How Many More Rajakannus - Arrested By Caste, Beaten By Law Jai Bhim And The Fight For Justice
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HOW MANY MORE RAJAKANNUS? ARRESTED BY CASTE,
BEATEN BY LAW JAI BHIM AND THE FIGHT FOR JUSTICE
Misritha Arvapally, OP Jindal Global University
ABSTRACT
Jai Bhim (2021), a T. J. Gnanavel-directed Tamil film that earned an Oscar nomination, is more than a movie but also a reflection held in front of India's justice system's darkest angles. Adapted from a true 1993 habeas corpus case, the movie is about Rajakannu, an Irular tribal poor man, who is falsely accused of theft, tortured in police custody, and goes missing mysteriously afterward. His wife, Sengeni, pregnant and deemed powerless, chose not to be silent. Her search for justice leads her to Advocate K. Chandru, played with zeal by Suriya, whose legal battle exposes the callous participation of police officers, medical personnel, and officials. This article sees Jai Bhim as more than just a film; it's a legal witness, a political critique, and a social awakening.
It demonstrates how caste, poverty, and unrestrained authority contribute to a judicial system in which the law is influenced by identification rather than evidence. The analysis examines gendered violence, institutional desertion, and the breakdown of accountability when victims are tribal and Dalit bodies, citing constitutional guarantees like Article 21, Section 46(4) CrPC, and key verdicts such as D. K. Basu v. State of West Bengal. Jai Bhim leaves us with a chilling reality that behind each police file labelled "missing" could be a name, a face, and a family still awaiting justice that may never arrive. The film's eerie narrative delivers not just a legal decision, but also a moral verdict. It is a call to recall, reckon, and most importantly, reform.
The film's early scenes reveal the blatant and unabashed targeting of lower caste people, particularly Dalits and Adivasis. Poor Adivasi families are seen waiting miserably outside bars, only to find out that their family members have been relocated to faraway police stations or wrongly accused of manufactured offenses. These are not single instances; rather, they are indicative of an intentional and repeating strategy. Driven by a desire to increase case numbers and a lack of leads in investigations, police often prey on the most vulnerable people. Arrests are not based on evidence or thorough investigation, but rather on social stereotyping and the criminalization of tribal identity. These groups are viewed as suspects rather than citizens with rights, and their quiet can be bribed or bullied into submission.
Outside the jail gates, police officers wait to rebook recently freed individuals in unsolved cases in order to achieve departmental quotas. Bribes and under-the-table dealings occur in broad sight, exposing a system in which justice is diminished to a transaction and the downtrodden are constantly recycled through cycles of cruelty. The dehumanization of the Irula tribe is captured very chillingly when a police officer, pointing at the group of arrested tribals, asks, “Who are they? Are they orphans? ” The reply was “You can say so” reveals how the Indian state views these indigenous groups as stateless, abandoned, and undeserving of rights or protection1. The metaphor of orphan hood is profound. These people do not lack family support; rather, the state has abandoned them.
This "orphaning" indicates a broader inability to incorporate Adivasi lives into the country's political, legal, and developmental framework. Beyond cruelty, the video criticizes the state's abandonment of native populations. Most Adivasis do not have access to basic rights; they do not have leases for their homes, their names are frequently missing from electoral records, and they are barred from participating in the Public Distribution System. Their nomadic lifestyle precludes their children from attending conventional school and they are reduced to informal labour that does not give them long-term employment opportunities. The film portrays all of this with unwavering precision. The structural rejections put them in a more exposed position to police brutality and state 1 Nihal Mohammed, Film Review: Jai Bhim, The Companion (Nov. 11, 2021), https://thecompanion. in/filmreview-jai-bhim.
indifference. They do not suffer the punishment on grounds of crimes committed, but on the basis of who they are- for belonging to the marginalized communities. Jai Bhim paints a striking and unflinching picture of custodial violence and structural oppression of underprivileged people. It is based on the true story of Rajakannu, an Irula tribal daily wage labourer. The cops took him from his workplace without a warrant or explanation, and viciously beat him in public. His only "crime" is his tribal identity and the fact that, according to the system, his life is disposable. This film is not just a legal inquiry, but a well thought-out wave of violence and intimidation. Sengeni (real life Parvathi) is the pregnant wife of Rajakannu, who does not get to know anything about her husband’s arrest.
