In Sangaria, migrants can find work but not security

Sangaria, Hanumangarh: Sangaria, a town of around 40,000 people in Rajasthan's Hanumangarh district, has neither large factories nor a strong formal employment structure. Yet it has become a destination for migrant workers from different states. Among them are fruit and vegetable vendors, cart pullers, dhaba workers, taxi drivers, agricultural market labourers, daily-wage workers, and small entrepreneurs. They are not native residents, but for decades they have been part of the town's economy and social life. Around 3,000 migrants from Punjab, Haryana, West Bengal, Jharkhand, Uttar Pradesh, and Bihar work in Sangaria, with the largest numbers coming from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. Ramkaran Gupta (65) is originally from Kalwari Thana in Basti district, Uttar Pradesh. He came to Sangaria about 44 years ago for what was supposed to be a short visit, but ended up making it his home. “I had come here to visit my uncle. I liked the people and the environment, so I stayed,” said Gupta.  Initially, he sold the popular children's sweet known as "Bombay ki Mithai" while moving through neighbourhood lanes. Later, he started selling popcorn and bhelpuri, and that remains the basis of his livelihood even today. After marriage, he brought his wife to Sangaria. All three of their children were born here. Around 26 years ago, he built his own house. His son now works for a company in Delhi, while both daughters studied through college and are married. "When my parents were alive, I used to visit my village. Now Sangaria itself is my village. My ration card, Aadhaar card, and domicile certificate are all from here," he said. Ramkaran Gupta selling bhelpuri in Sangaria (Photo – Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) The invisible network Most people arriving in Sangaria do not come with a fixed job. They do not move because of advertisements, companies, or government schemes. Often, they arrive with just one connection, a relative, someone from their village, or an old acquaintance. This “invisible network” quietly keeps the town's economy running. It may not be visible in Sangaria's streets, but it can be felt in how one person arrives, calls another, and gradually these chains of relationships create pathways to work, housing, and market access. Deepu Pal (27) sells fruits and vegetables on the roadside. He owns a house and lives with his wife and two children, but his story begins with his father. Pal is from Shahidabad village in Mainpuri district, Uttar Pradesh. He said his father came to Sangaria from the village nearly 40 years ago, travelling about 800 kilometres. “One of my father's acquaintances was already working here. At his suggestion, he came and started working as a labourer in the vegetable market. Twelve years ago, after passing Class 10, I started selling vegetables. The business runs well enough, and it supports my family,” said Pal. Limited options Ankit Yadav (30) is from Hakikatpur village in Farrukhabad district, Uttar Pradesh. He came to Sangaria around three years ago. "We are four brothers. Our family owns only two bighas of land — it was not enough to survive on. There was no work in the village, whereas there is always some work available in Sangaria. A friend told me opportunities were better here, so I came," he said. These days, he sells watermelons. As the seasons change, the fruits change — and so does the nature of his work. Earnings are reasonably good, he says, and he manages to send some money home. A local resident has even provided him a place to stay free of charge. Ankit Yadav selling watermelons in Sangaria (Photo – Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) Ratnesh Kumar (31) travelled nearly 1,400 kilometres from Sadullahpur village in Muzaffarpur district, Bihar, to Sangaria. His brother had first worked as a cook in Jaipur before moving to Sangaria and taking up driving, then called Ratnesh to join him. "I had learned tyre servicing while living in Delhi. My brother told me work was good here, so I came too," said Kumar. Today, he runs a tyre shop in the town. He later brought his father as well, got married, and now has a child. "Life is going well for the family now," he said. Ratnesh Kumar changing a car tyre at his shop in Sangaria (Photo – Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) A sense of belonging Jayprakash Sharma (48) is from Dhanora village in Jhansi district, Uttar Pradesh. Twenty-two years ago, he moved to Sangat Mandi in Punjab, but things did not work out there. On a relative's advice, he shifted to Sangaria and started a fast-food business. "Gradually, people became my regular customers. Once the business picked up, I brought my wife Aarti here too," he said. "Today I have my own house, and my two daughters are studying in school." His wife Aarti said, "We are happy here. Local people are good. During festivals, everyone participates together."  Sharma believes the social structure of small towns is different. "In a big city, a person gets lost in the crowd. Here, people begin to recognise you. Relationships with shopkeepers, customers, and landlords develop quickly," he said  But not every story is equally stable. Those who have managed to establish their own businesses are relatively better off. The experience of daily-wage workers, market loaders and unloaders, and those dependent on temporary jobs is quite different. Former chairman of the Rajasthan Economic Council, Santosh Rajpurohit, said: "Small towns do not have the visible structures of large factories or government jobs. Instead, an invisible network keeps the market functioning. Vegetable vendors, dhaba workers, taxi drivers, daily-wage labourers, and people connected to markets and agriculture sustain everyday life." However, he added that this system has limits. "It provides work, but not permanent security. Most jobs operate on trust and verbal agreements. Earnings fluctuate. There is no insurance, no pension, and no guaranteed support. The economy is alive, but insecurity is built into it. If someone falls ill or the market slows down, the impact is felt not only by the worker but by the entire family." Ajay Kumar, a migrant worker from Uttar Pradesh, puts it simply. "Sometimes there is no work available. And if we fall sick, we lose our daily wages," he said. The limitations Rameshwar Verma, state sub-committee in-charge of CITU, said that while the economies of small towns depend heavily on informal labour, workers do not enjoy equal conditions. "Towns like Sangaria show that India's economy is not driven only by metropolitan cities. Small markets, agricultural mandis, dhabas, and informal labour-based towns provide work to thousands of people. However, many migrant workers involved in loading and unloading receive lower wages than local labourers," he said. Verma also raised concerns about housing. Most migrants in small towns are forced to share cramped rooms with several others. Despite repeated demands, governments have not built dedicated housing colonies for them. Basic services such as healthcare, housing, education, and labour rights remain weak. "As a result, the system provides work, but the promise of a dignified and secure life remains incomplete," he said. Wholesale vegetable trader Omprakash Midha noted that migrants have helped ensure an adequate labour supply in the town, while local residents earn rental income by providing them accommodation. Cover Image - Deepu Pal selling fruits and vegetables in Sangaria (Photo – Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)

