A West Bengal government circular has enabled jail superintendents to restrict phone access for prisoners accused under the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act, anti-terror laws or of waging war against the state, cutting off a communication channel that families and lawyers had previously used from prison phone booths. The measure, introduced after electronic devices were reportedly recovered from the cell of life convict Aftab Ansari, raises a wider question about how correctional systems balance security controls with the everyday administrative needs of imprisonment.
According to the report, the restrictions took effect from August 30, 2026. The circular, numbered 2786-IGP-2026 and issued by the Inspector General of Correctional Services on August 29, leaves the provision or denial of telephone facilities for prisoners accused of heinous crimes to the discretion of the jail superintendent. The reported change appears to apply to a broad category of prisoners rather than only to the individual from whose cell the gadgets were recovered.
Before the reported restriction, prisoners were allowed to make calls at their own expense from prison phone booths to three pre-registered numbers. Those numbers could include family members, friends, lawyers and human rights activists. The withdrawal of that facility has consequently altered not only personal communication but also the way families and representatives remain connected with people held in correctional homes.
The immediate trigger cited by prison officials was the recovery of cellphones and other electronic items from Ansari’s cell. Ansari is serving a life sentence in the American Centre attack case. The report does not provide details of the recovery operation, the specific security breach identified by the authorities, or whether an internal inquiry was ordered. It also does not record a public explanation from the government on why the restriction was extended to prisoners in other cases.
That gap is central to understanding the administrative issue. A prison telephone system is not simply a convenience service. It is a controlled facility that uses pre-registered numbers and, as described in the report, operates at the prisoner’s expense. The system is designed to permit contact while retaining an institutional check on whom a prisoner can call. The new arrangement places the decision to allow or deny calls with the superintendent for prisoners in a defined set of cases, making local administrative discretion the key filter between a prisoner and the outside world.
The people affected include prisoners detained on suspicion of being Maoists and prisoners described in the report as Islamic terrorists, as well as those charged under the UAPA, other anti-terror provisions or offences involving alleged waging of war against the state. The report refers to political prisoners among those affected. These descriptions concern the categories used in the account and do not establish guilt in individual cases.
The geography of West Bengal’s prison network makes the communication question more consequential. The report identifies prisoners housed far from their homes: Narayan Mahato, a resident of Purulia, is detained at Dum Dum Central Correctional Home; Arnab Dam, whose home is in Garia, is held in Burdwan Jail; and Mansaram Hembram, from Medinipur, is lodged at Presidency Jail in Kolkata. These examples show how the location of a correctional home can turn a phone call into an important substitute for an expensive and time-consuming journey.
For families with limited resources, distance can determine whether contact is regular or occasional. A visit requires travel, time and compliance with prison procedures. Where a prisoner is held outside the family’s home district, the loss of a phone facility can make the correctional institution more physically and socially remote. The report does not provide data on the number of prisoners affected, the number of prisons applying the restriction, or the duration for which calls have been denied. Without those figures, the scale of the change cannot be quantified from the available information.
The account of Dibakar Mahato illustrates the impact at household level. Mahato told the newspaper that he had been unable to keep in touch with his father, Narayan Mahato, since the telephone facility was withdrawn. His statement describes a direct consequence of a policy that may otherwise appear in administrative language as a change in access rules: the interruption of contact between a family member and a prisoner held in a distant correctional home.
The second institutional question concerns lawyers. The earlier phone arrangement reportedly allowed calls to lawyers through pre-registered numbers. The report does not establish how legal consultations are otherwise arranged, whether in-person legal meetings have increased, or whether any alternative communication mechanism has been created for prisoners affected by the circular. It does, however, identify lawyers among the users who could previously be contacted through the prison phone booths. That makes the restriction relevant to the functioning of correctional administration beyond family welfare.
The Association for Protection of Democratic Rights has criticised the decision. Its vice-president, Ranjit Sur, said the withdrawal had isolated the prisoners from families and lawyers and generated dissatisfaction among prisoners and relatives. He argued that action could be taken against an individual prisoner if that person violated prison rules, rather than removing the facility from everyone in the category. Sur described the telephone as a vital lifeline for prisoners.
His criticism identifies the policy’s central design choice: whether a security breach should produce an individual disciplinary response or a category-wide restriction. The reported circular does not, in the material available here, explain the criteria a superintendent must apply, the evidence required before denying calls, the duration of a restriction, or the process for review. Those details would determine how consistently the measure is applied across prisons and whether affected prisoners and families can seek reconsideration.
The change also illustrates the difference between a formal facility and its actual accessibility. The earlier system had safeguards in the form of three pre-registered numbers and prison phone booths. Yet access under the new arrangement depends on the superintendent’s decision for prisoners accused of heinous crimes. This shifts the operational burden from a standardised communication facility to case-by-case prison administration. The report does not say whether written reasons must be recorded or whether the decision is subject to oversight by the Inspector General of Correctional Services.
The government circular is therefore the key document for assessing how the policy works in practice. Its language, the categories it covers, the discretion it grants and any review provisions would establish whether the restriction is temporary, conditional or open-ended. The supplied report identifies the circular and its number but does not reproduce its complete text. The government’s explanation for the measure, including any data on recovered devices or reported misuse of the phone system, is also not included.
What is established is narrower but significant. West Bengal’s correctional authorities reportedly withdrew phone access from a broad group of high-security prisoners after electronic items were recovered from one prisoner’s cell. The change affects family contact and may affect communication with lawyers and rights organisations. Several prisoners cited in the report are held far from their home districts, increasing the practical importance of a controlled telephone facility. The decision has also transferred substantial responsibility to jail superintendents without publicly described criteria in the material available.
The larger urban and institutional issue is how correctional infrastructure manages security without allowing distance and administrative discretion to sever routine contact. Prisons are often located away from the communities from which prisoners come. In that setting, communication systems form part of the social infrastructure of custody. When those systems are restricted, the consequences extend beyond prison walls to families who must travel, lawyers who need access and institutions responsible for monitoring detention conditions.
The next point requiring scrutiny is not whether prisons should control electronic devices; the reported recovery of such devices explains why authorities acted. It is how the response is limited, recorded and reviewed. The available account does not establish whether the phone curbs will remain in force, whether affected prisoners can regain access after individual assessment, or whether the state will issue further instructions. Those administrative details will determine whether the circular functions as a targeted security measure or as a prolonged category-wide withdrawal of communication.
For now, the evidence points to a policy shift in West Bengal’s jails: a previously available, controlled phone facility has been curtailed for prisoners in specified security-related categories, with decisions left to jail superintendents. The effects are already visible in the reported inability of families such as the Mahatos to maintain contact. The circular’s full safeguards, implementation data and the government’s response remain necessary to judge the measure’s reach and durability.
