Authored By: Devanshu Singh Chandel
Bundelkhand University Jhansi
The condition of undertrial prisoners in India is one of the clearest examples of how the criminal justice system often fails the very people it is supposed to protect. What makes this issue disturbing is the simple fact that undertrial prisoners are not convicts. They have not been declared guilty. They are only accused. Yet they form nearly seventy percent of India’s total prison population, which means the majority of people sitting in jails today are individuals who are legally presumed innocent. This alone should have forced serious reform long ago, but the system continues operating in a way that treats pre–trial custody like a routine step rather than an exceptional measure. As a law student who has been studying this area more closely, I realised how normalised this injustice has become and how easily we as a society ignore it.
The first problem starts with delay. Everyone knows Indian courts move slowly, but what often gets ignored is the human cost of that delay. When cases drag for years, people who have not even been tried end up spending long periods in prison. Sometimes the time they spend waiting for trial is longer than the maximum punishment for the offence they are accused of. The Supreme Court acknowledged this reality decades ago in the Hussainara Khatoon series of cases, where it exposed how thousands of poor prisoners had been locked up for years without trial. The court made it very clear that a speedy trial is a fundamental right under Article 21. But despite repeated warnings, the basic problem has not disappeared. Courtrooms are crowded, judges are overburdened, files move slowly, adjournments are granted far too easily, and nobody feels personally accountable for the suffering caused by procedural delays.
The right to liberty becomes meaningless when the process itself turns into a punishment. This is not surprising when most undertrial prisoners belong to the poorest communities. They cannot afford competent lawyers. Many do not understand the charges against them. The idea that every arrested person immediately gains access to a lawyer is more theoretical than real. Legal aid is available, but in practice legal aid lawyers carry so many cases that proper representation becomes almost impossible. The Supreme Court in Khatri v. State of Bihar stressed that the right to counsel starts from the moment of arrest, but this principle remains largely ignored. A person sitting in a courtroom not even knowing what is happening in his own case is not rare at all.
The police approach to arrest makes the situation worse. Arrest is supposed to be the last resort, but in India it is often the first reaction. People are arrested to “send a message,” to seem tough on crime, to avoid allegations of inaction, or simply because the system is used to doing things this way. In Arnesh Kumar v. State of Bihar, the Supreme Court openly criticised the police for making unnecessary arrests and violating personal liberty without justification. The court even issued directions that arrest should not be made just because it is lawful to do so. Yet, on the ground, the habit of arresting first and asking questions later continues. And once a person enters the prison as an undertrial, the possibility of coming out quickly drops sharply.
Bail is another area where theory and reality don’t match. Bail jurisprudence in India is clear. Courts have said repeatedly that bail is the rule and jail is the exception. This principle was affirmed in State of Rajasthan v. Balchand and reinforced in countless later cases. Yet the process of applying for bail, getting a hearing, and convincing the court becomes a long, complicated journey. For poor undertrials, even producing sureties or documents becomes a burden. A person might be eligible for bail, but still remain in jail simply because there is no one outside to complete the paperwork. The Supreme Court, in Satender Kumar Antil v. CBI, again stressed the need for a smoother bail process. It recognised that unnecessary arrests and strict bail conditions were directly responsible for overcrowded prisons. But the gap between judicial directions and ground–level practice remains huge.
The overcrowding itself creates another layer of injustice. Indian prisons are packed far beyond their capacity. Facilities meant for one person hold three or four. Undertrial prisoners are sometimes kept with hardened convicts, creating a high–risk environment. Health, sanitation, food quality, and access to basic services all get affected. The National Crime Records Bureau has repeatedly shown that a large portion of undertrial prisoners are between 18 and 30 years old. These are young people who may end up leaving prison more traumatised and marginalised than before, even if they are eventually acquitted. A system that is supposed to protect innocence ends up destroying lives before guilt is even considered.
Lack of coordination between police, courts, prisons, and legal aid services adds further complications. Files don’t reach on time. Orders are not executed properly. Sometimes a bail order is granted, but the prisoner remains inside because the paperwork didn’t move. There have even been cases where undertrials remained in prison for months after bail, simply because no one followed up. In one shocking incident highlighted during a Supreme Court hearing, an undertrial spent almost two extra years in jail after receiving bail because the order was never communicated properly. Such events are not exceptions; they reflect how casually human liberty is treated.
Social bias plays a role as well. Since most undertrial prisoners come from disadvantaged backgrounds, there is less public pressure to fix the problem. Media rarely covers these issues unless something extreme happens. Society tends to assume that anyone arrested must have done something wrong, which completely ignores the presumption of innocence. This mindset allows the system to continue functioning in the same outdated manner. When the affected group has no political influence or economic power, reform becomes a low priority.
There are, however, signs of progress. The Supreme Court and High Courts have been increasingly vocal about bail reforms. New guidelines have been issued, committees have been formed, and technology–driven solutions like video hearings have started reducing some delays. Some
states have begun experimenting with bail verification through digital platforms so that poverty does not become a barrier. Fast–track courts and special courts for specific offences are helping reduce the backlog in limited areas. But these are still small steps compared to the scale of the problem. Without a structural shift in how arrests are made, how cases are listed, how judges are appointed, and how legal aid is funded, the crisis of undertrial prisoners will remain deeply rooted.
From a student’s perspective, studying this issue feels uncomfortable because it exposes how the legal principles we learn in class collapse in practice. We talk about Article 21, presumption of innocence, procedural fairness, and access to justice as if they are solid guarantees. But when you read real cases and real data, you realise how fragile these guarantees are for those who lack resources. The criminal justice system works well for those who can afford lawyers, negotiate their way through procedures, and keep track of their cases. For everyone else, it becomes a maze they cannot escape. That’s why undertrial reform is not just about reducing numbers. It’s about restoring the credibility of the system.
As someone studying law at Bundelkhand University, I (Devanshu Singh Chandel) found this issue hitting harder than expected because it shows how uneven our justice system can be. It’s not enough to admire big constitutional principles from a distance. Real legal education comes from understanding where the system breaks and why. Undertrial prisoners represent the most vulnerable point in that chain. If we cannot protect those who have not even been proven guilty, then we cannot claim that our justice system is truly just.
The problem is clear and the solutions have been discussed for decades. What is missing is consistent implementation and a shift in attitude. Until that happens, Indian prisons will continue to punish people long before the courts decide whether they deserve punishment at all. And that remains one of the most serious contradictions in a democracy that promises justice, liberty, and dignity to every person.
