By Moumita Barman
In September 2025, two seemingly unrelated headlines captured the essence of India’s troubled criminal justice system. The first: Abdul Wahid Shaikh, the only man acquitted in the 2006 Mumbai train blasts, sought Rs. 9 crores as compensation for the years he spent in jail, alleging “brutal custodial torture” that left him physically broken and socially stigmatised. The second: the Supreme Court directed all High Courts to decide bail applications within two months, observing that “applications concerning personal liberty cannot be kept pending for years.”
Both stories circle back to a sobering truth confirmed by the Status of Policing in India Report (SPIR) 2025—custodial torture is not an aberration; it is a common feature of policing in India. It is normalised, rationalised, and disproportionately inflicted on the poor and marginalised. And unless India reforms its police training and accountability systems, we will continue to recycle injustice under the guise of law enforcement.
The normalisation of torture
The SPIR 2025 begins with an uncomfortable reminder: while the Constitution bans torture, its practice is “so routine that we often fail to see something amiss.” For many police personnel, beating up a suspect is not just acceptable but smart policing. Nearly two-thirds of officers surveyed said it is alright to use violence against suspects in serious offences “for the greater good of society.” The report also indicates that IPS officers, the country’s best-trained law enforcers, are among the most likely to justify third-degree methods not just in terror cases but even for petty crimes.
This misplaced justification, that torture is reserved for the “worst criminals,” simply does not hold up to evidence. As the report shows, victims of custodial violence are overwhelmingly from marginalised communities: petty shopkeepers, autorickshaw drivers, Dalit youth, Muslims, and slum dwellers. A vegetable vendor in Unnao beaten to death during COVID curfews, a student killed after protesting desecration of the Constitution, or a daily wager brutalised over theft¾these are the real faces of torture.
The myth that torture is a necessary evil to fight terrorism collapses in the light of Abdul Wahid Shaikh’s story. Wrongly accused of one of India’s deadliest terror attacks, he spent nine years in prison, endured brutal custodial violence, and emerged not only acquitted but permanently scarred. His plea for compensation is more than personal justice; it is an indictment of a system that relies on forced confessions rather than evidence and destroys innocent lives in the process.
Symptom of broken justice system
Why does torture persist? Because it substitutes for real investigation. The SPIR 2025 shows that nearly 70% of police personnel consider confessional statements “very important” to crack a case. In other words, violence becomes a tool for investigation. Coupled with a slow-moving judicial system, this creates a powerful incentive for the police to resort to brutal shortcuts rather than conducting proper inquiries.
The Supreme Court’s recent order on bail pleas is a step in the right direction. It reminds courts that liberty cannot be left in abeyance while files gather dust. Prolonged pre-trial detention creates fertile ground for custodial abuse: when suspects are locked away indefinitely, the police can coerce confessions at will. Speedy decisions on bail will not end torture, but they will shrink the window of unaccountable custody in which torture thrives. Yet, judicial safeguards alone cannot solve a crisis sustained by impunity on the ground. But judicial timelines are only part of the puzzle. Accountability is another. Between 2011 and 2022, India recorded 1,107 deaths in police custody. Not one police officer was convicted. This culture of impunity, where torture is hidden, denied, or written off as “disciplinary zeal,” emboldens officers and erodes public trust.
Poor pay the highest price
The most damning revelation of SPIR 2025 is that torture does not fall evenly across society. Those with money, connections, or privilege can secure bail quickly, hire lawyers, or grease palms. The poor, by contrast, are easy targets: they cannot afford lawyers, have no political patronage, and often live in areas heavily policed as “breeding grounds of crime.”
This class bias explains why even children, women, and people with mental illness are brutalised for minor offences. It also explains why cases of custodial deaths rarely spark national outrage unless caught on camera. Violence is invisible because its victims are disposable in the eyes of the system. This asymmetry is starkly visible in cases like Abdul Wahid Shaikh’s, where acquittal did not erase stigma or hardship.
Reform must begin now
If torture is normalized in police stations, it is partly because police training often prioritizes confessions over careful evidence-gathering. While SPIR 2025 found that many personnel acknowledge the importance of human rights and modern investigative methods, these trainings are frequently overshadowed by on-the-ground practices that reward rapid confessions. The result: coercion is implicitly legitimised as a practical tool, even when official curricula emphasize alternatives.
Still, there is a glimmer of hope: police know they need better tools. Scientific investigation, DNA testing, cyber forensics, and psychological profiling cannot be replaced by beatings and intimidation. Yet, training budgets remain negligible, and promotions still reward “results” measured by confessions or encounter killings.
India must overhaul its training academies to emphasise constitutional policing. Officers should be evaluated not just on crime control but on adherence to legal safeguards. International best practices, from video-recorded interrogations to independent custody monitoring, must be standardised. And above all, India must quickly ratify the UN Convention Against Torture (UNCAT) and pass a domestic anti-torture law that criminalises such practices explicitly.
A constitutional crisis
Torture is not just a policing issue; it is a constitutional crisis that replaces the rule of law with fear. Judicial directives on bail, stronger accountability for custodial deaths, and investment in modern, rights-based policing must converge to end impunity. India cannot call itself a true democracy while normalising custodial torture; breaking the cycle requires replacing brutality with professionalism and impunity with constitutional safeguards.
Moumita Barman is a Senior Research Associate at the Centre for Development Policy and Practice (CDPP) in Hyderabad. CDPP is an independent research organisation working to influence public policy with a focus on the development of vulnerable populations.
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