Dissent’s Descent: A review of 'Prisoner 626710 Is Present'

13th September marked six years of Dr. Umar Khalid’s detention in Tihar Jail under the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, where he still awaits the commencement of his trial. In solidarity with the activist, the United Students Front screened Prisoner 626710 Is Present to a packed AC03-003 on the 17th. The screening came amid recent tensions over the university’s handling of progressive student activity, making each delay in starting the film a source of suspicion among those waiting.The anxious pitter-patter of feet being incessantly shaken filled the otherwise silent hall, with people restlessly watching as Dr. Khalid’s final recording prior to his arrest appeared at last. This comes after the students of NLSIU, Bangalore were forced into cancellation of their planned screening by right-wing groups like the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), while another presentation at IIIT Hyderabad was flagged by the CBFC (Central Board of Film Certification). Allegations were even levelled against the Mumbai Police by activists in Bombay, for pressuring venue managers into withdrawing permits for the film’s screening. So, the anticipation of the audience seemed to ask only one question: What has director Lalit Vachani packed within 60 minutes that has sent these institutions scrambling to obscure any speck of Prisoner 626710? 

Portraying a strikingly similar situation with the post-2014 establishment working frantically to demonise Dr. Khalid, the film’s argument is only amplified through its reception. His relentless struggle against the BJP-RSS regime following its rise to power is shown to have formed fertile ground for his later persecution by the media industrial-complex. Piercing through the quiet fostered by Dr. Khalid’s words from nearly a decade ago were echoes of desk-thumping and warm cheers from the audience, displaying the timeless resonance of his struggle.

Such a man poses an unmissable threat to the ruling party’s preferred pigeonholing of India’s Muslim population, as the film thus traces the beginnings of his identity being used against him and his family.

Through usage of Khalid’s own speeches, archival footage, alongside sentimental narration from Dr. Khalid’s partner, Banojyotsna Lahiri, and longtime friend Shuddhabrata Sengupta, Vachani traces the long-term construction of a narrative by the media intended to vilify Khalid in the public’s eyes. As the interviews with his loved ones anchor the audience, they are shown not the ‘anti-national’, nor the ‘darling of resistance’, but the loving partner, son and colleague locked away during his most precious and productive years. 

The film takes the viewer through a guided tour of Lahiri’s photo album containing pictures predating the accused’s arrest, invoking pathos as we hear anecdotes from the years before his rise to fame and eventual defamation. Beyond merely debunking the allegations of coordinating the 2020 Delhi riots that have incapacitated the man from speaking out against the government, the film dwells on the damaging effects of incessant media coverage on the lives of ordinary people. Its careful treatment of Dr. Khalid’s loved ones and their prudent navigation through a sudden elevation to the national stage involves concentration on their personal accounts, thus handling them as more than just side-characters in the activist’s journey.

Contentious moments from mainstream news channels’ primetime ‘debates’, often resembling unilateral scoldings more than real dialogue, are clipped for display. The satire is not lost on viewers: the man who repeatedly emphasised devotion to the nation’s people and respect to its symbols is declared an ‘agent of Pakistan’ and a ‘terrorist’. 

Indeed, at the screening itself the allegations being levelled by news anchors were met with bursts of laughter from the audience, punctuated by occasional choruses of bafflement. Arnab Goswami’s attempts to hound Dr. Khalid for answers, even as his mic was deliberately cut off on live television, left the hall in stitches. The laughter does not make the film any less disturbing; if anything, it exposes the absurdity of the spectacle that the film invites its audience to examine. Such absurdity takes center stage again, when the film notes that only Muslim activists remain detained in connection with the UAPA case. This same upkeep of enthusiasm, especially in a political climate that proscribes dissent, is the kind of hope that the documentary aspires to inspire. Notes such as the piles of books read by Dr. Khalid during his long tenure at Tihar, complemented by the reading list Sengupta mentions he had aimed to assemble with the activist just days prior to his detention, cement the spirit that survives this bleak period in one’s life. Against this backdrop, hope appears in the film as the utilisation of the absurd to resist the senseless. 

By bringing together perspectives from across Dr. Khalid’s life, the film moves beyond the political symbol his name has become, only to forge a new, intimate retelling of the man through those who know him best, Prisoner 626710 delivers an uncompromising portrait of the activist. The film’s refusal to sensationalise makes for cuts to news broadcasts condemning Dr. Khalid to be humorous yet jarring, revealing the almost cartoonish nature of the current media landscape. Its treatment of dissent and its consequences felt particularly significant in the existing media climate, given the atmosphere of protest gaining steam across the country. At Ashoka, where the question of whether the film would even make it to the screen had lingered throughout the evening, its message felt all the more immediate. Now more than ever, and despite everything, Prisoner 626710 is still present.

(Edited by Aishani Misra and Maya Ribeiro.)