India’s Supreme Court delivered a landmark ruling in the long-running 2020 Northeast Delhi riots conspiracy case, refusing bail to two prominent student activists, Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam, while granting conditional bail to five other accused individuals. This decision sparked intense debate nationwide and internationally.
The judgment has reopened fundamental questions about the relationship between national security laws, personal liberty, dissent, and the constitutional role of the judiciary itself. In this controversy lies a troubling paradox: while the trial has yet to conclude even after several years, the accused continue to remain incarcerated under a legal framework that makes bail the exception rather than the rule. In effect, the process itself begins to resemble punishment.
Background of the Case and Arrests
In February 2020, communal violence erupted in parts of Northeast Delhi, leaving over 50 people dead and hundreds injured. In the aftermath, the Delhi Police put forth a “larger conspiracy” theory, alleging that the riots were not spontaneous but ignited by a network of activists who had planned to destabilise the state under the guise of protest.
Khalid and Imam, both former students of Jawaharlal Nehru University and prominent voices in anti-CAA mobilisations, were arrested under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), India’s primary anti-terror legislation. Since then, they have remained in custody.
Their cases moved through multiple courts over the years, with repeated bail applications across trial courts, the Delhi High Court, and finally the Supreme Court, but without relief.
Supreme Court Verdict: Bail Denied for Khalid & Imam
On 5 January 2026, a bench of Justices Aravind Kumar and N.V. Anjaria delivered a detailed 140-page ruling stating:
The Court denied bail to Umar Khalid and Sharjeel Imam, holding that the prima facie material placed by the prosecution disclosed a case under Section 43D(5) of the UAPA, which creates a substantive bar to bail in cases involving security and sovereignty offences.
The Court emphasised that at the bail stage, it is not required to test the credibility of evidence or assess guilt. Instead, it must only determine whether the prosecution’s version, on its face, discloses the commission of offences under the Act.
Applying this limited scrutiny, the Court concluded that Khalid and Imam occupied a more “central” role in the alleged conspiracy than some of their co-accused, several of whom were granted bail. Their speeches, meetings, and alleged coordination were viewed as sufficient to cross the prima facie threshold required by the statute.
Crucially, the Court rejected the argument that prolonged incarceration alone, now stretching close to six years, automatically violates constitutional guarantees. While acknowledging that long detention is a serious concern, the judgment held that delay must be assessed in light of the nature of the offence, legislative intent, and the specific role attributed to each accused.
Judicial Restraint or Constitutional Abdication?
Supporters of the judgment frame it as an example of judicial restraint, a court respecting the will of Parliament and the statutory limits imposed by anti-terror law. From this perspective, the judiciary’s role is not to rewrite legislation but to apply it faithfully, even when the consequences are harsh.
However, many constitutional scholars see something more troubling: a gradual abdication of the Court’s role as the ultimate guardian of personal liberty. They point out that Article 21 of the Constitution guarantees not merely life and liberty, but liberty according to just, fair, and reasonable procedure.
When trials are indefinitely delayed, evidence remains untested, and incarceration becomes open-ended, the distinction between pre-trial detention and punishment begins to collapse. In such situations, critics argue, constitutional courts are duty-bound to intervene, even within restrictive statutory frameworks.
This also raises uncomfortable questions. Is ideological prominence being mistaken for criminal gravity? Are speeches and associations being treated as proxies for violence? And does the law, as applied, disproportionately penalise those who articulate dissent more effectively?
Beyond legal doctrine lies the human reality. Years of imprisonment without trial have consequences that cannot be undone: academic careers derailed, families strained, and mental and physical health compromised. Even an eventual acquittal cannot restore lost time.
This reality has led many to argue that in UAPA cases, bail jurisprudence has effectively inverted the presumption of innocence. The accused are required to wait for years to prove their innocence, rather than being free unless proven guilty.
Looking Ahead
The Supreme Court has technically left the door open for future bail applications, allowing Khalid and Imam to re-approach the courts after further progress in the trial. But given the pace of proceedings and the complexity of the case, meaningful relief may still be far away.
More broadly, the judgment is likely to shape how courts interpret UAPA in years to come, especially in cases involving protests, political speech, and mass movements. It reinforces a legal environment in which liberty increasingly depends not on the strength of evidence tested in court, but on the severity of allegations asserted by the state.