New Delhi:  “I will not come out alive if I am jailed again.” 

That is what Binayak Sen, 75, says in “The Feared”, a new book by Mumbai-based journalist Neeta Kolhatkar, chronicling the experiences of 11 Indian political prisoner. A medical doctor arrested in 2007 while working in the Adivasi lands of Chhattisgarh, Sen was convicted of sedition in 2010 before being granted bail in 2011.

At one time, a police officer told prison staff that they should cooperate with the prosecution in securing a conviction against Sen. The ones who would not,  “faced harassment and informal punishment”, Sen tells Kolhatkar in the book, published by Yoda Press with Simon and Schuster. 

In “The Feared”, Kolhtatkar pulls back the curtain on a world rarely seen: the lives of civil rights activists branded as enemies of the State. She describes such people as “prisoners of conscience”, distinguishing them from activists “postured by political parties”, such as Anna Hazare, whose activism, she adds, was on behalf of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). 

“In such an environment, where intolerance to any criticism is growing, and they face imprisonment for trying to educate and inform the public, prisoners of conscience seemed the proper term,” said Kolhatkar in an interview to Article 14.

These women and men are lawyers, scholars, doctors, journalists and grassroots organisers who challenged the interests of powerful politicians and companies, usually working amongst and on behalf of disadvantaged communities.

“There are criminals and petty offenders, and then there are conscience keepers,”  said Kolhatkar. “They could be any citizen who has… tried to awaken the conscience of the general public.”

These prisoners, said Kolhatkar, had “questioned certain policies, rules, laws, actions or wrongdoing of the government or person in power, and wanted the public to understand the problem and act upon it, hopefully collectively”. 

“This may lead to mass protests, campaigns and eventually some action to better the situation,” she said. “In some cases, it could lead to the toppling of a government.” 

Among the prisoners Kolhatkar interviewed were lawyer Sudha Bhardawaj, management professor and writer Anand Teltumbde, Sen, scholar Sanjay Raut, journalist Kishorechandra Wangkhem, and communist organiser Kobad Ghandy. Through extensive interviews with them and their families, she writes of life in Indian jails: overcrowded spaces, poor hygiene, inadequate medical care, and substandard food. 

Gaining access to them, either in prison or at home after release on bail was not too difficult, said Kolhatkar, who ran into many of them during her 15 years as a court reporter.

“Most of us only hear of these names through reports based on police information or police leaks,” said Kolhatkar. “The imprisoned person, their true persona and the struggles of their families are rarely known to the world.  I wanted the world to know the work they have been doing and their struggles.”

India has more than 430,000 undertrials, about three-fourths of the prison population, according to 2022 data, the latest available. More than 11,000 have been undertrials for over five years, all of them stuck in jail before being convicted of any crime. Many are activists and dissenters swept up in what critics have said (here and here) is a systematic attempt to silence opposition to governments, union and state.

"The first night in jail is reputed to be the hardest,” writes Kolhatkar. “After that, you learn how to survive, though many prisoners carry lifelong scars.” 

 What makes “The Feared” one of the most important and under-rated non-fiction books is how it challenges our preconceptions about incarceration. The book arrives at a time when questions swirl about civil rights, prison reforms and State power being used to silence political opposition.

Kolhatkar talks about her book, her journalism, the lives of these political prisoners, the effects of incarceration on their mental and physical health, their resilience, unexpected friendships, and the survival strategies they employ. 

Edited excerpts:

"The Feared" takes us into the lives of India’s political prisoners. Why did you write it? How did you navigate access to these individuals?

I have covered courts for most of my career as a journalist. From the beginning, I wanted to focus on these political prisoners. Most of us only hear of these names through reports based on police information or police leaks. The imprisoned person, their true persona and the struggles of their families are rarely known to the world.  I wanted the world to know the work they have been doing and their struggles. There are still so many more stories about these people that are yet to be told. 

This is not the first time I have interviewed those activists imprisoned or their family members. It wasn't tough to access them as many of them knew me or my work. The timing too worked in my favour. They all had a lot to share.

