A prison is often viewed as a place to lock people up. For Anilkumar K, however, it was a place to unlock possibilities. During a 26-year career that took him through 14 prisons across eight districts in Kerala, he strived to turn them into “campuses” of reformation. An approach that saw initiatives such as Freedom Chapati, Share Meal, prison bands, film festivals, organic farming, and self-sustainable jails. In this conversation with TNIE, Anilkumar, who recently retired as the superintendent of Viyyur Central Prison, opens up on his career journey, issues faced by Kerala’s prisons, heinous crimes, views on second chances, and more
People’s perception of prisons is largely shaped by films. How different is reality?
Entirely different. People imagine a Mohanlal or Mammootty character entering prison, changing into a uniform and being sent to break rocks in a quarry. In reality, there are no such prison quarries in Kerala, or even in south India. The very idea of prisons has changed. Earlier, it was the Jail Department. Today it is the Prisons and Correctional Services Department. A prison is no longer expected to be merely a place of confinement; it is meant to be a correctional institution. I have always looked at a prison as a campus. Many inmates are young, especially those booked under the NDPS Act. The challenge is to channel their talent and energy positively.
People also misunderstand our role. We are not police officers. We are correctional officers who form one of the pillars of the criminal justice system.
How is prison administration different from policing?
The recruitment and training are entirely different. I joined as a sub-inspector through the PSC. Officers from the southern states undergo specialised training at the Academy of Prisons and Correctional Administration in Vellore, where they study psychology, criminology and correctional administration.
What is Kerala’s current prison population?
Kerala has 57 prisons housing more than 12,000 inmates. Convicted prisoners are lodged in central prisons, where the emphasis is on correction and rehabilitation.
Ironically, we have no system to measure rehabilitation. We simply do not know how many inmates genuinely reform after release.
Could you give us a breakdown of the nature of cases?
Nearly 45 per cent of Kerala’s prison population consists of inmates booked under the NDPS Act and the Pocso Act. The second-largest category comprises migrant workers from other states and foreign nationals. At Viyyur Central Prison alone, there are around 85 foreign inmates from nearly 20 countries. It is almost like a miniature world.
Did that diversity influence your rehabilitation programmes?
Yes. We even organised an international film festival inside the prison centred on positive themes. When ‘Marco’ was released, there was debate about whether violent films encourage violence. But the reverse can also be true. Good cinema, music, literature and art can influence people positively.
We organised storytelling competitions and created an audiobook project in which inmates narrated their own life stories in their own languages. I still remember one inmate from Congo. He spoke entirely in his native language for nearly six minutes. None of us understood a word, yet the entire audience listened in complete silence. By the end, many had tears in their eyes. It was like a catharsis for many. Human stories transcend language.
Some prisoners have written books while in prison...
Yes. ‘Aadu’ Antony wrote about his criminal past, and the book was published successfully. Maniyanpillai’s autobiography became a bestseller. Maoist Rupesh, who was recently released, also completed a manuscript while he was in prison. Certain sections criticised the government and prison administration, The government decided not to permit its publication.
Are prisoners periodically assessed by psychologists or other experts?
Not in a systematic, scientific manner. However, there is a remission system. Prisoners earn remission for good conduct and productive work — typically two days for prison work and another two days for good behaviour every month.
Is religious counselling available in prisons?
Yes, though I would not describe it as formal counselling. Christian organisations, particularly Jesus Fraternity, regularly visit prisons. Volunteers and nuns conduct Mass on Sundays, counsel prisoners who wish to participate and often help support their families.
You have often argued that some prisoners spend far too long behind bars. Why?
Because I believe excessively long imprisonment can itself become a form of injustice. The public usually remembers only the crime. But not everyone serving a life sentence is a habitual criminal. There are inmates in Kerala who have spent more than 35 years in prison. Around a dozen have completed over 20 years, and four have spent more than three decades behind bars.
Life imprisonment technically means imprisonment for the remainder of one’s natural life. Yet after 14 years of actual imprisonment, cases can be placed before the advisory board for consideration. Take the case of Sherin. She was released after 14 years because she was a woman. In the Karnavar case, she was the first accused. She secured release, while the second and third accused remain in prison. Fate works in strange ways. The same is true in some political cases, where certain prisoners are released earlier than others.
Who decides whether one deserves early release?
Premature release is considered by an advisory committee comprising the Director General of Prisons, the district collector, the superintendent of police, judicial representatives and other nominated members. The prison department prepares a detailed report on every eligible inmate, documenting conduct, discipline, work and overall behaviour inside prison.
How impartial is this committee, especially in politically sensitive districts such as Kannur?
Decisions are taken by majority. Naturally, depending on the composition of the board, there can be situations where the ruling establishment has influence.
Is it appropriate for politicians to serve on these boards? People often cite the example of CPM leader P Jayarajan being part of a committee...
