Umar Khalid and the Long Wait for a Trial: A System gone Insane

Some cases escape the boundaries of courtrooms and case files. They move into the moral imagination of a society and linger there, asking questions that law alone cannot answer. The continued incarceration of Sharjeel Imam and Umar Khalid is one such case—less because of its legal novelty than because of the unease it has generated, quietly and persistently, across borders. Nearly five years have passed since Khalid was arrested in September 2020. He remains in Delhi’s Tihar Jail, charged under India’s Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act in connection with the February 2020 Delhi riots. His trial has yet to begin. In that gap between accusation and adjudication—between allegation and judgment—his case has taken on a symbolic weight that neither his supporters nor the state originally set out to create.

That weight deepened further when India’s highest judicial authority, the Supreme Court of India, declined to grant bail not only to Umar Khalid but also to Sharjeel Imam, another scholar-activist incarcerated under similar charges. The denials, coming after years of pre-trial detention and without the commencement of trial, were received by civil-liberties groups with dismay. For many observers, the decisions reinforced a growing perception that extraordinary security laws have recalibrated the balance between liberty and state power—tilting it decisively toward prolonged incarceration without adjudication.

Critics argue that the judiciary’s repeated deference to the prosecution’s narrative at the bail stage—particularly under the UAPA’s “prima facie true” standard—has hollowed out the presumption of innocence. In public discourse, especially among rights advocates and sections of the diaspora, these rulings have been read not merely as legal outcomes but as political signals, suggesting an alignment—real or perceived—between prosecutorial priorities and the ideological climate shaped by the ruling establishment and its affiliates, including organizations such as the R

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The Arrest and the Allegations

Umar Khalid was not arrested for throwing stones, carrying weapons, or being present at the sites where violence erupted. The charges against him rest on a different claim: that he was part of a larger conspiracy—a premeditated plan to incite communal violence in Delhi at a moment of international attention, coinciding with the visit of then U.S. President Donald Trump. The prosecution alleges that his speeches during protests against the Citizenship Amendment Act, his participation in meetings, and his associations within activist networks formed part of an effort to destabilize the state.

These allegations are laid out in a chargesheet running into thousands of pages, supported largely by witness statements, digital records, and inferred intent. Khalid’s defense has consistently argued that his speeches explicitly called for nonviolence, that association has been mistaken for orchestration, and that no direct evidence links him to acts of violence. No weapons were recovered. No funding trail was produced. No command structure was demonstrated. What exists, instead, is a narrative of conspiracy—one that courts have not yet tested through trial.

Legally, Khalid remains an undertrial prisoner. He has not been convicted. No court has ruled that he incited violence. No evidence has been cross-examined on the merits.

The Weight of a Law

The central reason Khalid remains in jail lies less in the volume of evidence than in the nature of the law applied. Under the UAPA, bail is not decided by weighing proof but by assessing whether accusations appear prima facie true. Courts are not required to test credibility at this stage. Delay, under the statute, is permissible.

This legal architecture has turned time itself into a form of punishment—or at least into an unresolved question. With the Supreme Court’s refusal to intervene even after years of incarceration, that question has grown sharper: when delay becomes indefinite, does procedure still serve justice, or does it quietly replace it?

Beyond Guilt or Innocence

The Khalid case now sits at an uncomfortable intersection of law, politics, and time. Supporters argue that dissent is being criminalized and speech recast as conspiracy. The prosecution maintains that violence was premeditated and that national security requires caution. Between these positions lies a silence—the absence of a trial—that has grown louder with each passing year.

Democracies are not judged solely by how they punish the guilty, but by how carefully they treat the unproven. Judicial independence is not measured only by constitutional text, but by public confidence that courts can stand apart from prevailing political winds. When that confidence erodes—whether justified or not—the damage is institutional and enduring.

The unanswered question therefore remains, now sharpened by the Supreme Court’s own denials:

How long can a democracy hold its citizens on allegations alone, and still claim fidelity to justice? The answer, whenever it comes, will matter far beyond one jail cell in Delhi.