You use the term "prisoners of conscience" in your book. Can you break down what that means in India's context, and who falls into this category?

There are criminals and petty offenders, and then there are conscience keepers. They could be any citizen who has in her/his way tried to awaken the conscience of the general public. They are the ones who have questioned certain policies, rules, laws, actions or wrongdoing of the government or person in power, and want the public to understand the problem and act upon it, hopefully collectively. This may lead to mass protests, campaigns and eventually some action to better the situation. In some cases, it could lead to the toppling of a government. 

Here, I want to distinguish between prisoners of conscience and an activist postured by political parties. If you recollect, the BJP-led government came into power in 2014 after they used the issue of corruption—a well-planned campaign against the UPA (United Progressive Alliance, led by the Congress party) government, they called India Against Corruption. They claimed through Anna, that the conscience of the Indian people was awakened. Except in that case, Anna Hazare was postured as the 'campaigner against corruption' while he admitted publicly that he supported the BJP and was against the Congress. In that way, he is not the same as the farmers who went on to protest against the agricultural bills, or people behind the Shaheen Bagh protests, the protests by the students at TISS [the Tata Institute of Social Sciences] or Jamia [Milia Islamia university], or the Bhima-Koregaon protests.

In these times, we have seen cartoonists, journalists, activists and even opposition politicians being arrested. In such an environment where intolerance to any criticism is growing and they face imprisonment for trying to educate and inform the public, prisoners of conscience seemed the proper term.

What is the effect of their incarceration on the children of these political prisoners? In what ways does it affect relationships between partners?

Every relationship of these prisoners is impacted by their incarceration. The spouses have to undergo much hardship to just get a glimpse for a few minutes and listen to the voices of their loved ones. There is no physical contact, the love and warmth that one needs from their spouse are denied. The ones inside go through loneliness and depression. There is a lot of pressure on them inside the jail and when released, to go back to normal life. In most cases, the loved ones have stood firmly by their partners, but there was a loss of normal family life. 

These incarcerations have taken a toll on the children too. In his interview, Dr Binayak Sen shares how he feels bad for not being around for his daughters. He believes they could have had better opportunities, had he not gone to jail. Pranhita and Aparajita, his daughters, say even in important moments in their lives, they missed having their father around. Sudha Bhardwaj now wants to be able to dedicate quality time to her daughter and move cities to be close to her. Anand Teltumbde shared that news of his incarceration impacted his daughter's job prospects.

Letters emerge as a crucial lifeline in your book. What kind of surveillance do these letters face?

In modern times, it is still the old trusted letter that connects the person living behind bars to the world outside. In jails, even basic fundamental rights are denied to most, while the privileged get away with a lot more. While many political prisoners are put through severe surveillance, ironically, criminals who are convicts and members of underworld gangs, use cell phones and other forms of communication. They are not feared by those in power, unlike the prisoners of conscience. 

Amidst all this, the single ray of hope for them [is] the letter. There is a special anti-Naxal unit in Maharashtra where all the letters are sent. They are scanned and only if the authorities agree, forwarded either to the prisoner or their family members/lawyers, that too after weeks or months. Letters are also a form of strong legal weapon in the absence of other forms of communication for these political prisoners. 

Dr Binayak Sen said he received hundreds of letters, especially demanding his release. Many educational institutions had undertaken the task of sending him letters of solidarity. He read every letter, which of course had undergone scrutiny.

Anand Teltumbde was arrested on (Babasaheb) Ambedkar’s birthday. How does the state use symbolism and timing in these arrests, and what message is being sent?

Anand was arrested on Dr Ambedkar's birthday. That led to conflict within the Dalit community. They were made to believe Anand chose to personally surrender on that day, while it was the State that gave him a deadline. The State always tried to appropriate figures like Gandhi and Dr Ambedkar as a well-thought-out political strategy. Moreover, it wants to systematically dissect every individual or authority respected in civil society. Any personalities or commemorative dates held in high esteem by any community or people are lowered in stature. The message is loud and clear, nobody against them will be spared.