Rather, she is deceived, intimidated and even arrested at night, which is a gross violation of Section 46(4) of the Code of Criminal Procedure which states that "No woman shall be arrested after sunset and before sunrise, except in exceptional circumstances, and only with the prior permission of a magistrate. " She is physically abused even though she is at the advanced stages of pregnancy. The other relatives of the family such as brother of Rajakannu, Iruttapan, nephew Mosakutty, sister Pachaiyamma and sister-in-law are also illegally arrested. They all undergo a humiliating and inhuman treatment, which is one of the ways in which the police do not only target people, but criminalize whole families and communities according to the caste and identity. The violence intensifies in the police station.
Rajakannu and the rest of the men are beaten to death and stripped naked, and are hung upside down and beaten using iron rods until their skin is torn apart. They also apply chilli paste on their wounds, eyes and genitals. Their pain is overlooked. The goal is not to seek the truth, but to compel confessions and conclude unsettled cases. Torture has become a normal weapon, not for justice, but for creating guilt and sustaining the idea of police efficiency. Jai Bhim is not only a physical violence, but it is gendered as well. The women are specifically attacked in order to crush the communal spirit of the communities.
Sengeni who is heavily pregnant is assaulted in police custody which is unconstitutional as per the provisions of Section 46(4) of the Code of Criminal Procedure that the woman shall not be arrested after sunset and before sunrise except under exceptional circumstances and only with the prior permission of a magistrate. Pachaiyamma is raped in front of her family, and this is a stark reminder that women who belong to the marginalized communities are regarded as easy prey, whose dignity is not only taken away and no consequences are faced for doing so. Another woman also gives a statement in the court about how she was raped in order to force her husband to confess. They are not accidental acts of violence, but well-planned instruments of subjugation. The film demonstrates how abuse against women's bodies may be used to silence entire communities.
The abuse does not stop even when Rajakannu dies in the torture. The police dump his body in a secret place and lie that he escaped from custody. The crime is covered with a registration of a “missing man” case. There is tampering of medical records, witnesses are threatened and the post mortem report manipulated so as to conceal the evidence of torture. The boss of Rajakannu has no choice but to lie that he has seen Rajakannu after his so-called escape. The whole system of the state involving the police officers, doctors, clerks and bureaucrats join forces to cover up the killers and suppress the truth. The next thing that happens in the film Jai Bhim is a strong and compelling legal fight led by Advocate Chandru played by an actor Suriya who was based on a real-life Justice K. Chandru.
Sengeni with help of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) turns to Advocate Chandru who immediately presents a petition of habeas corpus in the Madras High Court, to produce Rajakannu whether alive or dead. This legal actions opens a wider look into the disappearance of Rajakannu and harassment of his family. Later in the development of the case, CB CID is summoned and looks into the claims of torture in custody. A big breakthrough comes in when an unknown body is found on the roadside. Forensic examination reveals that the corpse belongs to Rajakannu and it is also evident that the body was tortured. The ensuing trial in the court reveals how far police abuse goes. A CBI officer is the witness who reports that Rajakannu and his family members were wrongly accused of a case of theft and Rajakannu was brutally tortured into death after he was taken into custody.
More incriminating evidence comes out in the course of trial. The doctor who has conducted the post-mortem examination, under the cross-examination by the Advocate Chandru, acknowledges that the injuries received by Rajakannu like a fractured rib may be pointing to possible severe beatings. The forensic evidence too proves the use of a chilli paste to his wounds, the tyre marks that matched the police van as well as the shoe prints at the scene that matched those of the senior officer Inspector Gurumurthy. Under further interrogation, the doctor reluctantly admits that such injuries may have happened as a result of being run down by a vehicle but at the same time they are also in agreement with the type of custodial violence which the witnesses are alluding.
