Prisoner No. 626710 is Present review: The story of Umar Khalid’s incarceration

A PhD student in modern history at JNU, he is one of the most prominent faces of India’s student activism, described by the New York Times as “a symbol of the wide-ranging suppression of dissent under Prime Minister Narendra Modi.” Lalit Vachani’s documentary, Prisoner No. 626710 is Present (Kaidi No. 626710 Haazir Hai), which was recently screened in Delhi, is both a chronicle and a powerful lens through which the arrest and persecution of Umar Khalid is examined.

Narrated by Banojyotsna Lahiri, a researcher, lecturer, and close friend of Umar Khalid, and Shuddabrata Sengupta, a writer and political commentator, the documentary traces not just the days leading to the incarceration of Khalid and his student life, but also the machinery that has entangled him, framed him. It also provides an intimate look at the lives of young people who dared to question the people in power and paid the price for it.

“We soon identified him as the boy who relentlessly questions,” Lahiri recalls with warmth in her voice. But it is also a tale of sorrow: the boy who questioned too much, in the eyes of a government that sought to silence dissent, would eventually be demonised by a coordinated media attack, arrested, and incarcerated under draconian laws. The documentary, in a sense, holds an unsettling mirror to India’s growing intolerance toward democratic resistance.

A student of history, a victim of its making

Umar Khalid was not a stranger to the law or the spotlight before his arrest in 2020. He had been dragged into controversies several times, the most notable being in 2016 when he, alongside Kanhaiya Kumar and Anirban Bhattacharya, was accused of sedition. The controversy stemmed from an event on February 9, 2016, where outsiders allegedly shouted slogans like ‘Bharat tere tukde honge, inshallah’ (India, you will break into pieces, God willing).

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To this day, no one knows for certain who these people were, and Umar Khalid and his peers have repeatedly stated that neither they nor any students from JNU were responsible. But the damage was done. These slogans, staged by all accounts, became the focal point for a well-orchestrated media campaign that vilified Khalid and the student leaders. What followed was not just a legal battle, but a symbolic one — between a student’s right to question authority and the government’s desire to clamp down on dissent.

But the real story begins when the government, under the pretext of protecting national unity, decided to pass the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA). The act, which withholds citizenship from Muslim refugees from Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Afghanistan, was widely recognised as ‘Islamophobic’. It was to be a precursor to the creation of a National Register of Citizens (NRC), a policy that would force millions — especially Muslims — to prove their citizenship through documents, a task impossible for many.

It was in this landscape of rising authoritarianism that Umar Khalid found his voice. He went to protest sites — 70 or 80 of them, according to Banojyotsna — speaking passionately against the unjust law. He invoked the memory of Mahatma Gandhi, preaching non-violence and peaceful resistance. “Gandhiji gave us two weapons to fight this war: non-violence and peaceful resistance,” he would often say, underlining that if provoked, one must isolate those calling for violence. “Those who use violence know that they fight against Truth; those with Truth on their side will never need to use violence.”

Yet, the powers that be did not see a peaceful protestor. They saw an insurgent, a rebel —someone who dared question the government, and by extension, the very fabric of the ‘New India’ they were building. And thus, Umar was made into an example, arrested under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) in 2020, accused of being the mastermind behind the Delhi riots that claimed over 50 lives. But as the documentary painstakingly reveals, Umar’s only crime was his identity and his words. A young Muslim man who spoke against injustice in Modi’s India was marked for punishment.

The media’s courtroom: A trial by television

Vachani’s documentary spends much time examining with chilling precision how the media, especially overtly pro-government outlets, played an insidious role in constructing the image of Umar Khalid as a dangerous radical. NewsX anchor Rahul Shivshankar once branded him a ‘Jaish-e-Mohammad sympathiser’, an allegation that even the Ministry of Home Affairs and Delhi Police denied. Khalid didn’t even have a passport at the time but was accused of traveling to Pakistan twice. The absurdity was only compounded by the fact that Umar’s speeches, when actually listened to, were a clarion call for peace and democratic resistance.