How growing temple construction and technology are transforming a small town

Once known mainly for sandstone cutting, Bayana is emerging as a major hub for temple stonework as machines accelerate production and transform local livelihoods. Bharatpur, Rajasthan: The small town of Bayana in Rajasthan’s Bharatpur district was for a long time a limited but important center for the stone business. The work there mainly involved sandstone slab cutting. Local traders would cut the stones and sell them. For carving, engraving, and fine detailing, the stones were sent to towns such as Bhusawar, Shri Mahavir Ji, and Hindaun City, where traditional artisans spent months handcrafting floral patterns, images of deities, and other motifs onto them. The finished stones were then transported to temple construction sites across different states. But over the past few years, this picture has changed rapidly. Demand for carved stones surged with projects ranging from the Shri Ram Janmabhoomi Temple in Ayodhya to temples being built in India and abroad by the Bochasanwasi Shri Akshar Purushottam Swaminarayan Sanstha. Large orders also began coming from Jain temples in Madhya Pradesh and from South India. Today, according to factory owner Manoj Patel, seventy to eighty percent of all orders received by Bayana's stone industry are linked to temple construction. The remaining orders come from government infrastructure projects and private home construction. This surge created a challenge for local stone traders, it became difficult to fulfill large, fast-paced orders through traditional methods alone. "The stone used to be cut here and then sent to other villages and towns. Large orders started taking too much time. If we had not installed machines, we would have been pushed out of the market,” said Nemichand Sharma, stone trader.  A view of stone cutting at an industrial unit in Bayana. (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) The CNC revolution This is when CNC (Computer Numerical Control) machines rapidly entered Bayana. Around 2018, a few factories installed CNC machines for the first time, beginning with just five to seven machines. After 2021, their expansion accelerated sharply, and the highest number of machines has been installed in the last one and a half years. Today, more than 300 CNC machines are operating across Bayana's 250 factories. Smaller factories have four to five machines, while larger units have as many as ten to twelve. Sharma said the cost of a CNC machine ranges from Rs 15 lakh to Rs 50 lakh, with some machines available at up to Rs 3 crore, though such expensive models have not yet arrived in Bayana. One reason for this rapid spread has been the changing economics of the machines themselves. Until a few years ago, CNC machines mainly came from China and were very expensive, putting them out of reach for smaller traders. But in recent years, domestic manufacturing of CNC machines has grown within India, bringing prices down and improving availability. As demand for machine-based work grew at the local level, so did the manufacturing ecosystem around it, making access to technology easier for industries in smaller towns. CNC machines have transformed the way work is done in Bayana. Designs are fed into a computer, and a diamond-tipped tool engraves the exact pattern onto the stone with precision. Work that earlier took artisans several days or even weeks can now be completed within hours. Factory owner Manoj Patel explains that different machines serve different purposes: gang saw machines prepare thin slabs; splitting machines handle thicker ones. CNC machines, meanwhile, produce gateways, figures of deities, door frames, doors, idols, small temples, fountains, lattice screens, jharokhas, and decorative items. "Earlier, this business was worth crores of rupees. Now it has grown into a multi-billion rupee industry. The government earns crores in revenue from here,” said Dinesh Soopa, President, Bayana RIICO Industries Association.  An operator carving stone on a CNC machine at an industrial unit in Bayana. (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) New livelihoods, new skills Every CNC machine requires at least one trained operator, and most operators are local young men who learned their trade on the factory floor, no engineering degree required. Young people receive local, hands-on training within six months to a year. Nemichand Sharma says machine operators initially earn salaries of Rs 10,000 to Rs 15,000 a month. With experience, salaries rise to Rs 15,000-20,000, and skilled operators are now earning between Rs 35,000 and Rs 50,000. Satyavan Gurjar (22) from Sikandra village near Bayana studied until Class 12 and then spent a few months with a relative learning CNC operation. Three years ago, he joined a factory at Rs 10,000 a month. He now earns Rs 18,000. "My father worked as a laborer," Gurjar said. "The family struggled to survive, but our condition has improved now." Rammoorti (24), a resident of Bayana, passed Class 10 and initially worked as a laborer. He learned CNC operation on the job within a year and began earning Rs 20,000 a month — now Rs 30,000 after three years. Bunty Gurjar (26) from Palidang village dropped out during the second year of his BA and started as a factory helper. "There I learned to operate CNC machines," he says. "After that, I started earning Rs 15,000. Now I work in another factory for Rs 22,000 a month." Dharm Singh Chaudhary (27), a resident of Bayana, now earns Rs 20,000 in a factory. He said most operators come from Bayana and nearby villages. "Earlier, they either had no stable work or survived through daily wage labor. But with the increase in temple-related work, new opportunities have opened up." Operating a CNC machine involves loading a design into a computer, setting the stone and diamond-tipped cutting tool, then monitoring the machine while it runs, watching for clean cuts, checking that tools do not break, and ensuring nothing malfunctions. The work is skilled but learnable. It does, however, carry real risks: silica dust from stone cutting can damage the lungs; stone particles can injure the eyes; and the combination of electricity and water creates a risk of electric shock. Safety precautions such as protective eyewear, dust masks, and maintaining a safe distance from the machine during operation are essential, but are not always consistently followed. A young man sharing details at a stone-cutting factory in Bayana. (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) A town transformed This transformation extends well beyond factory floors. In Bayana's RIICO industrial area, large-scale production is now underway across 250 factories. Factory owner Desraj Gurjar said Bayana is no longer just a town that sells stone, it has become a center that exports finished, carved products. CHECK With more finished goods being produced locally, more raw stone is arriving from the mining areas around Bansi Paharpur, and more finished products are being shipped out. The increased movement of people and goods has rippled through the local economy. Five new hotels have been built. Demand has risen for restaurants, food shops, transport services, machine repair, electrical equipment, and welding. Transport businesses have grown alongside the stone trade. Suryakant Pandey, District Industries Officer at the District Industries Centre in Bharatpur, said that Bayana never traditionally had a community of hand-carving artisans. "Therefore, no local jobs were lost. The expansion of engraving and carving work through CNC machines has instead created new employment. Young people who earlier had only daily wage labor or migration as options are now working as technical machine operators and earning better salaries." The impact on traditional artisans The picture is more complicated in towns where traditional hand-carving was once the primary livelihood. When asked about artisans in Bhusawar, Shri Mahavir Ji, and Hindaun City, Nemichand Sharma said: "New technology definitely has an impact. It is true that work for those artisans has reduced. But it is also true that the new generation of traditional artisans is not interested in this work anymore. That is why many artisans themselves have now installed CNC machines." Shiv Das Singal, former president of the Hindaun RIICO Association, confirmed this pattern. "CNC machines are not coming only to Bayana…they are being installed everywhere," he said. "In Hindaun alone, around 40 machines have been installed. Work gets done faster and at lower cost." But Singal acknowledged the human cost: approximately 1,000 traditional hand-carvers in villages around Hindaun are now finding it difficult to get work. Many are shifting to stone cutting, construction, and other labor. "They are finding other work," he said, "but the old craft is fading." Slabs of stone cut and stacked at an industrial unit in Bayana. (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) The pollution problem Alongside the growth, a serious environmental challenge has gone unaddressed. Factories in the RIICO industrial area generate large volumes of stone slurry, liquid waste produced during cutting and carving. According to Rakesh Gurjar of Murraki village, who has been submitting petitions to the district administration on this issue for years, the Bayana industrial area generates approximately 50,000 liters of liquid slurry every day. Rather than being disposed of according to regulations, this waste is dumped on open land, in agricultural fields, and in the catchment area of the Murraki Dam. Once dry, the slurry becomes airborne powder that spreads widely. Local residents warn of long-term consequences for soil fertility and public health. "Factory owners have been dumping slurry waste on five bighas of railway land for years. When we raised our voice, the railway finally began building a wall there,” said Rakesh Gurjar of Murraki village" Soopa added,"Factory work has increased enormously, and disposing of stone waste has become a serious issue…We have been demanding a dumping yard from the government for years, but it has still not been built. People are suffering from pollution."Cover Image - An operator carving stone on a CNC machine at an industrial unit in Bayana. (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)

How longer summers, shrinking grazing lands are draining milk yields, unsettling Gujjar livelihoods in Rajasthan

In Bayana’s Gujjar heartland, longer summers and shrinking pastures are dismantling a way of life built on livestockBharatpur, Rajasthan: The Bayana region of Rajasthan's Bharatpur district is known for its animal husbandry-based economy. While all communities here practice animal husbandry, the Gujjar community depends on livestock as its primary source of livelihood. Limited agricultural land and a traditional way of life have made animal husbandry not just an occupation here, but a part of the region’s socio-cultural identity. Over the last decade, however, shifting weather patterns have begun to shake the foundation of this system. Increasing heat, decreasing rainfall, and shrinking pastures have combined to turn animal husbandry into an uncertain and risky profession.Livestock tied in a home enclosure near Bayana, Bharatpur district (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)No end to the summerRamjilal (77), a cattle rearer from Shahpur Dang village, remembers things differently. “I have 36 buffaloes. Earlier, intense heat used to last for a month or two, but now it continues for four to five months. The heat starts as early as February and doesn't end until Diwali. During this time, the animals do not eat fodder properly, drink water repeatedly, and become lethargic. This didn't happen before.” He told 101Reporters, “Diseases have also increased. Foot-and-Mouth Disease occurs very frequently now. Many times, animals die due to heat and disease — this is the biggest loss.”Dr. Mamta Sikarwar, Technical Officer at the Meteorological Centre in Bharatpur, confirmed what Ramjilal has observed over a lifetime. “The impact of climate change is clearly visible across the entire district. Intense heat and heatwaves usually start from March-April now. Earlier the temperature stayed around 45-46 degrees Celsius but now it is reaching 46-48 degrees. In May 2024, it was recorded at 49.2 degrees.” She added that the influence of winter is shrinking and the duration of summer has lengthened. Rainfall averages out on paper, but its timing has become deeply uncertain, Sikarwar added.The cost in litresThe most immediate economic blow of the heat falls on milk production, which is the backbone of the local economy. Rattiram Gujjar of Shahpur Dang village said, “Reduction in milk during summers has now become a common thing. If a buffalo gives ten litres of milk, it drops to six to eight litres. On top of that, problems of miscarriage have increased, which disrupts the entire future cycle.”Scientific research supports what he and others are experiencing on the ground. According to an ICAR study, rising temperatures disrupt the heat balance system in animals’ bodies, causing them to eat less fodder and produce less milk. Another study found that during high temperatures, animals expend most of their energy simply keeping their bodies cool, leaving little for output. The Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) has noted that climate change is increasing pressure on livestock productivity globally, and studies published in the Journal of Dairy Science have found that milk production can drop by 10 to 30 percent during extreme heat events.Pritam Gujjar, who owns 15 cows and 35 buffaloes, has watched the change accumulate year by year. “Ten-twelve years ago, there wasn’t this much heat and there weren’t so many problems. Now winter is only for name’s sake and we suffer losses every year because of the heat. Last year, ten of my buffaloes had miscarriages, this has become a yearly problem.” The decline in milk production, he said, is not just a daily income problem. “It affects the entire year’s financial planning.”A cattle rearer grazing livestock near Bayana, Bharatpur district (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)Increasing pressure on pasturesThe milk production is also getting affected due to the reducing quality of fodder available.Bhajanlal Gujjar of Gazipur village explained, “Earlier, plenty of grass used to grow near the village. We didn’t have to go far. But now pastures have been encroached upon. We have to take the animals several kilometres away to graze.” Gabbar Singh and Sohanlal, also from Gazipur, told 101Reporters, “Encroachment on pasture land has increased significantly, and because of this, the crisis of fodder for animals has deepened.”The loss of grazing land has a direct knock-on effect on fodder quality. Senior veterinarian Dr Girish Goyal, Nodal Officer of the Animal Husbandry Department in Bayana, explained: “Earlier, kutti, chopped green fodder, was given to animals. Now cattle rearers have shifted to bhusa (dry straw) and guar husk. This increases the problem of constipation and intestinal infections in the summer.” He added that animals need green fodder to avoid these ailments, but according to Shivram Gujjar, a cattle rearer from Imlia village, green fodder is not available in summers. “Where do we feed them green fodder from?” he asked. Shivram Gujjar explained that encroachment on pasture land has increased, rainfall has become irregular, and grass no longer grows the way it used to. “Earlier, green fodder was available for months after the monsoon. Now it dries up in a few days.” Meanwhile, cattle rearers are forced to buy expensive dry fodder, pushing up costs. A study by the Council on Energy, Environment and Water (CEEW) confirms this bind, three out of every four cattle rearers report a shortage of fodder and animal feed.Shishram Gujjar of Imlia village says he has tried raising the alarm. 'Forests have decreased and farming has started on pasture lands. We have to go very far to graze our sheep, goats, and cows. We have complained about encroachment many times, but no one listens.”Cattle rearers grazing sheep and goats near Gazipur village, Bayana Tehsil, Bharatpur district (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)Mounting crisisDr Goyal has watched the health consequences mount over years. “This is a hilly and rocky area that was always warm, but now both the intensity and duration of the heat have increased. Here, 80 to 90 percent of the livestock are buffaloes and buffaloes are affected more because they have lower heat tolerance.” Heat stress and heatstroke in animals are becoming more common, he said. When temperatures climb too high, animals cannot regulate their body temperature and milk production falls sharply.The toll goes beyond lost milk. “Every year, 50 to 100 buffaloes die due to intestinal infections, especially in the Dang region. A buffalo costs between one to one-and-a-half lakh rupees and the death of one animal means the family’s back is broken.” Cases of miscarriage also rise through the summer months, cutting into the future income of cattle rearers whose entire financial cycle depends on the next generation of animals.The Animal Husbandry Department has recently issued an advisory warning that problems like dehydration, heatstroke, fever, diarrhoea, and miscarriage are on the rise due to increasing heat and heatwaves. Untimely rain and hailstorms have further weakened animal immunity, raising the risk of infectious diseases. Experts said that shade, adequate cold water, nutritious fodder, and special care during heatwaves can help but implementing these measures requires resources that most cattle rearers simply do not have.The cumulative pressure — longer summers, lost pastures, rising costs, dead animals — is showing up in the numbers. According to the 2019 livestock census, there were approximately 1.25 lakh animals in Bayana Tehsil. Dr Goyal estimated that though the 2024-25 census figures are not yet available, there has been a decline of roughly 30 percent in recent years.A cattle rearer grazing livestock near Bayana, Bharatpur district (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)Jagram Gujjar in Bayana has seen it in his own neighbourhood. “Earlier, every house had 100-150 animals. Now that number has reduced significantly. People don’t even want to keep that many animals anymore.” Many have left the profession altogether, preferring small jobs in towns.It is a trend that worries Dr Goyal. “Many youths are doing small jobs for ten thousand rupees a month. But if they took proper training and raised even five animals, they could earn fifteen to twenty thousand rupees monthly.” Jagram is less optimistic about convincing them: “Youth no longer want to do animal husbandry. They feel it involves more hard work and less profit.”A study by Associate Professor Amlan Das Gupta at OP Jindal Global University underlines the wider stakes, the economic and nutritional challenges faced by small dairy farmers due to rising temperatures extend beyond individual families, posing a threat to national milk production and food security.This story was produced as a part of 101Reporters Climate Change Reporting Grant. Cover Image: A cattle rearer grazing sheep and goats near Imlia village, Bayana Tehsil, Bharatpur district.

