On a sweltering April morning, Manohar Phansekar entered a sessions court in Maharashtra’s Raigad district, bracing for a long day ahead.
His first order of business was to make sure two Adivasi men out on bail marked their presence before a judge, and to tell them about the date of their next appearance before the court. Then, at lunch, he briefed them about government training programmes for Scheduled Tribes, gently teased one of them about his marriage prospects and chided him for not having learned to read and write while he was in jail.
Shortly afterwards, Phansekar launched into the case of another man who had just been granted bail. He tried to ensure that a release memo was issued on that day itself, so that the prisoner could be released as soon as possible. In the evening, even as most of the court building emptied out, he continued working at a frantic pace.
Phansekar is neither a lawyer, nor is he legally associated with either of the cases at hand. Instead, he is part of a small but crucial community of social workers that helps underprivileged people navigate a criminal justice system that is frequently hostile and always labyrinthine.
A key challenge that social workers face is to secure the release of those who languish in jail despite bail orders in their favour, largely because they lack the financial resources to furnish bail bonds.
Phansekar’s colleague Nilesh Mohite illustrated this with a prominent case they worked on recently: A young Adivasi man who had spent six-and-a-half years in jail despite having secured a bail order. This was because there was no one who could furnish a bail bond of Rs 25,000 and a solvency certificate for him.
“His lawyer had only sought a reduction in the bail bond amount to Rs 20,000,” Mohite said. “Naturally, the judge said that if the prisoner could furnish a bond for Rs 20,000, he could furnish one for Rs 25,000 as well.”
Mohite and his colleagues then filed a fresh application on behalf of the prisoner seeking modification of the bail conditions to allow him to furnish a cash security of Rs 15,000 instead. They then referred the case to another NGO, which paid the cash on behalf of the prisoner.
“The judge in this case was very co-operative,” he said. “He stayed in court till 8 pm to pass the bail order, and even told us to come to his home later so that he could sign the release memo. But not all judges are this understanding.”
Systemic changes and gaps
On January 31, the Supreme Court took cognisance of such cases, and issued a slew of directions to address the problem of prisoners who remain in jail despite bail orders. The court directed that if an accused person is not released within a week of getting bail, the jail superintendent should inform the district legal services authority, which should, in turn, depute para legal volunteers or lawyers to help the prisoner get released.
Union Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman, while presenting the Budget for the year 2023-’24, also announced that the government will provide financial support to “poor persons who are in prisons and unable to afford the penalty or the bail amount”.
Such measures could go a long way towards reducing the amount of time prisoners spend behind bars because of their inability to fulfil bail conditions. However, these would require creating new mechanisms to provide financial support to the prisoners. Implementing these measures could also require appointing more legal aid officers and para legal volunteers to identify inmates in need of assistance.
For now, non-governmental organisations in some parts of the country are engaged in filling this gap. One such organisation is Prayas, a field action project of the Tata Institute of Social Sciences. Phansekar has been working with the project for the past five years.
“Our principle is simple – the system that we work with is a hard one, and our job is to make the interaction with the system softer for the marginalised sections of society,” Phansekar said.
Mumbai-based Global Care Foundation is another organisation that works with undertrial prisoners. Its founder and managing trustee, Abid Ahmed Kundlam, said the organisation provides cash surety, “as a matter of policy”, to undertrial prisoners who are not habitual offenders and are accused of relatively minor crimes. “The idea is to limit their stay in jail and to prevent them from turning into hardened criminals,” said Kundlam. “We try to give them a second chance.”
This focus on undertrial prisoners is much-needed: 77.1% of prisoners in Indian jails were undertrials, as of the end of 2021, according to the National Crime Records Bureau. The rehabilitation of prisoners is also an important element of the National Policy on Prison Reforms and Correctional Administration.
‘Our aim is to act as a bridge’
At Prayas’ office in Thane city, Phansekar recalled the numerous occasions when he was asked why he and his colleagues “help criminals” rather than working for the welfare of victims of crime. “In fact, on one occasion, a judge said this about us on stage at an event,” he said.
