Scars Of 17 Years Will Remain: Aparna Purohit On Lt Col Purohit's Imprisonment In 2008 Malegaon Case

I remember those endless nights. I write these words from a place of deep, lingering pain, a pain that time dulls but never truly erases.

My husband, Lieutenant Colonel Prasad Shrikant Purohit, joined the Indian Army in 1994 and served in military intelligence. He was posted in different parts of the country, including a tenure in Jammu and Kashmir, carrying out duties that involved gathering information on security threats.

After the September 2008 Malegaon bomb blast, the Maharashtra Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) arrested Prasad. The ATS alleged he was a part of a conspiracy. There were false allegations. His arrest shook me. The stigma attached to someone accused of terrorism is huge, more so for an army officer. It took us some time to gather the courage to fight a long battle—a battle that lasted 17 years. But never, not even for a moment, did I doubt his innocence.

The legal journey stretched from 2008 to 2025. Bail petitions were filed in the Supreme Court as early as 2011; it took seven years for my plea to even be heard. The case was transferred from the ATS to the National Investigation Agency (NIA) in 2011. One of the lawyers who had earlier represented NIA once told me: “Ma’am, you came for every hearing but we were told not to list this matter.” Things started moving only in 2014. I attended almost every hearing, travelling back and forth, clinging to the hope that the truth would eventually emerge. It did. The army officers who gave their testimonies denied any involvement of Prasad. The police officers could not answer why they arrested him. I remember they kept saying they arrested him because they were told to. Prasad remained in custody in the Taloja Central Jail as an undertrial for nearly nine years, until he was granted bail by the Supreme Court in 2017–2018.

In our country, court battles are fought for years, but it is during these trying times you learn who your real friends and well-wishers are. Those who knew him well were sure he was innocent. But there were also those who enjoyed seeing him being vilified. Support arrived from places we did not expect. Officers and soldiers, who had worked under Prasad’s leadership or alongside him in different postings, remained in touch. They wrote letters, made phone calls and gave assurances of his innocence. Their kind words, repeated over the years, gave me the strength to continue to fight.

We became victims of two things—unjust investigation and a media trial that was used as a weapon. The investigative agency pursuing the false case knew it did not stand a chance in court. Hence, it used the media to shape a narrative against us.

The media trial was deeply painful. I am still searching for an answer to an important question—who provides information to the media to pen a one-sided narrative? Press conferences were held, portions of statements were shown on television repeatedly, and our private suffering was played out in public. The army, however, stood by us during the trial period. Though promotions were held back because the case was still pending, it didn’t matter after a while. What was more painful was that a good officer was deprived of performing his duties and serving the nation.

The personal journey was even more painful. From the moment of his arrest, I became the only parent to our two children. We mutually decided that our children, who were very young then, would never visit a dark place like a prison. Instead, whenever possible, I used to take them to court hearings. They missed growing up with their father. For those nine years, Prasad was missing from school achievements, festivals and family occasions. This loss remains immeasurable. Will we be able to live through those moments now, after his acquittal? The answer is no.

A jail term can take a toll on you emotionally. A jail is a living crematorium. Once a dead body arrives at a crematorium, it is just a body, stripped of all identities. When Prasad was sent to jail, all his identities—a top army officer, a patriotic citizen, a committed professional, a loving husband and father—were stripped from him. He was just another undertrial prisoner with a badge number. A person who wore his army uniform with pride had to wear the uniform meant for undertrials. I have no words to express how he must have felt.

Jail inmates don’t care about your identity. You are just one among them, struggling and coping. Ultimately, it’s the strength of your character that helps others understand who you actually are. Prasad did not have prolonged interactions with inmates; he spent a lot of time reading books. Writing his diaries kept him sane. He has always had a spiritual bent of mind. In prison, he read the Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita. Discussing philosophy used to be a part of our family conversations. Turning to philosophy helped him in jail. He read many books on nature and even studied Botany to divert his mind. Yet, it was tough. His liberty was curbed. Helplessness kills a person’s spirit. Restlessness set in. He was a workaholic, but had nothing to do in jail. He had to take formal permission to keep books or even basic medicines with him.

He wrote to us frequently from jail. He also wrote about his experiences. He has shared some of his writings with me and our children. Throughout the trial, they tried to be normal, but deep inside, they knew something terrible had happened.

I remember the day he was granted bail in 2017-18. My elder son was then in his first year of college. Everyone knew who his father was. His friends told him that he should be proud of his father. Perhaps it was my own anxiety that made me fear the judgment. In reality, people were far more open and compassionate than I had imagined.

On July 31, 2025, the special NIA court in Mumbai pronounced its judgment. All seven accused who faced trial, including Prasad and Pragya Singh Thakur, were acquitted. The court recorded that the prosecution had failed to prove the charges beyond a reasonable doubt. There was insufficient reliable evidence to establish any conspiracy. The allegations regarding the procurement and storage of RDX could not be substantiated with credible proof.

The acquittal brought an end to 17 years of legal proceedings— from arrest to the final verdict. Prasad was released and soon reinstated in the Army. In September 2025, he was promoted to the rank of Colonel, with his original seniority restored for the intervening years. He was honoured with the Dattaji Shinde Puraskar.

When he returned home to Pune, our society members welcomed him with flower petals, firecrackers, posters, and prayers. The neighbours, who had witnessed our long struggle, gathered to celebrate. The sight of that support, after years of silence and isolation, was overwhelming.

The scars, however, will remain. Seventeen years were lost to separation, public stigma, financial burden and emotional exhaustion. Our children grew up without their father’s daily guidance. I carried responsibilities all alone for a very long time. The experience exposed serious flaws in the system, prolonged undertrial detention and media coverage that shapes public opinion even before trials conclude, investigations vulnerable to external pressures and the absence of accountability when evidence is mishandled.

For every undertrial and every family still trapped in India’s prisons, where cases drag on for decades, homes break apart and lives are put on hold. Reforms are essential. Trials must conclude faster. Investigations need stronger accountability. Laws like the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA) must be safeguarded from misuse. These changes are not optional; they are necessary to prevent other families from enduring what we did.

We continue to love this country without reservation. The nation remains supreme, and its institutions, despite their shortcomings, ultimately delivered justice in our case. Prasad is back in service, carrying forward his duty with the same dedication. We move ahead, carrying the lessons of those difficult years, hoping that no other family has to live through the same ordeal.

On September 8, 2006, bomb explosions near a mosque in Malegaon, Maharashtra, killed over 30 during Ramadan. The police initially blamed Muslims but later implicated Hindu extremists after an NIA probe. Initial arrests included nine Muslim youth, but later named Hindu suspects including Lokesh Sharma, Dhan Singh, Rajendra Choudhary, Manohar Narwaria, Swami Aseemanand, Pragya Singh Thakur, and Lt. Col. Prasad Purohit.

This article is part of the Magazine issue titled Thou Shalt Not Dissent dated February 1, 2026, on political prisoners facing long trials and the curbing of their rights under anti-terrorism laws for voicing their dissent