Personally, I am against it. When P Jayarajan was in prison in 2012, I was serving there. We certainly need non-official members on the board, but they should ideally be people trained in psychology, criminology or correctional administration. The prison administration’s assessment should also carry greater weight.
What’s your view on the death penalty?
I do not support capital punishment. History has shown that innocent people have been sentenced to death. How do we reverse that? When I was posted in Kannur, I went through execution registers from the 1930s and 1940s. Executions were frighteningly common. There were days when two people were hanged on the same day. Both Kannur and Thiruvananthapuram prisons had double gallows. Today, the death penalty is reserved for the “rarest of rare” cases, and rightly so.
How many death-row prisoners are there in Kerala currently?
I believe there are 17 death-row prisoners. The longest-serving one is the convict in the Aluva Antony massacre case, though the execution has been stayed.
How can prison time be used productively instead of simply confining convicts?
A prison should not simply consume taxpayers’ money. Wherever possible, it should become self-sufficient. Take the Freedom Chapathi initiative. We sold chapatis for just Rs 2 each and it became a hit. The brand name itself carried a certain irony — ‘Freedom’. If someone has committed a crime, the productive years of imprisonment should benefit society while also helping compensate victims. Meaningful work gives inmates dignity, discipline and purpose.
How far did you succeed in making prisons self-reliant?
In some prisons, we managed to achieve 30 to 40 per cent self-sufficiency. When I took charge of the Palakkad District Jail after it shifted to its eight-acre campus at Malampuzha, the land was almost barren.
We began vegetable cultivation, meeting about a quarter of our requirements. A dairy farm supplied nearly 25 per cent of our milk. A biogas plant converted waste into enough fuel to meet our entire cooking requirement.
With KSEB’s support, we installed a 78-kilowatt solar power plant that generated around one-fifth of our electricity. At Viyyur, we harvested around 65 tonnes of vegetables annually. We became self-sufficient in milk and reared goats, pigs and poultry. Some of the produce was consumed inside the prison while the surplus was sold.
How large is the Viyyur prison campus?
It covers 138 acres — larger than the Vatican, which is about 101 acres. So we like to joke that we have “one-and-a-half popes” inside (laughs). The campus houses five institutions: the Central Prison, the High Security Prison, the Sub Jail, the Women’s Prison and the District Jail.
Critics argue that prisons have become too comfortable. There are a lot of memes about the food served...
Yes, prison food has improved (smiles). It is prepared according to official nutrition guidelines. Inmates get fish twice a week and mutton once a week.
If prisons provide good food and decent facilities, doesn’t that undermine the idea of punishment?
Punishment is the loss of liberty, not poor living conditions. Imagine staying in a luxurious suite but not being allowed to leave. How long would those comforts matter once your freedom had been taken away?
People often point to convicts such as Govindachamy who appear healthy after years in prison...
Society’s anger is understandable. But imprisonment cannot become vigilante justice. Its purpose is to deprive criminals of liberty, maintain discipline and, wherever possible, prepare them to return as better human beings. That is why inmates are encouraged to work. They earn wages — currently around Rs 530 to Rs 560 a day.
At Viyyur, the annual wage bill itself was around Rs 10 crore. The overall non-salary expenditure was another Rs 11 to Rs 12 crore. Until recently, part of those expenses was offset through prison industries and agricultural income. Later, we were instructed to rely solely on government funding.
Kerala’s prisons are reported to be overcrowded. How serious is the problem?
Prisons designed for 600 inmates often house nearly 1,200. The increase in NDPS and Pocso cases has resulted in a steady inflow of prisoners.
Across India, prisons accommodate around four lakh inmates despite having an authorised capacity of only about 2.75 lakh. Having said that, Kerala’s prisons remain among the best maintained in the country.
You also served as the special officer of the High Security Prison. What makes it different?
It was built for a specific purpose — to prevent prisoners accused of terrorism or extremist activities from influencing the general prison population. Unfortunately, the legal framework has not fully caught up. We still need dedicated rules governing the functioning of high-security prisons. The facility, built at a cost of around Rs 30 crore, can house more than 500 inmates, but only about half that number is occupied. Most inmates are booked under the UAPA or have been transferred from other prisons.
Are concerns about radicalisation inside prisons a real threat?
Very much so. Maoists at least claim to be guided by a pro-poor ideology. Religious extremists are different. Some families even celebrate their imprisonment as though it were a sacrifice for a ‘larger cause’ and continue sending them money.
Can prisoners spend money they receive from outside?
Yes. An inmate can spend up to Rs 1,200 a month at the prison canteen and Rs 450 on telephone calls. Most ordinary prisoners use the wages they earn inside prison.
Mobile phones and drugs continue to be recovered from prisons. Why is it so difficult to stop contraband?
No large prison anywhere in the world is completely free of contraband. Mobile phones, narcotics and other prohibited items remain a challenge everywhere.