Phansekar, however, pointed out that several non-profit organisations work for victims of crime – such as survivors of domestic abuse, child sexual abuse or trafficking. “But there is also need to ensure justice for undertrial prisoners and help them deal with the system,” he said.
Phansekar said: “Our aim is to act as a bridge – at times between prisoners and their families, and at other times, between them and police officials, lawyers and prison staff.”
He recalled one such recent example of a couple, jailed on the accusation of having murdered their son-in-law, who wanted to contact their relatives in their village. But the relatives were not willing to acknowledge them and were suspicious of government officials.
“We had to camp in a nearby town for three to four days just for that case,” said Phansekar. “Police officials themselves gave us the contact of a local man, who would accompany us to the village.” Phansekar said the relatives of the couple were initially not willing to interact with the team. It was a slow and painstaking process to convince the relatives that they meant no harm. “Eventually, they [the relatives] agreed to meet the imprisoned couple,” said Phansekar.
In cases such as these, Phansekar’s colleague Mohite said it is of paramount importance to keep a cool head and speak in a gentle and reassuring manner. “Dokyala barfa ani tondala saakhar thevun kaam karaycha – you need to work with ice on your head and sugar in your mouth,” he said in Marathi.
Kundlam said that it is a major challenge to work with families of prisoners who suddenly find themselves forced to deal with the legal system. “Often, distraught relatives cry in front us and express panic, but do not know even the basic details of the case, such as the police station in which the case has been registered,” he said. “That is understandable, but it makes our job more difficult.”
Kundlam said that in such cases, social workers from his organisation go to courts and search for remand papers of the case. These documents enable them to know the police station in which the case has been filed, and the allegations against the accused person.
“In a majority of the cases, court officials are quite co-operative towards us,” he said. “In fact, now, judges themselves refer cases to us at times.”
However, in most cases, his organisation identifies people languishing in jail despite bail orders through visits to prisons.
“Prison officials also by and large understand our work and co-operate with us,” Kundlam said. “This could also be partly because we have been working for over five years now, and have built trust with the system in this duration.”
Phansekar attested to this as well. “In general, the system is characterised by a lot of negative energy, and we attempt to bring about a positive difference,” he says. “When we show results through our work, people trust us more.”
He said that most people that Prayas deals with are from the underprivileged sections of society and lack the means to secure justice. “Hardened criminals or economically well-off prisoners rarely need our help,” he said. “Most of the prisoners whom we deal with are people who don’t have money or contacts in high places. We try to help them access their rights.”
Vijay Raghavan, a professor with the Centre for Criminology and Justice at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, said that most people in custody have limited ways to move the system. “The only way for them to protect their rights is through the judge hearing their case,” said Raghavan. In such a scenario, social workers can help them write applications or file petitioners and also explain case details to lawyers, he said.
Then, there are also other complications that may arise from being prisoned. “Several prisoners might need support in dealing with addiction, or in ensuring that their children do not suffer on account of their incarceration,” said Raghavan. “They also need rehabilitation measures once they leave prisons.”
Toll on physical, mental health
While social workers may seek to act as a bridge between the criminal justice system and citizens, the stressful and unpredictable nature of the field can have wide-ranging effects on their physical and mental health.
“We have to travel for many days a month, often three to four days at a stretch,” said Phansekar. There are also times when overworked government officials vent their frustrations on workers like Phansekar. “All of this can affect us physically and mentally.”
Spending time with family is difficult, which can lead to conflict at times, said Phansekar. “In that respect, I am fortunate because my wife is also a social worker,” he said. “She understands the nature of my work and what it entails.”
Kundlam said that people outside the system at times hold negative perceptions about the nature of his organisation’s work. “Some people say that prisoners get facilities from the government through taxpayers’ money, and ask us why we work with them,” he says.
The Global Care Foundation chief said that social work in the criminal justice system is currently a “niche field” in India, as compared to other domains more traditionally associated with non-profit organisations.
Raghavan hopes this situation will change for the better. “Currently, a lot of our time and energy goes into demonstrating our relevance to authorities,” he said. “If this changes, social workers can be a pillar of the justice system – along with the police, courts, prisons and legal aid. Through dialogue and discussion, they can get the system to respond to its avowed objective of rehabilitation.”