When love becomes a POCSO case

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They came from the same village in Rajasthan's Hanumangarh district, moved in the same social world, and described what existed between them as mutual. None of that mattered under the law. She was under 18. He was not. Her father filed a complaint. An FIR was registered under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act and sections of the Indian Penal Code. Within days of the complaint, Kamlesh was in jail.What followed, three months in custody, years of court appearances, a marriage, a bank loan of five to six lakh rupees still being repaid, and a job that disappeared, was the full weight of a law designed to protect children pressing down on a relationship that both parties said was chosen freely. This case is not unusual. It is representative of a growing friction between what POCSO mandates and what courts, lawyers, police, psychologists, and the Supreme Court are beginning to acknowledge: that the law, as written, does not distinguish between exploitation and adolescent love.Arrest and custodyKamlesh (name changed) was arrested in March 2020. He was given no reason for the arrest. He was held in a police station lockup for a few hours before being produced before a magistrate, who sent him to judicial custody in Hanumangarh jail. Around 15 days later, during the Covid pandemic, he was transferred to Bikaner jail as part of efforts to reduce overcrowding.He remained there for about 100 days. For roughly the first three months, he had no access to a lawyer. When one finally came, he was arranged by Kamlesh's maternal uncle. A second lawyer had to be separately hired in Jodhpur when the matter eventually moved to the High Court.In the barrack where he was kept in Bikaner, there were 45 inmates. Around 15 of them, he said, were young men in cases similar to his, arrested under POCSO, their relationships they said were consensual, but the cases proceeded regardless. It was an adult jail, and they were all undertrials. "I was suddenly arrested," Kamlesh told 101Reporters. "I couldn't understand how a relationship that had the consent of both parties became a crime."The case moves forwardWhile Kamlesh was in custody, the police filed a chargesheet. When he had first been arrested, the girl had given a statement in his favour before the police. Her family, however, was consistently hostile. They said repeatedly that they would ensure he was punished. By the time the matter reached court, she gave a statement against him, and charges were framed.After getting bail — roughly 100 days after his arrest — Kamlesh began making repeated court appearances, a routine that would continue for years.In 2021, when he was 21 and a half years old, the two married. Both wanted to. Their lawyer had also advised that marriage could help the case. They presented the marriage documents before the POCSO court and applied for dismissal. The court refused. The matter then had to go to the Rajasthan High Court.The financial cost accumulated steadily. Between lawyers' fees and documentation, the family spent five to six lakh rupees. Kamlesh and his mother took a personal bank loan to cover it. They are still repaying it.The case also cost him his livelihood. At the time of the FIR, he had been working as a security guard at a factory in a nearby village. He lost the job after his arrest. Every subsequent attempt to find work ran into the same wall: companies conducted police verification, found the case on record, and turned him away. He had been in the second year of his BA when the FIR was registered. He had to stop. Until the FIR was quashed, no employment was possible."It felt as if the future was at risk," he said. "That life would have to be spent in jail."The High Court's interventionOn August 2, 2024, the Rajasthan High Court quashed the FIR and all related proceedings.The court found the case extraordinary. The girl had been only a few months short of 18 at the time of the alleged offence. The relationship was consensual. The couple was now married, and the families were no longer in opposition. The court observed that had the trial continued and charges been proved, the accused would have faced severe punishment for no reason other than the girl's age at the relevant time — an outcome that would have compounded suffering rather than served justice. The court cited a prior decision in Tarun Vaishnav vs. State, where similar circumstances had led to the same conclusion.For Kamlesh, the case is over. The loan is not.What the law requiresThe legal professionals who handle such cases describe a system with almost no room to move.Naveen Sethi, President of the Bar Association in Sangaria, says the situation at the trial stage is plain: "In many POCSO cases, it is visible that it is a romantic case, but the law is very clear, consent has no meaning under the age of 18. Therefore, the court has limited options."Advocate Dinesh Dadhich, a Former public prosecutor in Hanumangarh's Additional District and Sessions Court, put it similarly. Even when a case personally appears consensual, if the girl is a minor, the prosecution must proceed. "The POCSO court has its own limitations; it cannot go beyond the prescribed rules, but the High Court and Supreme Court have broad powers and can make decisions at their discretion."The police have no more room than the courts. Retired Inspector Rajender Bhadu of the Rajasthan Police says that once a family files a complaint, registration is not optional. "POCSO is a strict law; you cannot do anything according to your discretion in it. If the girl's age is less than 18, a case is made." He adds that investigation sometimes reveals consent after the fact, but by then, the process cannot be undone.The social contextDr Archana Godara, Assistant Professor of Sociology at NM PG College, Hanumangarh, sees the problem as lying partly outside the courtroom. Adolescent relationships have become a social reality, but families and communities often treat them as violations of authority. When young people choose each other, she says, it is seen not only as breaking social rules but as an affront to parental control. The FIR, in many such cases, is less about protection than about punishment.She argues that where consent exists and families have eventually come around, there is little purpose served by continuing prosecution. "What is the benefit of continuing the legal process in such cases?"Dr. Manish Baghla, a psychologist at Tantia University, Sri Ganganagar, describes the mental impact on those caught in such proceedings as lasting and serious. Adolescence is a period of intense emotional formation. When a relationship formed during that period is retrospectively classified as criminal, the effect on both individuals is significant, the boy is labelled a criminal; the girl absorbs the pressure of family and social expectation. Jail, prolonged court proceedings, and social stigma compound each other, and their combined effect on self-confidence and future prospects can be substantial.What the data showsResearch and official data together suggest that Kamlesh's case is not exceptional in kind, only in outcome.A study by the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy notes that under POCSO, any sexual relationship involving a person under 18 is treated as a crime irrespective of consent, provisions 2(1)(d), 3, and 4 make this explicit, and that in certain cases the minimum punishment prescribed is harsher than for rape involving adults. Research across states has found that in Delhi, Maharashtra, and Andhra Pradesh, more than 20 percent of POCSO cases arise from what are described as romantic circumstances. In Karnataka, analysis of court data puts the figure at around 49 percent. The consequence is that special courts designed to deal with child sexual exploitation are spending significant resources on cases where no exploitation was alleged.National Crime Records Bureau data from 2018 to 2022 shows that arrests of adolescents aged 16 to 18 under POCSO have increased steadily over this period. The conviction rate has not followed. It has held at roughly 11 to 12 percent — 12.22 percent in 2018, 11.18 percent in 2022 — and the acquittal rate has consistently remained higher. These figures were presented by the Central Government before the Supreme Court in response to a PIL.DebateIn January 2026, the Supreme Court suggested that the government consider introducing a "Romeo-Juliet clause" in POCSO, which would treat consensual relationships between adolescents differently from exploitation. The court noted that the law, while necessary, has repeatedly been used in personal disputes or as an instrument of revenge, and that cases involving mutual consent and emotional impulse, rather than abuse, should not face the same consequences.Lata Singh, Programme Manager of Project Sneh Bandhan at Gandhi Nagar Police Station in Jaipur — which provides support to children in POCSO cases — welcomes the pressure for reform but urges caution. The law's protections for genuine victims must not be weakened in the process of accommodating adolescent relationships.Vijay Goyal, General Secretary of the Resource Institute for Human Rights Rajasthan, is more direct. "Two children become friends, form a relationship, but only one is punished. Why?" He argues that relationships in the 16-18 age group must be viewed differently, and that filling jails on the basis of consensual relationships "is not justified."Retired Inspector Bhadu sees the contradiction from both sides. "On one hand, same-sex and lesbian relationships are being recognised. On the other hand, people are being stopped from forming natural relationships. This is a big contradiction." He said the Supreme Court's suggestion deserves serious consideration.This story was produced for and originally published as part of the Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy. Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva

What makes or breaks a case

A former prosecutor explains how evidence, procedure and human factors shape outcomesHanumangarh, Rajasthan: Testimony was underway that day in the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances Act court in Hanumangarh, Rajasthan. The case involved the recovery of narcotics. A police constable stood in the witness box since he was considered a key witness in the matter. The Public Prosecutor questioned him. The constable replied, "I know nothing about it. I had stepped away at that moment to relieve myself."A stunned silence fell over the courtroom for a few moments. This was the very case in which the same police constable had been cited as an eyewitness to the recovery. Advocate Dinesh Kumar Dadhich, who was arguing the case as a Special Public Prosecutor at the time, still vividly recalls that day. He told 101Reporters that, for a fleeting moment, it felt as though the entire case had slipped through their fingers. However, relying on other corroborating evidence, they managed to salvage it.This is not merely an isolated incident, it offers a glimpse into the world in which a Public Prosecutor operates on a daily basis — a world where every case is not solely a matter of law, but rather a complex interplay of the legal system, procedural protocols, and human behaviour.Dadhich completed his LLB in 2001 and began practising criminal law that very April. Based on his extensive legal experience, he was appointed as a Public Prosecutor on two separate occasions, first as a Special Public Prosecutor in the Court of the Additional District and Sessions Judge (I) from 2009 to 2014, and subsequently in the Special Court (NDPS Act Cases) from 2019 to 2025. He is currently engaged in private legal practice. Over the course of this tenure, he handled thousands of cases. 101 Reporters interviewed Dadhich to gain a deeper understanding of the inherent difficulties and challenges involved in the work of a Public Prosecutor.450 cases, one prosecutorThis is a common situation for everyone, the volume of pending cases in the courts is extremely high. There are no vacant posts. Each court has its own designated Public Prosecutor. In Rajasthan, Public Prosecutors are appointed in two ways: those selected through a competitive examination when vacancies are announced, and those appointed by the state government for a fixed tenure based on their legal practice experience. Lawyers appointed on the basis of experience face their own distinct set of challenges.Dadhich explains that such Public Prosecutors receive comparatively lower remuneration. Their total income, combining their monthly salary and daily incentives, amounts to approximately Rs 36,000 to Rs 39,000 rupees. In contrast, the salary of regular government lawyers can range from Rs 1 lakh to Rs 2 lakh.The difference is not limited to salary alone. When an experience-based Public Prosecutor joins a court, they are immediately confronted with a caseload of 400 to 450 cases. They face an equal number of opposing lawyers while standing alone on their side. This imbalance affects not only the workload but also the quality of justice delivered.These cases involve charges such as murder, rape, kidnapping, offences under the NDPS Act, and other serious crimes. Each case demands a unique approach to preparation, yet time is a scarce commodity. Many times, the case file is received on the very day arguments are scheduled.In the courtroomThe role of a Public Prosecutor is typically perceived as primarily involving arguments in court. Dadhich, however, offered a different perspective. He pointed out that half their time is spent not on arguing, but on management, deciding which case to take up first, identifying which cases have witnesses present, determining which ones require adjournment.The number of pending cases in most courts is already staggering. The non-appearance of witnesses, the transfer of police officers, and delays in obtaining forensic reports all combine to create a vicious cycle in which cases drag on for years. At times, an entire day can be consumed by recording the statement of a single witness. A Public Prosecutor is often required to manage dozens of cases simultaneously, the absence of witnesses, repeated adjournments, and ever-growing piles of case files constitute the underlying reality behind the “arguments” visible within the courtroom.The work of a Public Prosecutor is fundamentally predicated upon police investigation. They do not conduct independent investigations, rather, they present their case based on the charge sheets and evidence compiled by the police. Dadhich said that the entire edifice of the prosecution's argument rests on police investigation. If there are flaws or deficiencies in that investigation, handling such cases in court becomes extremely difficult.Prior to the filing of a charge sheet, the police frequently seek the opinion of the prosecution. During this process, the Public Prosecutor reviews the case file and points out any deficiencies. It is not guaranteed that these will be rectified in every instance.Dadhich stated that, through his efforts, the system of prosecution review, previously confined to the lower courts, was extended to Sessions Courts presiding over cases under the NDPS Act, the SC/ST Act, and the POCSO Act. While this has improved the quality of cases to some extent, the underlying problem has not been entirely resolved. Officials within the Prosecution Department opposed the move; they were reluctant to allow experience-based Public Prosecutors to undertake this role within Sessions Courts.The Public Prosecutor is often described as a “representative of justice”. But, in practice, they function as counsel for the state. Dadhich noted that every Public Prosecutor may internally feel that their objective is to secure a conviction against the accused. In reality, their mandate is not to secure a conviction, but to present the relevant facts before the court. The ultimate verdict rests with the court.There are instances where a case may appear weak to the prosecutor personally, yet they remain professionally obligated to present it with full vigour on behalf of the state, he said adding that this aspect is one of the most challenging of the profession – a point where personal judgment and professional duty come into conflict.Hearings involving murder, sexual offences, and cases concerning children are not merely legal proceedings, they also carry a profound emotional weight. Dadhich recounted that on one occasion, he listened to the testimony of a minor rape survivor. For several days afterwards, he was unable to sleep properly. "I now practise independently, but I steer clear of such cases. No matter how substantial the fee, I do not take on these matters."Within the judicial system, he observed, no one has the time, or the capacity, to concern themselves with anyone's mental well-being.Technicalities of NDPS procedureThe law governing narcotics-related offences is stringent, yet its procedural aspects are highly technical. Even a minor error during the search and seizure process can significantly weaken an entire case, he explained. Consequently, accused individuals are often acquitted on technical grounds, a phenomenon that sparks resentment within society. People assume that the accused has "gotten away with it," failing to realise that the law demands concrete evidence; convictions cannot be secured on suspicion alone.In the Hanumangarh district and its surrounding areas, the nature of drug abuse has undergone a transformation. Previously, traditional intoxicants such as opium and poppy derivatives were prevalent, now heroin and "smack" have replaced them. The use of injectable drugs has increased significantly, further intensifying the severity of the problem.Against this backdrop, a deep-seated dissatisfaction pervades society. People demand the eradication of drug abuse and severe punishment for traffickers. This explains why, whenever an accused individual in an NDPS Act case is acquitted on technical grounds, it triggers public outrage. On one hand, the law demands evidence; on the other, society demands results.What undid a caseDadhich also recounted a case in which a minor procedural inconsistency proved immensely costly. A woman had sustained severe burns in a fire. Initially, she told the police that the incident was accidental. She later accused her in-laws in her statement before a magistrate. She subsequently died, and the case was reclassified as a murder investigation.The charge sheet submitted by the police to the court contained only the magistrate's statement, whereas the case file handed to Dadhich contained both statements. The defence counsel seized upon this contradiction. The court acquitted the accused, granting them the benefit of the doubt.This case, Dadhich pointed out, was not merely about a technical lapse, it illustrated how the disconnect between truth, procedure, and presentation can profoundly affect the delivery of justice.The outcomeThe role of a Public Prosecutor is not merely to secure a conviction, but to ensure that justice is served. But is this always possible? Dadhich said that while every Public Prosecutor strives to present the true facts before the court, the system itself has inherent limitations. Often, despite everything being done correctly, the outcome does not align with what it ought to be. This, he noted, is the greatest truth of the profession.Every case serves as a test, not merely of the law, but of the system itself. Justice is not determined solely within the courtroom; it is the cumulative outcome of investigation, evidence, witnesses, and procedure. Public Prosecutors, working within this framework, strive each day to ensure that the truth reaches the court,  yet justice is not determined by their efforts alone. It is the outcome of an entire chain of processes, one in which the strength of every single link is essential.This story was produced for and originally published as part of the Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy. Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva

