Saffron Revolution. And, he added, it is a disgrace that there are still hundreds of political prisoners behind bars.

Asked if he had any message for young Burmese, he said: “Keep your political awareness alive, and don't let fear reign you.”

“You always have to know when your rights have been abused. Try to know your rights. If you know them, practice them. That's democracy,” he said.

While many people inside and outside the country have hailed Burmese President Thein Sein for his reforms, the monk was skeptical about recent changes in the country, noting that the new, nominally civilian government still has some characteristics of the former military dictatorship.

He cited the continued detention of political dissidents and the ongoing war in Kachin State as reasons for his doubts about the new administration.

“Why haven't they freed the remaining political prisoners? It sounds dishonest. And why is the war with the Kachin Independence Army still raging? Why have they left it unsolved?" he said. “In my eyes, they are just generals in suits.”

Asked what he wants people to understand about him, the monk and one-time child soldier replied: “They can think as they like.”

“I'm just doing what I need to do,” he explained. “I have been fighting non-violently for our people's rights and democracy to take root in Burma, and I will continue to try to make them flourish. If needed, I will take to the streets again.”