Films portray prisons as places where gangs rule from inside...
That’s cinematic exaggeration. Gangsters do exist inside prison, just as political prisoners do. But it is not as though they have a royal time inside. That said, managing rival gangs is never easy. A few years ago, one gangster allegedly attempted to murder another inside prison. The injured inmate was taken to hospital, where another gangster, disguised as a visitor, tried to attack him again.
There are also attempts to smuggle contraband over prison walls. Some inmates conceal mobile phones, batteries or narcotics inside their bodies. Others exploit hospital visits to maintain criminal contacts or smuggle in contraband. Criminals are always trying to stay one step ahead. Even with CCTV surveillance, a prisoner who has spent years inside may know the prison better than perhaps even me.
Understaffing has also been raised as a major challenge...
Without doubt. For example, a prison housing 1,200 inmates may have fewer than 150 staff members.During the day, perhaps only 40 officers are actually on duty. At night, the number may fall to around 20, with barely 10 officers actively monitoring more than 1,000 inmates. Also, prisons depend heavily on skilled inmates for administrative work.
Are criminals generally intelligent?
Many are highly skilled. There was once an inmate known as ‘Thakkol’ (Key) Moideen. People joked that he could open a lock simply by looking at it. Another inmate, Sethu, who was convicted of theft, could repair almost anything, especially vehicles. Once, we had planned to auction an old Maruti Gypsy for around Rs 25,000. Sethu restored it so well that it eventually fetched Rs 1.25 lakh. Similarly, there are skilled masons, welders, electricians, mechanics and craftsmen inside our prisons.
Pulsar Suni is in Viyyur prison. Did he divulge to you any details regarding the actor abduction case?
Yes, he did make some grave claims before us. But as the case remains sub judice, it would be inappropriate to discuss those matters here.
Kerala has seen a sharp rise in Pocso cases. Did your years in prison reveal any common patterns among those accused?
Child sexual abuse is among the gravest crimes imaginable — no less than murder. Some offenders are habitual predators. But there are also cases that are far more complicated than they first appear. I remember an inmate in Wayanad who told me he had married in his 20s.
According to him, his wife’s younger sister, allegedly a minor, later fell in love with him and threatened suicide if she was not allowed to marry him. The families eventually agreed to marriage, but a complaint was filed by social activists and he spent nearly two years in prison before securing bail. There was another case involving a migrant family from Chhattisgarh.
The woman was allegedly a minor. She and the child were shifted to a shelter, while the husband was arrested under the Pocso Act and spent two years in prison. By the time he came out on bail, she had turned 18. I am not saying they were innocent. But these experiences remind me of the human complexities behind criminal cases. The same applies to murder cases. Many inmates insist they acted in self-defence or while protecting their families. Prison officers often hear such stories.
We have heard of inmates giving ‘special treatment’ to those convicted of heinous crimes...
It does happen. Prisoners accused in Pocso cases, especially, are sometimes assaulted by self-righteous fellow inmates.
Can offenders really be reformed?
Psychology teaches us that there is no such thing as a born criminal.
Some psychologists argue that serial killers and paedophiles may have an innate predisposition...
That may be true in some cases. Child sexual abuse is an entirely different category of offence. It reflects a deeply deranged mindset. But capital punishment is not the solution.
Was there a moment that convinced you correctional work actually succeeds?
Yes. While serving at the Viyyur District Jail, we made a seven-minute short film titled ‘RP 1987’. I developed the concept, and an inmate with filmmaking experience helped produce it. The story follows a young prisoner who learns aluminium fabrication in prison and later builds a respectable life after his release. A few years later, I read in a newspaper that he had indeed started a fabrication business and was doing well. Rehabilitation had become reality.
Was there another inmate who left a lasting impression?
Around 2010, after the KAAPA Act came into force, we organised an Art of Living programme for inmates detained under the Goonda Act. Initially, I had to force many of them to attend. They were hostile — exactly like the goons you see in films. By the end of the week, however, I felt I could see a visible change. One participant was later released. Soon afterwards, old rivals tried to provoke him into a fight. He calmly asked, “What do you want me to do now?” The rage simply dissolved. Hearing about that was deeply satisfying.
What do you think is the root cause of people turning to crime?
Crime rarely emerges in isolation. As children, many of us might have secretly taken money from our parents to buy ice cream or watch a film. We were scolded, perhaps punished, but we also knew there was someone who cared for us. Now imagine a child growing up without emotional support, financial security or hope. Sustained desperation and frustration alter behaviour. We cannot ignore the poverty, broken families, lack of education and absence of affection that often shape the path to crime. The prison system should never lose sight of that humanity. Ultimately, we are dealing with fellow human beings. People are sent to prison as punishment, not for punishment.
After nearly three decades in the prison service, how would you sum up your guiding philosophy?
I have always believed in one principle: “Hate the sin, not the sinner.”