“This is the best day to send a message,” remarked a judge of the Supreme Court on 11 November, as the Bench denied bail to a person accused in a case under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA). The ruling for this individual came just a day after the terror attack in the national capital.
The rationale behind calling it the “best day”, as many inferred, appeared rooted more in the judge’s sentiments in the aftermath of the attack — an observation that seemed more moralistic than judicial, and arguably at odds with the Court’s duty to decide strictly on the basis of law.
Across India, scores of citizens are being summoned, questioned, or informally detained by counter-terror agencies such as the NIA (National Investigation Agency), the Maharashtra ATS (Anti-Terrorism Squad), and the Delhi Police Special Cell.
But since 10 November, multiple accounts suggest a growing collapse of procedural norms — where the gravity of a terror investigation is allowed to overshadow the constitutional safeguards to which every individual is entitled.
This erosion was underscored by the judge’s remarks on 11 November.
Yet, in contrast, the NIA’s decision to release the three doctors detained in the Delhi blasts case — after finding no evidence — demonstrated precisely the kind of restraint and integrity that India’s investigative machinery often lacks in high-voltage cases marked by sweeping allegations of global conspiracies and “jihadi networks”.
Their release stands out in a climate where innocent people are all too easily cast as suspects to fit a narrative.
'Ask for Written Notice': What to Do When The Police Summons
Over the last few weeks, I have received calls from across the country: people intimidated over the phone, visited at home for “selfie verifications”, or summoned without written notice.
These practices, beyond being unlawful, expose ordinary citizens to serious risk of false implication. What follows is a clear, step-by-step guide explaining what every person must do—from the moment a police officer first contacts them until the point of arrest—to protect themselves, ensure due process, and safeguard their families from malicious prosecution.
A fundamental principle every citizen must remember is this: everything done by the police action is documented. No agency operates on the basis of informal oral instructions.
Every inquiry, summons, direction, or procedural step, has a written record. Anything conveyed solely through an unexpected call, an unverified message, or vague oral “orders” should not be relied upon.
Therefore, when a police officer contacts you claiming to be from any agency, your first response must be calm and firm, if you fail here it would be difficult to navigate the rest of the process : ask for their full name, designation, concerned police station or unit, and the exact purpose of the call.
These primary identifiers are not optional courtesies—they are legal safeguards. They allow you to distinguish between a genuine inquiry and an act of intimidation, harassment, or even impersonation, all of which are increasingly common. No citizen is required to respond to anonymous authority.
After verifying the officer’s identity, the next non-negotiable safeguard is to insist on a written notice.
No matter what the officer claims—urgency, “orders from above”, or the need for immediate presence—you are legally entitled to receive a formal notice under the BNSS (Sections 35 , 179 , or 94 , depending on the context) before being asked to appear.
A law-abiding citizen must cooperate with any legitimate investigation, but cooperation does not mean surrendering one’s time, rights, or dignity. Respectfully communicate that you are ready to cooperate and ask the officer to send the notice in writing—either physically or through an officially verifiable channel.
Since such calls invariably come unannounced, no individual is expected to drop all obligations and rush to a police station. You may inform the officer of your availability, convey that you will attend once the written notice is received, and indicate a reasonable time.
This protects you procedurally and prevents situations where intimidation or arbitrary “informal summoning” replaces lawful process. This is the second essential step every citizen must follow.
The written notice is not a formality—it is the single most important document that establishes the legality of your summoning, and often, your innocence. A notice records why you are being called, under which provision, and for what purpose.
This documentation becomes crucial when a person is summoned at, say, 11 AM and arrested at 1 PM; everything that occurs in that two-hour window must later be explained to a court.
Without the written record, the police cannot justify detention, interrogation, or arrest. It is also a critical safeguard against illegal custody and custodial torture a reality in many parts of India where individuals are held off-the-books and sometimes never return.
A stark reminder is the recent case of Bilal Ahmad Wani, the Kashmiri food-seller who died by self-immolation after being summoned to a police station where his son was detained.
Because he had received no notice, there is now no documentary proof of coercion, harassment, or the circumstances that drove him to that extreme act.
A notice protects the citizen by ensuring every act—ours and the police’s—is traceable, recorded, and reviewable. If you have nothing to hide, documentation makes your narrative stronger and makes arbitrary power weaker. It is an essential safeguard, and one must always insist on it.
'My Own Family Faced This...'