What is the relationship between these political prisoners and the cops/prison staff? What about the complex network of informants in the prisons?

Most of the interviewees have shared how police are always aware of political prisoners. Police officers and prison guards respect them, but they are eventually part of the system, where loyalty to their bosses and political heads is integral. As a result, while the lower-ranked staff may develop a rapport with the political prisoners and interact with them, they will continue to deny certain facilities and rights to these prisoners. They do not treat other hardened criminals in the same manner. Most of the political prisoners have had to move the courts to get some basic facilities. 

As for informants, they are known to pass on messages from within and even during their appearances in court. They enjoy a privileged life, while the political prisoners have to meet their loved ones, lawyers or people under intense police gaze. Interestingly, due to the intense media scrutiny of these political prisoners, the criminals too seem to be wary of interacting with them.

When Covid-19 hit, political prisoners faced unique challenges. How did the pandemic transform their life behind bars?

These interviews have been an eye-opener for conditions in prisons during Covid-19. They were disallowed all contact with their families. The family members had to move the courts for something as basic as wanting to know the condition of their loved ones inside the jails.  Their family members were on tenterhooks, spending sleepless nights wondering whether the prisoners were alive at all. It also took a heavy toll on the mental and emotional health of the prisoners who went through these harrowing experiences alone.

In Covid-19, most political prisoners were afraid to fall ill in jail. They knew they’d be left to die and not given any medical aid. However, to fall ill is not in one's hands especially when the hygiene conditions in the prisons are pathetic. At a time the rest of the society was busy drooling over sourdough recipes, every day was a living nightmare for the political prisoners and their families. 

At 84, Father Stan Swamy was the oldest person ever to be accused of terrorism in India and eventually died in prison. What does Swamy’s case tell us about medical care in Indian prisons?

Father Stan Swamy was killed by the system. The judiciary failed him too. The prison authorities denied him all medical aid. Those who have money and political clout are spared of such injustice. In fact, maintaining good physical and mental health inside a prison is a huge challenge. Many political prisoners have health issues and have raised concerns with the courts for basic things, like medical tests, medicines and diet. But none of this comes without putting up a fight. Even though the prison journal states there should be a doctor visiting the prison, it rarely happens. Even when it happens, they never give an honest diagnosis.

In reporting this book, did you find evidence that these incarcerations are fundamentally about controlling dissenting viewpoints? 

Every government since independence seems to be following the colonial legacy of controlling dissent. Draconian laws have been implemented, amended and used against citizens for any dissidence. The opponents or dissenters are seen as a threat to the nation. The State wants to control these people because they hold sway over the opinions of a large number of people.

After authorities term them enemies of the State, they are isolated and put away from other undertrials and prisoners. They are denied many facilities that are fundamental rights extended in jail. They are denied books to read, especially in English or Hindi. Often the number of books is rationed so that these prisoners do not read a lot when in prison. They are often disallowed to write, for which the prisoners have to get sanction from the courts. There is no doubt the State looks at dissenters as a threat to society and their fear drives them to curtail every right of these prisoners. 

Does the prison system actively try to criminalise non-criminalised, civilised prisoners? In that case, what survival strategies do political prisoners develop? 

The Indian prison system hardens criminals. Most political prisoners have a grassroots base and an ideology aimed to fight for justice in a democratic system. Their work inspires them to work against injustices inside the prisons too. They interact with other jail inmates, understand their problems, help the underprivileged with their case dates, provide legal aid, and listen to them patiently. They educate other inmates too.

The survival skills of these political prisoners are great. They are educated and use their knowledge for the good of others. They continue with that same commitment inside the prisons. They move courts, learn new languages inside and teach it to other prisoners. They read books and write daily. They continue with their lives as they would have done in their work area. I believe, prisons not only try to harden you, they also try to break these people completely—physically, mentally and emotionally.

(Zeyad Masroor Khan is a freelance journalist and author of City on Fire: A Boyhood in Aligarh.)

Get exclusive access to new databases, expert analyses, weekly newsletters, book excerpts and new ideas on democracy, law and society in India. Subscribe to Article 14.