At the end, the court comes to a conclusion that indeed Rajakannu was murdered in custody and a case of theft was fabricated to cover up his unlawful detention and eventual death. This leads to the conviction of five police officers who are jailed at 14 years and the doctor who faked the medical report jailed for 3 years. This is a unique case of institutional responsibility in an institution that has failed in many times to bring justice to the downtrodden. One enlightening thing in the film Jai Bhim is that this tragedy is not presented as a freak of injustice. Rather it clarifies that this is pattern goes deep into the caste, class and institutional bias. The movie starts with the scene in which the upper caste prisoners are being released and tribals are kept back and re-booked in fresh cases. Money is exchanged in the daylight.
What comes out is that justice is not blind but it is caste-coded. In a written response to a Lok Sabha question, Minister of State for Home Affairs Nityanand Rai stated that 348 persons died in police custody between 2018 and 2020, and over 1,189 were tortured while in jail. 2 These data, which are certainly underreported, demonstrate how custodial violence is not incidental, but rather systemic. Terms like “encounter killing” and “custodial death” have now become part of India’s daily vocabulary. As Justice N. V. Ramana noted in 2021, even the privileged ones are now vulnerable to “third-degree” treatment. 3 For the voiceless at the bottom, the situation is far worse. In D. K. Basu v. State of West Bengal (1997)4, in response to the increasing custodial deaths, the Supreme Court stated that Article 21 of the Constitution was being infringed by custodial violence.
It has come up with 12 binding guidelines to control arrests and detention, among them being preparation of arrest memos, notifying family or friends, medical examination at least after 48 hours, access to lawyers and proper police records. Such preventive measures 2 Naxal violence down by 77% between 2010 and 2022, Govt. tells Lok Sabha, The Hindu (Mar. 14, 2023), https://www. thehindu. com/news/national/naxal-violence-down-by-77-between-2010-and-2022-govt-tells-loksabha/article66618779. ece. 3Krishnadas Rajagopal, Threat to human rights is highest in police stations: CJI, The Hindu (Aug. 8, 2021), https://www. thehindu. com/news/national/threat-to-human-rights-is-highest-in-police-stationscji/article35798809. ece.
4 AIR 1997 SUPREME COURT 610
were meant to safeguard the citizens, although, as is the case in Jai Bhim, they fail to work due to lack of proper implementation in the event of institutional impunity. Section 211 IPC (Section 248 BNS): False Accusation with Intent to Injure punishes a person who with intent to cause injury falsely institutes any criminal proceeding, or falsely makes any criminal charge, when he knows that there is no legal foundation thereto. The penalty goes up to two years in the case of ordinary offences and up to seven years with fine in case the false accusation is in respect to a serious offence that is punishable by death, life imprisonment or seven years or more. But Jai Bhim shows the shortcoming of this provision, where even the state machinery itself is involved in falsely implicating the accused, Section 211 can no longer be used to defend the marginalized. Veteran communist leader K. R.
Gowri Amma, who was repeatedly tortured in the 1950s, once stated out of tortured situation ‘If police lathis had sperm, I would have given birth to a thousand lathis’. 5 Her bitter sarcasm is not a relic of the past but it echoes in the lived experiences of countless marginalized citizens even today. Jai Bhim does not only pass a judgment in the court in its last scenes but also a judgment in morality. The justice is achieved through the legal system, which is slow to act and often indifferent, but it still is achieved by means of endless struggle, protest, and advocacy. It is a win to Sengeni and to all those like her who do not accept to be silenced, who want to know what happened, and who struggle against all odds towards responding to their communities with dignity. Jai Bhim is a filmic condemnation of casteism ridden institutions of India.
It makes us raise the hard questions: What is the situation when those who are supposed to uphold the law turn out to be its breakers? And what hope is there of the powerless, the poor and the voiceless? And most importantly, how many more Rajakannus should die before we as the society come to the realization that justice delayed is not only justice denied but in most cases justice buried?
5 Shinie Antony, When feminists fall in love, (May 16, 2021),
https://www.newindianexpress.com/magazine/voices/2021/May/16/when-feminists-fall-in-love-2302201.html.