Why farmers in Rajasthan’s Hanumangarh are selling chickpeas before they ripen

Erratic weather and climate risks are pushing farmers to harvest and sell green chickpeas early, reshaping cultivation patterns and creating a new rural supply chain. Hanumangarh, Rajasthan: In Hanumangarh district of Rajasthan, an old, almost fixed cycle of farming appears to be breaking down. Chickpea cultivation, which for decades followed a predictable sequence, sowing, ripening, harvesting and selling the grain in the market, is no longer following the same pattern. This shift is not driven by new technology or government schemes, but by farmers’ declining confidence in the weather. Sudden rains, unseasonal showers, hailstorms and strong winds are no longer exceptions but common experiences. Amid this uncertainty, many farmers are choosing to sell their chickpea crop while it is still in the grain stage, instead of waiting for it to fully ripen. The crop is sold as green chickpeas – the immature grains harvested before drying. The changing pattern is visible across rainfed villages such as Malwani, Pichkarai, Aradki, Asarjana, Modhuwali Dhani and Ratanpura in Nohar tehsil of Hanumangarh district. A growing number of farmers in these villages now sell their chickpea crop before it ripens. Atmaram Doodi, a farmer from Malwani village, told 101Reporters how this shift happened.  “I first started selling green chickpeas about ten years ago, but back then it was an experiment. For the last six or seven years, I’ve become completely dependent on it. Now I don’t even wait for the chickpeas to ripen.” Last year, Doodi cultivated chickpeas on ten bighas of land and sold the entire crop as green chickpeas. This year, he has sown improved seeds on three bighas. “If this seed proves successful, I will sow chickpeas on my entire land and sell the crop as green chickpeas. Waiting until it ripens has become risky now,” he said. Amidst uncertainty, many farmers are choosing to sell their chickpea crop while it is still in the grain stage (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) Climate’s curse on farming For farmers, the main reason behind the shift is not the market but the weather. Farmers say that March, when the chickpea crop nears maturity, has become the most uncertain period. “Earlier, we used to be able to predict the weather. In the past few years, weather uncertainty has increased significantly,” said Bhup Singh Saharan, a farmer from Aradki village. “If it rains before flowering or ripening, the entire crop is ruined. So for the past two or three years, farmers have started selling chickpeas before they ripen.” Last year, Saharan cultivated chickpeas on 25 bighas of land and sold the entire crop while it was still green. “If the crop had remained standing and had been hit by hail, it would have been gone. By selling it half-ripe, we at least avoided the loss.” Kaluram Poonia, another farmer from Malwani village, said farmers now prefer certainty over waiting for higher yields. “We no longer rely on the weather. We sell the crop as soon as the grains are ready. We get cash, and we don’t have to worry about everything going wrong at the last moment.” The shift is significant because Rajasthan and Madhya Pradesh together account for a large share of India’s chickpea production. Madhya Pradesh is the country’s largest producer, while Rajasthan ranks third. Research conducted by Banasthali Vidyapeeth has shown that declining production and quality degradation directly affect farmers’ incomes. In such circumstances, farmers increasingly prioritise stable income over potentially higher profits. The study also noted that Rajasthan’s agricultural system is highly vulnerable due to low and erratic rainfall, long hot seasons and limited irrigation resources. Even a 1°C increase in temperature negatively affects crop productivity, with rabi crops, especially chickpea, being particularly sensitive to abnormal heat. The problem is not just low rainfall but rainfall at the wrong time. Rain just before flowering or ripening can damage both the quantity and quality of the crop. Economics of green chickpeas The decision to sell the crop as green chickpeas, hoping to earn double the MSP, stems not only from fear but also from clear economic calculations. Atmaram Doodi explained the calculation simply. “If the weather is good and there are no diseases, one bigha of gram can yield up to four quintals. But often it is limited to two or three quintals.” “If we assume three quintals and the price is Rs 5,000 per quintal, we earn about Rs 15,000. But selling green gram brings almost double that.” Green chickpeas are uprooted along with their roots, stems, leaves and immature grains. One bigha yields about 25-30 quintals of green produce. “If traders come to the field, they buy it for Rs 14 per kilogram. If we take it to the market ourselves, we get Rs 17-18 per kilogram. There is no need for harvesting or threshing,” Doodi said. This allows farmers to earn roughly twice the minimum support price of gram – Rs 5,875 per quintal – while reducing labour and risk. The trend is not limited to Nohar. Farmers in Bhadra tehsil villages such as Bhirani, Dabdi, Berwali, Sagada, Suratpura and Amarpura are also increasingly selling chickpea crops before they ripen. Krishna Jangra, a farmer from Bhirani village, said he adopted the method last year. “I sowed chickpeas on two and a half bighas and sold them before they ripened. This method is better. There is no fear of bad weather.” New rural economy The growing demand for green chickpeas has created new employment opportunities in villages and nearby towns: for wholesalers, transporters, pickup drivers and street vendors. Man Singh and his brother from Dabli Rathan village buy green chickpeas directly from farmers. “In December, we first bring green chickpeas from Jawada and nearby areas in Madhya Pradesh, where they sell for Rs 15–20 per kilogram. We bring them here in pickup trucks and sell them for Rs 30–35.” Retailers then sell them to customers for around Rs 70–80 per kilogram in the early part of the season. When supplies from Madhya Pradesh decline, traders start sourcing the crop from Rajasthan – including Badi Sadri in Chittorgarh, Dudu in Ajmer, Kishangarh and Jaisalmer. Hanumangarh’s crop reaches the market in March. Aslam Khan, a trader from Aradki village in Nohar tehsil, transports green chickpeas to markets in Haryana and Punjab. “We take them to Fatehabad, Sirsa, Hisar and Rohtak in Haryana, and to Mansa, Bathinda, Patiala and Amritsar in Punjab, as well as Delhi,” he said. “In March, we buy green chickpeas here for about Rs 8 per kilogram and sell them in Punjab and Haryana markets for Rs 30-Rs 40. Even after expenses, there is a profit.” The growing demand for green chickpeas has created new employment opportunities for villagers (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) Changing consumption patterns The extended availability of green chickpeas, now lasting nearly six months, has also influenced eating habits. Green chickpeas are no longer just an everyday vegetable but have become popular at weddings and other events. Budh Singh, who sells green chickpeas on the roadside in Sangaria, said the crop now provides steady work. “There is demand for them for several months. This gives us continuous employment. We also sell radish, spinach, fenugreek and mustard greens.” Retailer Malkit Singh said the crop sells quickly. “People buy green chickpeas eagerly. Whatever stock we bring gets sold.” The trade has also created work for women in the area. Women collect unshelled chickpeas from retailers, shell the grains and return them. They earn about Rs 10 for shelling one kilogram, and typically process around 10 kilograms a day. Agriculture officials say the trend reflects farmers’ attempts to adapt to growing climate uncertainty. Madan Joshi, a retired assistant director in the Agriculture Department, said selling chickpeas before they ripen is a practical response. “It is not a policy decision but a decision based on experience – reducing risk, ensuring income and clearing fields earlier.” Professor Santosh Rajpurohit, former state president of the Rajasthan Economic Council, said rising health consciousness has also increased demand for rain-fed green chickpeas. However, he noted that climate uncertainty remains the main factor shaping farmers’ decisions. Selling chickpeas early reduces labour, eliminates weather risks and often provides better returns. “When farmers sell their produce in the traditional way, they remain worried about rain until it reaches the market,” Rajpurohit said. “Adopting new methods gives them greater confidence.” This story was produced as a part of 101Reporters Climate Change Reporting Grant. Cover photo - Shopkeepers selling green chickpeas on the pavement in Sangria of Hanumangarh district (Photo - Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters)

‘Every sentence is pronounced with patience and caution’: A judge on the gaps in POCSO cases