Arnab Goswami, the self-styled national conscience of India on Republic TV, led his own kangaroo court. In a show, he shouted down, not letting him explain or defend himself. On national television, Khalid was labelled an anti-national, a threat to India’s sovereignty, simply because he stood in opposition to the government. Sengupta observes, “There was a concerted and well-thought-out plan to clamp down on universities, to break the spirit of questioning youth.”

And they succeeded to some extent. Cutouts of the “most loved leader” (PM Modi) loomed large across in Delhi and elsewhere, as chants of “desh ke gaddaron ko, goli maaro saalon ko” (shoot the traitors) rang out. The same slogans were repeated by the very people in power, including Anurag Thakur, a member of the ruling party. It wasn’t long before these inflammatory words found their echo in the streets of Northeast Delhi during the riots of February 2020.

From protest sites to prison

When Khalid was arrested on September 13, 2020, it marked over 1324 days of unjust detention for a young man who spoke against the government. In Vachani’s documentary, Khalid’s voice — haunting and resolute — bookends the film: “They are scaring us... But they are also scaring you. They try to silence us by putting us in prisons. But they imprison you with their lies, they try to scare you into silence.”

These words, far from being a mere reflection on his own ordeal, are a challenge. Khalid’s imprisonment, as the documentary makes clear, is not just about him. It’s about a generation of young Indians who dissent to resist the authoritarian grip of a government that increasingly conflates criticism with treason. His incarceration, like that of Sharjeel Imam, Meeran Haider, and others, is part of a larger effort to suppress Muslim voices, branding them as internal enemies.

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The UAPA under which Khalid has been charged is notorious for its draconian provisions, allowing the state to detain individuals indefinitely without a trial or bail. It’s a tool of repression, one that keeps Umar and many others locked away, while the real perpetrators of violence — the ones who shouted “goli maaro” — walk free.

Prisoner No. 626710 is Present is an emotional gut-punch. It lays bare the fraught state of India’s democracy, where voices like Umar Khalid’s are silenced, while hate speech thrives unchecked. It juxtaposes the warmth and humanity of Khalid’s words with the cold, brutal reality of his imprisonment.

In the documentary, Sengupta reflects, “I see a future in someone like Umar Khalid.” It’s a sentiment echoed by many who have seen Khalid’s relentless courage and intellect, despite everything. Even in prison, he remains a symbol of hope for those who believe in a different India — an India where questions are not stifled, where dissent is not criminalised, and where Muslims are not branded as enemies of the state for protesting unjust laws.

The price of dissent

Khalid evoked the legendary poet Faiz Ahmed Faiz in his speeches: “Lazim hai ke hum bhi dekhenge” (It is inevitable that we too shall see). Faiz’s words, born in the fires of political resistance, have found new life in Khalid’s optimism. “How many will you put in jail? How many will you shoot? How many will you beat up?” Khalid asks, knowing well that even if they silence one, a thousand more will rise.

At the time of the film’s completion, Khalid had spent over three years in prison. His ordeal, and that of others like him, tells us that there is a price one must pay for dissent in Modi’s India. As of today, Umar Khalid remains imprisoned, with his legal battles ongoing. His story is far from over, but it serves as a cautionary tale about the state of free speech in India. Vachani’s documentary shows that the fight for justice is long, often brutal, and requires immense courage. And that in times of great repression, resistance is not just necessary — it is a moral imperative.

Umar Khalid may be a prisoner, but his spirit remains free. His fight, as Prisoner No. 626710 is Present so powerfully illustrates, is not just for his own freedom, but for the soul of a nation. His voice remains unbroken. His final appeal, heard in the closing moments of the film, is not one of despair but defiance: “Do not be afraid. Make your voice strong against injustice. Fight for the release of people who are being trapped by these false cases. Fight against every injustice.”