“Punitive actions against prisoners are seen as a demonstration of administrative control”

In The Cell and the Soul: A Prison Memoir, the scholar and activist Anand Teltumbde writes about his incarceration in Taloja Central Prison. He spent 31 months in prison, as an undertrial in what is broadly termed the Bhima Koregaon case, before being released on bail in November 2022. In this excerpt from the book, he reflects on the prison’s surveillance system, its bureaucracy and various systemic failures, including suspensions of phone facilities and rejections of applications from prisoners. “Being cut off from the outside world for four weeks during the pandemic—when the entire nation was gripped by anxiety—was a harrowing experience,” he writes. “We wanted to approach the court, but how could we do so without any means of communication?”

One day during the bandi, the jail superintendent, accompanied by his deputy, came rushing to my cell. He was in civilian clothes and wearing slippers—a clear sign that something serious had happened. As he reached my cell, he thrust his cell phone towards me, speaking incoherently and demanding to know what it was about.

It took me a moment to grasp what he was referring to. The screen displayed a message from my wife that had been shared on social media. It read: Today, I spoke with Anand on a video call. The prison’s surveillance system was evidently tracking not just us but also our families. The message had instantly made its way up and down the chain of command and now had the superintendent standing in front of me, visibly alarmed. His superiors had evidently demanded an explanation for how a video call could have been made from the prison when it was strictly prohibited.

Those were the pandemic days, and communication with families was rigidly controlled. We anxiously waited for our turn, which could take anywhere from a week to two weeks—entirely due to the administration’s mismanagement. I firmly denied that I had had a video call with my wife. I suggested that my wife might have misspelled “audio” as “video” in her message. I further clarified that, in any case, we prisoners had no control over initiating calls. It was the prison staff who connected us to our registered contact numbers and handed us the phone. I suggested he inquire with his own staff if there had been any violation. After all, the staff maintained a register, and it would clearly show what type of call it was.