Ratanlal Mund, a retired special judge in Rajasthan, analyses the functioning of the special courts under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, their strengths and shortcomings  Jaipur, Rajasthan: A few years ago, retired justice Ratanlal Mund presided over a case where a man was accused of impregnating his minor daughter. The allegation, made by his wife, led to his arrest under the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act. But the Forensic Science Laboratory report later revealed that he was not the biological father of the foetus, and the real culprit could not be found.“Had the police investigated the matter properly in the beginning, the real culprit would not have escaped,” said Mund, a retired special judge in the POCSO court in Rajasthan. “If the blood samples of suspects, neighbours and people who were in contact with the girl were taken and sent for DNA testing at that time, a case could have been made out later.”Mund told 101Reporters that the case illustrated how delays and lapses at the investigation stage can derail justice and how the judge has to be watchful while dealing with sensitive cases under the POCSO Act.“From the very first day a first information report reaches the POCSO court, the judge has to be on a watch,” he said. “If there are shortcomings, instructions to address them should be given to the police officer concerned. And while accepting the chargesheet, care must be taken that no evidence is excluded, and the FIR should be checked for its content.”Mund became a judicial officer in 1996 and later served as a POCSO judge in Ajmer and Merta City for five-and-a-half years. He held various positions, including that of civil judge, judicial magistrate, additional chief judicial magistrate, chief judicial magistrate, additional district judge and family court judge at 15 locations in the state.Explaining the functioning of courts established exclusively to deal with cases under the Act, he said that the first response in such instances is to conduct the victim’s medical examination.“Following proper procedure is very important. The doctor has to seal the clothes themselves before sending them to the forensic science laboratory. But sometimes care is not taken. The station house officer takes the clothes and keeps them in the police station for a long time before they are sent for investigation.”He also said statements under Section 164 of the Criminal Procedure Code should be recorded within 24 hours. “However, they are not always recorded. There could also be an attempt to change the girl’s statement so that the accused gets bail. Later, under pressure, the parents also often change their statements in court. In such cases, the court cannot do anything even if it wants to.”Delhi High Court advocate Shiv Kumar Yadav said many cases collapse because families themselves resist filing complaints when the accused is a close relative. Delays in registering FIRs weaken evidence and complicate prosecution.Priyanka (name changed), from a small district village in Uttar Pradesh, was a minor in September 2022 and working part-time at a marriage hall reception. The manager allegedly tried to force himself on her. When she resisted, he offered her money and later raped her at knifepoint. She spent ten days going to the police station before the FIR was finally registered.Since then, she has been attending court hearings for two years. The accused is out on bail. Her education and job prospects were disrupted. Her lawyer said the police initially pressured the family to “settle the matter”. Relatives also visited her home and the police station, urging compromise. The FIR was registered only because the girl insisted on pursuing the case.About instances where child victims change their statements out of fear or under pressure, he said, “Such cases are only 10 to 15%. Often, the investigating agency or the cooperating agency comes under some pressure. Legally and morally, this should not be done.” He added that POCSO courts see more cases related to girls from economically and socially weaker sections, and some families are unable to report incidents due to pressure.In another case, a four-year-old child was abused repeatedly by school staff. Six years later, when she was brought to identify the accused, their appearance had changed, and the teachers were not present; only the gatekeeper and cleaner. The child could not identify them. They were granted bail. The case continues.Instances of negligence by police officers and doctors have also surfaced. In a POCSO case in Chittorgarh, there was a contradiction between the doctor’s report and the statement given in court. Even then, the judge sentenced the accused to 20 years of imprisonment. In cases against negligent officers, courts often pass orders directing higher authorities to take action. However, action is taken only in very few cases.Ratanlal Mund, a retired special judge in the POCSO court (Photo sourced by Amarpal Singh Verma, 101Reporters) According to Mund, many cases come up where people were falsely implicated, and evidence was fabricated. Though courts write to the departments concerned to act against erring officers, action was taken only in very few cases. “In most cases, after a cursory investigation, the file is closed, saying that the officer concerned is not at fault. This process is not very effective,” he noted.A system under backlogThe challenges described by Mund are not limited to Rajasthan. A 2023 report by the National Crime Records Bureau found that India faces a shortage of forensic science laboratories and experts, affecting the timely disposal of sexual offence cases. While the Union government has announced new regional FSLs under the Nirbhaya Fund, implementation remains uneven.According to data cited in the Indian Child Protection Fund’s report ‘Justice Awaits’, as of January 2023, 2,43,237 POCSO cases were pending across India. Only three per cent of cases ended in conviction in 2022. Special POCSO courts were mandated to dispose of at least 165 cases a year, but on average, only 28 cases are resolved annually.The report estimates that even if no new cases are registered, it would take nine years to clear the existing backlog nationally. Based on pending cases as of 2023, Delhi would take 27 years to clear its backlog, Bihar 26 years, West Bengal 25 years, and Uttar Pradesh 22 years.In a response in the Lok Sabha, the Ministry of Law and Justice stated that 2,02,175 POCSO cases were pending in fast-track courts as of December 31, 2023. Uttar Pradesh had the highest number at 84,778.Earlier, in response to a question in the Rajya Sabha, Union minister Kiren Rijiju said that pending POCSO cases in Uttar Pradesh rose from 28,199 in December 2020 to 67,615 in December 2022. Across the country, the number rose from 1,70,271 in December 2020 to 2,47,766 in December 2022."A Decade of POCSO" by the Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy's JALDI initiative analysed over 2.3 lakh cases to find that 43.44% of accused persons in POCSO cases are acquitted for various reasons, while only 14.03% result in conviction.Jaya Sharma, program head at Child Rights and You, said families often delay filing complaints due to fear of public shame. “Consequently, the case weakens due to a lack of evidence.” She added that when the accused is a close relative, social and economic pressures complicate proceedings further.Sangita Sharma of Child Line said delays occur at multiple stages: from filing the FIR to photography, videography and documentation. “Important evidence is often lost during this process. Consequently, cases linger for years.”Complex cases and accountabilityMund said some cases also involve false implication. “All laws have their strengths and flaws. The beauty is that they give justice to victims. The drawback is that bogus lawsuits tend to be filed. Laws related to dowry, Scheduled Castes/Tribes and domestic violence have been misused a lot.” “In POCSO cases, witness statements should be analysed with caution,” he said.He added that cases involving adolescents require careful scrutiny. “There is no question of leniency in cases of children under 12 years of age. Where children in the 12 to 16 age group are involved, decisions are taken on a case-by-case basis. In cases above 16 years of age, it has been observed that girls sometimes change their statements if there is a love affair. They may also give statements under pressure from family members. So, a decision has to be reached accordingly.”Recently, the Delhi High Court ruled that women could also be prosecuted under the POCSO Act for penetrative sexual assault and aggravated penetrative sexual assault. Asked if a case of sexual assault on children ever came against a woman in his court, Mund said he had come across many cases in which women have also been the accused. “The POCSO Act is gender neutral,” he reminded.The Punjab and Haryana High Court recently upheld that the charge of rape by a minor does not end by marrying a minor. On such cases, Mund said, “I have never had such a case. The law has no intention of justifying a wrong and pardoning a criminal. The crime happened once. We cannot forgive the accused in the name of any subsequent action. There is no such provision in the law. If a man's wife is below 15 years of age and he has physical relations with her, then a case of rape can be filed against him. He can be forgiven to some extent only on the ground that he is the husband of the victim.”On the role of prosecution, he said the evidence collected must be presented sequentially and a summons issued promptly. FSL reports should be ordered without delay. “This helps a lot.”Noting that conviction rates remain low, Mund said this could reflect weaknesses in investigation. “Instead of conducting a smooth investigation and collecting strong evidence, some officers want to somehow present the chargesheet in the court.”He said that in some instances, cases may also be registered out of revenge or other reasons, while in others, investigating agencies may not be adequately trained to deal with the law. Although the court keeps supervising, agencies still do not receive sufficient training to collect every piece of evidence and present it effectively. As a result, many accused are acquitted.Referring to a rape and murder case in Ajmer in which he awarded the death penalty within four months, Mund said the decision required careful study of Supreme Court precedents and the circumstances of the crime. “Every aspect of the law, the circumstances of the crime and the decisions given by the Supreme Court in cases of the death penalty had to be studied. How the incident shocked society and what message it sent to society had to be analysed.”He said that there is a “golden principle” of criminal justice. “Even if 10 guilty people are spared, not one innocent person should be punished.”With inputs from Mithilesh DharThis story was produced for and originally published as part of the Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy.Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva

Water-intensive Mathania chilli awaits GI recognition amid groundwater crisis

As it moves closer to a GI tag, production of one of Rajasthan’s trademark chillies remains at its lowest level in decades.Hanumangarh, Rajasthan: The Mathania chilli of Rajasthan’s Jodhpur district is likely to soon receive a Geographical Indication (GI) tag. The preliminary hearing on the application filed nearly a year ago by the Tinwari Farmer Producer Company, supported by the National Bank for Agriculture and Rural Development, has been completed, and expert evaluation is at an advanced stage.Yet even as legal recognition moves forward, cultivation has reached its lowest point. The chilli whose name is being protected has almost disappeared from the fields.Three decades ago, Mathania and its chilli were nearly synonymous. Spread across villages in the Tinwari and Osian blocks, winter fields once turned a striking red as chillies ripened and dried in the sun. The crop was grown on nearly 70,000 hectares, with annual production reaching 1.3 million metric tons.Farmer families busy drying chilies in the fields in the Mathania-Tinwari agricultural area of ​​Jodhpur district (Photo - Jethmal Jain)It was exported to the United Arab Emirates, the United States, Saudi Arabia, the United Kingdom and Indonesia. Traders travelled directly to villages, and Mathania chilli became known internationally for its deep colour, pungency and aroma.Today, the landscape has changed. According to Rupesh Lava, Deputy Director of the Horticulture Department in Jodhpur, chilli was sown on just 750 hectares in 2024-25 and again in 2025-26, with production at only 1,650 metric tons,  the lowest ever recorded. He attributed the decline to decades of water scarcity and shifts in farming patterns.Chilli crop in a field in Bada Kotecha village in the Mathania-Tinwari agricultural area of ​​Jodhpur district (Photo - Jethmal Jain)Years in the makingThe primary cause has been the over-extraction of groundwater. The crisis could have been foreseeable ages ago. In a 1988 study, University of Minnesota sociologist Michael Goldman documented that some farmers in the Jodhpur region were extracting up to 50,000 gallons of water daily and irrigating chilli fields 40 to 60 times over a nine-month cycle. This far exceeded natural recharge capacity.While most food crops require irrigation four to ten times per season, chili cultivation pushed the entire region into a long-term water crisisThe situation worsened in 2001, when authorities began drawing groundwater from Mathania and surrounding areas to meet Jodhpur city’s drinking water needs. This situation proved fatal for water-intensive crops like chilies. Poor water quality, increasing salinity, soil salinity, and pest infestations like nematodes, head-spinning, thrips, and whiteflies all increased. Indiscriminate pesticide spraying led to the development of resistance in pests, and this crop gradually became a loss-making proposition for farmers.The impact extended beyond agriculture. Jetmal Jain, a farmer and agricultural journalist from Tinwari, says chilli once generated such prosperity that young people did not consider salaried jobs. Now, many have lost interest in farming altogether. Kaluram Bhati of Balarwa village, who once cultivated 50 bighas of chilli, now sows just six. His son is preparing for the Rajasthan Administrative Service. Chandrakant Khatri of Tinwari told 101Reporters that 25 families in his extended family cultivated chilli on 1,200 bighas of land. In the 1960s, water was found at a depth of 40 to 50 feet. Today, it lies 1,000 to 1,200 feet below ground. Due to poor water quality, the TDS and other contaminants in the water increased, which then formed a layer on the soil, depleting the soil's nutrients. Pest infestations in chili peppers continued to increase. Indiscriminate use of pesticides led to insect resistance, and ultimately, chili cultivation had to be abandoned.The family shifted to mustard, wheat and peanuts. Initially profitable, even these crops now yield significantly less. Of 1,200 bighas, only 150 to 200 are currently cultivated. Mustard yields have nearly halved. Wheat output has dropped sharply and its production continues to decline.A view of chilli cultivation in a low tunnel in Jhumarlal Chaudhary's field in Gagadi village (Photo - Jethmal Jain)Cautious revivalSome farmers, however, are experimenting with revival. Mahendra Chaudhary of Gagadi village resumed chilli cultivation on four-and-a-half bighas last year after a decade-long gap. His brother uses drip irrigation, mulching and low tunnels, and practices organic farming. In villages such as Rajasani, Tinwari, Binjhwadia, Rampura, Balrava and Bada Kotecha, farmers have built rainwater storage tanks and distribute water through drip systems rather than flood irrigation.Water from tube wells is not used directly. It is first poured into the tanks to allow the nutrients to settle, and then the same water is distributed to the fields through drip irrigation. Asha Ram Gehlot, a trader in Mathania, said that he once handled up to 300 maunds of chilli. Today, volumes are too low to sustain profitable trade.Rupesh Lava, Deputy Director of the Horticulture Department, believes that receiving the GI tag will benefit farmers. According to him, the department is encouraging farmers to adopt organic farming and drip irrigation, and farmers are gradually shifting towards this. He says that if proper technology and water management are adopted, Mathania chili cultivation can be revived.Amidst this hope, opinions differ regarding the GI tag. Shravan Ram Bhadu, CEO of Tinwari Farmer Producer Company, says that other varieties of chili are being sold in the market under the name of his chili. According to him, the GI tag will prevent brand theft and provide legal protection to Mathania chili. He explains that traditional indigenous seeds have almost become extinct, but efforts are being made to revive cultivation using those seeds on a trial basis. Farmers are now abandoning flood irrigation and returning to drip irrigation and organic farming.Tulchharam Sinwar of the Bharatiya Kisan Sangh believes that the GI tag will provide legal protection to Mathania chillies and enable them to fetch premium prices in the marketBut not everyone is on the same page. Farmer Chandulal Khatri says a GI tag cannot bring water back to wells. Rampal Jat, National President of the Kisan Mahapanchayat, argued that branding is meaningless without stable production. First, he says, groundwater must be restored and disease-resistant local seeds redeveloped.On the other hand, government officials believe that the situation is serious, but not completely insurmountable. Piles of chilli after harvesting in a field (Photo - Jethmal Jain)Efforts undertakenPrahlad Singh Rathore, a senior groundwater scientist at the Groundwater Department in Jodhpur, said excessive extraction has far outpaced natural recharge. As a result, the entire Jodhpur district has fallen into the “dark zone”. Most tube wells have dried up, and the remaining water has turned saline, with high TDS levels and other contaminants. “This is a loss that cannot be compensated immediately,” he said, adding that sustained efforts are required.Inspired by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s Catch the Rain campaign, the state government launched the “From Workplace to Motherland” initiative a year ago, involving entrepreneurs and businesspersons working outside the state. Under the scheme, the aim is to build four recharge shaft structures in each gram panchayat. So far, around 16,500 recharge shafts have been constructed. Rathore said more people need to participate to accelerate water conservation and groundwater recharge efforts.He added that the department is encouraging groundwater recharge, crop diversification and a shift to less water-intensive crops. In water-scarce regions such as western Rajasthan, he said, crops like wheat should be avoided, noting that producing one kilogram of wheat requires 500 to 1,000 litres of water.Dr Vikas Pawadia, assistant professor at the Nagaur College of Agriculture and state adviser on GI tags, said a GI tag would provide Mathania chilli with global recognition and legal protection, which could encourage farmers to return to its cultivation.Cover photo - Women taking care of dried red chilies in a field in Bada Kotecha village in the Mathania-Tinwari agricultural area of ​​Jodhpur district (Photo - Jethmal Jain)

