‘Prisoner No. 626710 is Present’: Documentary on Umar Khalid screened to mark his birthday

Lalit Vachani’s film, a chilling portrait of the battle for justice in India, documents the harrowing realities of state repression, biased media, and the misuse of draconian laws

Update: 2024-08-13 03:20 GMT
Vachani’s lens captures not just Umar’s personal ordeal, but the broader, more insidious forces at play in modern India, through the accounts of two people close to Umar — Banojyotsna Lahiri and Shuddhabrata Sengupta.

Lalit Vachani’s documentary, Prisoner No. 626710 is Present, which was streamed on Umar Khalid’s 37th birthday on August 11, plunges viewers into a world where justice seems like a distant mirage and innocence is no safeguard against incarceration. At its core, the film, which clocks in at a taut 60 minutes, chronicles the arrest and imprisonment of the student leader who was at the heart of the JNU agitation of 2016 and the anti-CAA protests of 2019, but it’s far more than a mere retelling of events. It questions a system gone awry, where truth becomes malleable in the hands of those in power.

Vachani’s lens captures not just Umar’s personal ordeal, but the broader, more insidious forces at play in modern India, through the accounts of two people close to Umar — Banojyotsna Lahiri and Shuddhabrata Sengupta. As the film unravels, viewers are confronted with the unsettling realisation that what happened to Umar, who has been in the jail for the last four years, could happen to anyone. It paints a vivid picture of a society where a biased, jingoistic media shrieks half-truths, where apathy runs deep, and where the state wields its power with alarming impunity.

The long road to justice

According to the makers, Prisoner No. 626710 is Present is an unflinching examination of state repression, the misuse of draconian laws like UAPA to silence dissent, and the pervasive Islamophobia that has become institutionalised through mainstream media. Vachani’s camera captures not just Khalid’s prolonged wait for justice, but points to a larger witch-hunt threatening the very essence of Indian democracy. 


Vachani started his filmmaking career in the 1990s, when the RSS was an ‘opposition force.’ In an online discussion after the screening of the film, he said: “The landscape has dramatically shifted since 2014. The events unfolding on campuses illustrate the Hindu nationalist forces’ intentions for our institutions. In hindsight, these attacks on academic institutions appear meticulously pre-planned.”

As viewers, we’re invited to confront uncomfortable truths about power, media, and social apathy. We feel that this isn’t just Umar’s story. It’s a wake-up call, a mirror held up to a nation grappling with its ideals. Prisoner No. 626710, a reminder of the ongoing battle to protect eroding democratic values, ends with a powerful speech by Umar Khalid, encapsulating the philosophy of nonviolent resistance. In a poignant moment, he advocates for defending against violence without resorting to violence itself and upholding the Constitution.

Banojyotsna Lahiri: ‘I deal with it alone’

In July this year, the documentary was screened at the International Documentary and Short Film Festival of Kerala (IDSFFK). Banojyotsna Lahiri, who was present to introduce the film, noted that the festival offered a platform that supports progressive values, serving as a crucial starting point for the documentary’s mission to challenge and reshape the mainstream Hindu perception of marginalised communities.

Incidentally, I have known Lahiri since 2007, when she was a student at JNU. I remember seeing her address student gatherings during the Singur-Nandigram unrest and subsequent political developments in West Bengal. Later, we connected on social media, but our interactions were limited to football discussions, particularly as fellow Culers. We’d analyse Lionel Messi’s performances or Barca’s strategies in detail, never touching on Umar or politics. It wasn’t until the film screening in Thiruvananthapuram that we finally met and spoke in person. I asked her how she copes with her situation. Her response was revealing: “Barcelona helps... it’s a happy distraction, a sort of catharsis. Look, I need to cope with it, but I also need to support other friends. At the end of the day, though, I deal with it alone.” 
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