Why most death sentences in India do not survive appeal

Data and recent Supreme Court judgments show how trial court death sentences frequently collapse under appellate scrutiny, raising questions about investigation, evidence and the use of capital punishment.Hanumangarh, Rajasthan: Eight years after a crime that later led to a death sentence, the Supreme Court has acquitted a young man from Chennai convicted of the rape and murder of a seven-year-old girl.A trial court in Chengalpattu had sentenced him to death in 2018, a verdict later upheld by the Madras High Court. Earlier this month, a three-judge bench of the Supreme Court overturned both judgments, citing serious gaps in the prosecution’s case.For many, the decision was difficult to come to terms with. How could a person found guilty of one of the gravest crimes by two courts be acquitted years later?“This question keeps returning again and again,” said Archana Godara, a sociologist at NM Government College in Hanumangarh. “When someone is sentenced to death for a crime that society sees as unforgivable, and is later acquitted, it creates anxiety and anger. People feel the system has failed them.”Godara added that such outcomes weaken public confidence. “There is a fear that criminals will believe they can escape punishment,” she said. “That the law will eventually let them go.”But within the judiciary and among legal researchers, the Chennai acquittal is not seen as an aberration. Instead, it reflects a pattern that has been steadily emerging across India’s courts: death sentences awarded at the trial level frequently collapse when subjected to closer scrutiny on appeal.Data compiled by Project 39A, a criminal justice research group at National Law University Delhi, illustrates this. Between 2016 and 2024, trial courts across India awarded 1,180 death sentences. Appellate courts ultimately confirmed only 95 of them. The rest were either commuted to life imprisonment or ended in acquittals.The trend has become even sharper in recent years. In the first seven months of 2025, the Supreme Court heard 14 appeals arising from death sentences. In seven cases—half of them—it ordered complete acquittal. This is the highest proportion of death sentence acquittals recorded in a single year in recent history. Of the remaining cases, four death sentences were reduced to life imprisonment.The Supreme Court has so far set aside the death penalty in nearly three out of every four cases it has heard this year.Recent examples explaining this trend are: In September last year, the Supreme Court acquitted a man sentenced to death in a 2014 rape and murder case involving a seven-year-old girl in Uttarakhand, overturning both the trial court’s verdict and the High Court’s confirmation. That same month, the Rajasthan High Court acquitted Arjun Singh, who had been sentenced to death by a POCSO court in Pali for the murder of two siblings and the rape of their sister.‘Conviction-driven’ mindsetFormer Acting Vice-Chancellor of Maharaja Ganga Singh University and senior law teacher Professor Vimlendu Tayal describes a growing “conviction-driven” tendency at the trial court level.“Local outrage, media attention, and the pressure to deliver justice quickly often push trial courts towards conviction rather than caution,” Tayal said. “The focus shifts from whether the prosecution has proved its case beyond reasonable doubt to whether the court has responded strongly enough.”He added that inadequate training and overwhelming workloads worsen the problem. “Thousands of cases are listed before district judges. In such circumstances, it becomes difficult to examine every piece of evidence with the depth that capital punishment demands.”Former Rajasthan High Court judge Justice Gopal Krishna Vyas echoed this concern, emphasising that human emotion is inseparable from judging, particularly at the trial level.“A judge is a human being,” he said. “When a crime involves a Victim child or extreme violence, emotions do play a role. But the law is clear: death penalty must be reserved for the rarest of rare cases. Even a small doubt must tilt the balance in favour of life.”Vyas explained that in cases based on circumstantial evidence, the standard is especially exacting. “The entire chain of evidence must be complete…link to link. If even one link breaks, the case collapses. Many death sentences do not survive appeal because this standard was not met.”The Supreme Court has repeatedly stressed that capital punishment must remain exceptional. The doctrine of “rarest of rare” was articulated in the 1980 Bachan Singh judgment and reaffirmed over decades. More recently, in Manoj vs State of Madhya Pradesh (2022), the court went further, directing trial courts to examine the accused’s life history, conduct and possibility of reform before awarding death.Yet compliance remains limited.According to Project 39A’s Death Penalty in India: Annual Statistics 2024, lower courts have followed the Manoj guidelines in only 7% of death penalty cases since the judgment.“The law has evolved,” said Tayal. “But practice has not kept pace.”Living on death rowWhile acquittals draw public attention, the years preceding them often remain invisible.According to Project 39A’s Death Penalty in India: Annual Statistics 2023, by the end of 2023, 561 prisoners were on death row—the highest number recorded at any year-end in the past two decades. Since 2015, India’s death row population has increased by 45.71%.In 2023, the Supreme Court did not uphold a single death sentence—only the second time this has happened since 2000, after 2021. At the High Court level, only the Karnataka High Court upheld one death sentence, in a simple murder case. Everywhere else, death sentences were either commuted or overturned.The National Crime Records Bureau data corroborates this, showing that the figure of 561 death-row prisoners is the highest recorded for the second time since the beginning of this century.Most of these prisoners will never be executed. According to Lakshmi Menon, Associate at The Squire Circle, NALSAR’s criminal justice initiative, most death sentences in India are eventually converted to life imprisonment—a process that can take many years.But the time spent awaiting that outcome carries its own punishment.Once a death sentence is pronounced, even at the trial stage, many prisoners are placed in separate confinement. Prison conditions vary widely across states. Some jails isolate death-row prisoners completely; others house them with the general population. Funding for food, hygiene and healthcare is often minimal. Mental health support is rare.Women facing death sentences fare worse, with their specific needs frequently ignored.Distance compounds the suffering. Many prisons are located far from prisoners’ homes. Travel costs and bureaucratic hurdles reduce visits or make them impossible. Relationships weaken, sometimes irreparably.By the time an acquittal arrives, the accused may have already lost a decade—or more—of ordinary life.Why higher courts overturn death sentencesAdvocate-on-Record in the Supreme Court Rajendra Singhvi said, “In many cases, the investigation is weak. Forensic evidence is incomplete, digital proof is mishandled, and the crime scene is poorly documented. Public prosecutors are overburdened and underpaid. The system does not give them the resources needed for capital cases.”Singhvi added that institutional capacity and training also play a critical role. “New judicial officers often lack exposure to complex criminal trials. There are fewer public prosecutors and more cases. In Rajasthan High Court, there isn’t even one judge per ten-lakh population. Meanwhile, High Courts and the Supreme Court have more time, research support and legal assistance. That difference matters.”Former District and Sessions Judge Surendra Mohan Sharma pointed to subtler, human pressures that shape decision-making at the trial level.“There is no haste in giving decisions in lower courts, but judges also consider the social environment of that area, general expectations and sensitivity. Suppose an incident happens with a minor girl, people around expect strict action from the court. A judge also has a family, he thinks about his safety and social standing. Such human aspects sometimes make decision-making harsher.”Sharma added that judicial perspective evolves with time and institutional position. “A judge’s mature perspective also changes. When the matter goes to the High Court or Supreme Court, judges there have more time, better resources and legal assistance, they can deliberate deeply on technical and evidence-related points. That is why decisions are overturned. One reason for decisions being overturned is also time…appeals drag on…five to ten years or more.”Appeals, by contrast, unfold in a very different environment.Former Rajasthan High Court judge Justice Gopal Krishna Vyas explained that appellate courts are designed precisely for this purpose. “Their role is not to repeat the trial, but to test it,” he said. “Was evidence ignored? Was it misunderstood? Were legal principles applied correctly?”Vyas outlined how appellate scrutiny works in practice. In High Courts, murder and life imprisonment cases are heard by two-judge benches. If the judges disagree, the matter is referred to a third judge, and the majority view prevails. In the Supreme Court, death sentence appeals are heard by three judges.“The benefit of doubt is fundamental,” Vyas said. “If doubt exists, it must go to the accused. That is not leniency…it is the law.”Former Rajasthan Bar Council chairperson Navrang Chaudhary sees this layered scrutiny as a strength rather than a failure of the justice system.“Every level of the judiciary works towards the same goal: protecting the innocent and arriving at the truth,” Chaudhary said. “Correction is not collapse. It is balance.”Chaudhary recalled a principle long cited in criminal jurisprudence: it is better that several guilty persons escape than that one innocent person be punished.Tayal said the Supreme Court has repeatedly ruled that the death penalty should be imposed only when a crime is extraordinarily harmful to society and there is no possibility of reform. However, he added, lower courts often understand this principle superficially and quickly declare cases to fall within the “rarest of rare” category.Public discomfort with acquittals in heinous crimes is real. But the data suggests that the deeper crisis lies elsewhere: in a system that too often sentences people to death before it is certain of their guilt.The unease, then, may not be about acquittals at all, but about how easily the death penalty is imposed before doubt has been fully addressed.This story was produced for and originally published as part of the Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy. Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva

Playful childhood lost within the prison walls

Children are allowed to stay with their mothers in jail till they attain the age of six, but their days are far from what an ideal carefree childhood would look likeSriganganagar, Rajasthan: Sriganganagar, Rajasthan: Akriti is almost six now, but her childhood has been spent largely inside the prison walls of the Sriganganagar Central Jail in Rajasthan. She has not committed any crime. Her mother, Nisha Munjal (37), is an undertrial arrested on charges of drug trafficking under the Narcotic Drugs and Psychotropic Substances Act (NDPS Act), 1985.Children are allowed to stay with their mothers in jail until they attain the age of six.Of the total 590 inmates lodged in the central jail, 30 are women prisoners. Three of these undertrials currently have one child each living with them in the prison.In September 2024, there were five children inside the jail.Reena (20), arrested on charges of murdering her mother-in-law, gave birth to a boy in jail two months ago. She was recently shifted to the women’s jail in Bikaner to ensure better care for her child. Jaswinder Kaur (31), arrested under the NDPS Act, was granted bail recently. She had entered the jail with her one-month-old son, Pradeep, who turned two while living inside the prison and celebrated two birthdays there. The child has since been able to see the outside world following his mother’s release.“If I get a chance to be released on bail like Jaswinder Kaur, I will be able to send Akriti to school. She can also study like other children,” Nisha said. “I applied for bail several times, but without any positive outcome. Soon, I will apply again. I have full confidence in the court.”The first information report against Nisha was registered at the Sadulshahar police station in Sriganganagar district on September 26, 2020, under Sections 8 and 21 of the NDPS Act. According to the FIR, the police stopped her during patrolling and seized 1,200 Tramadol tablets from her bag during a search. On court orders, she was sent to judicial custody on September 28, 2020, and has been in jail since then.The hearing in her case has been scheduled for January 22. Slow bailsAdvocate Bharat Bhushan Nagpal, who initially represented Nisha, said the police filed a chargesheet in the NDPS court in Sriganganagar after completing the investigation. In 2022, the case was transferred to the court of the Additional District Judge in Sadulshahar.Nisha’s bail pleas have been rejected three times by the trial court and three times by the Rajasthan High Court. In her third bail petition, her lawyer Priya Bishnoi argued that the seizure was illegal because the officer who conducted it was not authorised under Sections 42 and 43 of the NDPS Act, which govern who can carry out searches and seizures and under what circumstances. She also contended that mandatory safeguards under Sections 50 and 52A, relating to an accused person’s right to be searched before a magistrate or gazetted officer and the proper handling and documentation of seized narcotics, had not been followed.“The petitioner has been in custody since September 26 and has a small child with her. The hearing of the case may take a lot of time. Therefore, her third bail petition should be accepted,” she pleaded. Public prosecutor Mukhtiar Khan opposed the bail plea, arguing that the recovery involved a commercial quantity of drugs and that Section 37 of the NDPS Act, which imposes stringent conditions on granting bail in such cases, barred any relief. The High Court rejected the petition on December 1, 2023.Jodhpur-based Bishnoi, who represented Nisha in the third bail plea, says, "The court always considers the merits. It is not necessary that the court should look at any other case with the same approach that it adopts in one case. Judges have different approaches in every case."According to Nisha, while rejecting her second bail petition on March 23, 2023, the HC had directed the trial court to expedite the trial, but the case was not moving forward rapidly in the trial court. Statements of many witnesses are yet to be recorded.​​​  In this regard, advocate Dharmendra Kumar Sharma, who is representing Nisha in the trial court (ADJ court), says the recording of evidence is still going on in the case.Confirming this, public prosecutor Major Singh of the ADJ court confirms that the witnesses are yet to be examined in the case. Jodhpur-based advocate Dron Kaushik, who has represented Nisha in the second bail petition in the HC, says that once the witnesses are examined in the trial court, Nisha should again present a petition for bail. “Often, the changed circumstances of the case also prove to be favourable for bail. Whenever a bail petition comes up for consideration, the court takes into account the circumstantial changes in that case.”Children growing up in prison Nisha’s father-in-law, Chimanlal Munjal (60), says that Nisha has two elder children who live with their maternal grandfather. “They visit us whenever they feel like, but due to illnesses, it is not possible for me and my wife to take care of the children. My son Gaurav is also facing a case under the NDPS Act.”When the case was registered against Nisha, Gaurav was in jail. He was later granted bail. Gaurav has arranged a lawyer for Nisha, and he himself pays the fees of the lawyer. His family hails from Dabli Rathan village in Hanumangarh district.Jail officials claim that they try their best to provide necessary facilities to the children in jail as per the Supreme Court guidelines. "The jail administration provides milk, food, clothes, baby powder, soap and oil for massage, toys, pencils, etc. to the children living with women in the jail, but creche and nursery are not present as there is a lack of space," Jail Superintendent Dr Abhishek Sharma tells 101Reporters. Dr Sharma adds that they try their best for the entertainment and proper upbringing of these children. However, their world is confined within the four walls of the prison, and they are completely unaware of what the outside world is like and how to live there. They do not know anything about relationships.​​​​​ Nisha is happy with the facilities provided for children in jail. Akriti was not born in jail, but Nisha recalls how the doctors in the jail would do routine check-ups when Reena was pregnant. She adds that Reena was taken to a government hospital for her delivery.According to the Prison Statistics of India, 2022, report of the National Crime Records Bureau, 53 women prisoners are living with their 58 children in the jails of Rajasthan. Across the country, a total of 1,537 women are living with their 1,764 children in the country's jails. Of them, the number of undertrial women prisoners is 1,312, and the number of children living with them is 1,479. Similarly, the number of women serving sentences after being convicted is 198, and the number of children living with them is 230. As per the data, the highest number of 325 women in the country are in jails of Uttar Pradesh, with whom their 365 children are living. There are 300 women and their 331 children in Bihar jails, and 160 women and their 213 children in jails of West Bengal. The figures recorded in the report are as of December 31, 2022.  According to the Children of Incarcerated Caregivers-2024 India Prison Nursery Report, India’s prison system faces numerous challenges, including overcrowding, traumagenic conditions, and inadequate facilities. These challenges are particularly acute for mothers in prison, who face unique difficulties in maintaining relationships with their families and accessing the resources they need to care for themselves and their children, and for their children who are socialised in such a punitive environment.Nisha’s daughter lives in a similar environment, unaware of the outside world. Nisha has also seen very little of the world in the last four years because most of her court appearances are through video conferencing. As of now, it is difficult to say when she will be able to see the light of the world.This story was produced for and originally published as part of the Crime and Punishment project in collaboration with Vidhi Centre for Legal Policy. Cover Photo - Representative image/ AI-generated using Canva