Alongside the written notice, the Roznama (Case Diary), Station Diary entries, and all internal documentation maintained by the police become indispensable in establishing the truth of what happened during any period of interrogation, whether it is a two-hour window or a full day of questioning.
These records allow a court to trace the precise timeline of when you entered the police station, who interacted with you, and what was done. If custodial torture or coercion occurs, these documents, combined with the notice that summoned you, make it far easier to prove that the torture took place while you were under state control.
Without this paper trail, accountability collapses. This is why so many unlawful detentions go unpunished: the absence of formal documentation allows the police to deny everything.
My own family witnessed the consequences of such procedural violations. My brother-in-law, Sajid Maghroob Ansari, was summoned “just for five minutes”, without any notice, documentation, or safeguard—exactly the opposite of the procedure described above—and yet he returned home only after nineteen years of incarceration.
His case stands as a warning: when procedure is ignored, justice becomes unattainable. Documentation is the only shield an ordinary citizen has against the catastrophic misuse of power.
In countless cases where individuals fail to demand a notice, the police exploit that absence to create an entirely fictitious chain of events. People are informally picked up, interrogated, detained, and even tortured in illegal custody—completely off the books.
Then, on a day of the police’s choosing, the “official arrest” is shown as having taken place in some distant locality, after an allegedly prolonged search in which the person was supposedly “absconding” or “holed up”.
This manufactured narrative becomes the foundation of the prosecution’s story. Without a notice to anchor the timeline, it becomes nearly impossible for the detainee to prove that they were already in police custody.
But if a written notice exists, this fiction collapses instantly. The judiciary can see that the person had appeared voluntarily pursuant to summons, making any claim of arrest from a far-off place implausible, if not impossible.
Presence of mind becomes crucial the moment a police officer calls. If you receive such a call, the simplest and most effective immediate step is to record the conversation.
This is completely lawful for your own protection and creates a contemporaneous record that can later be shown to a court. Many people, out of fear or shock, are unable to ask the officer for his name, rank, police station, or a written notice—and that is understandable. If panic takes over, do not blame yourself.
The moment the call ends, contact a lawyer. Describe exactly what happened, including the time, the content of the call, and any threats or directions given, get the Vakalatnama signed. Once legally advised, you may inform the officer—politely but firmly—that you have consulted your lawyer , and that you will fully cooperate once a written notice is issued.
Alternatively, you can simply say, “My lawyer will speak to you,” and direct the officer to your counsel. Simultaneously, give the lawyer the officer’s number so that both sides communicate formally. From that point onward, follow your lawyer’s instructions strictly.
What to Do If You Reveal Too Much?
There is another common scenario: a person is so frightened by a sudden police call that they rush straight to the police station without demanding a notice or consulting a lawyer. In that state, one may end up revealing far more than is necessary or needed.
It is vital to understand that every word spoken inside a police station is treated as being “on record”, whether or not it is formally written down. The police can—and often do—use such unguarded statements to construct or distort a narrative.
But if this mistake happens, the remedy is immediate action the moment you step out.
Do not panic or hide. Instead, write (Mail as well as RPAD (Registered Post with Acknowledgement due) to higher authorities—the ACP, DCP, Commissioner, or even the DGP—clearly stating that you were summoned orally, went out of fear, and that the visit violated procedural requirements.
This contemporaneous complaint becomes evidence that you did not voluntarily waive your rights and that the police compelled or manipulated you. It restores legal balance and prevents the police from misusing your words, it also induces fear in them to call you again.
Once a written complaint reaches higher authorities, the consequences for the errant officer are immediate and serious. Senior officials—whether the ACP, DCP, CP, or DGP—summon the officer who called, intimidated, or illegally questioned you, confront him with the complaint, and demand an explanation.
For the officer, this is a professional setback and a personal humiliation: This “dressing down” has a powerful deterrent effect. In several cases I have guided, when the same officer was later instructed by his superiors to approach the individual again, he flatly refused unless a formal written notice was issued.
Officers who once acted with impunity suddenly insist on documented procedure because they know the complainant is alert, aware of their rights, and willing to escalate violations. This shift—from intimidation to strict adherence to procedure—happens only when the citizen documents the first abuse. It transforms the power dynamic and forces the police machinery to operate within the law.
Once the immediate fear settles, a crucial follow-up step is to file RTI applications seeking copies of the statement recorded during your visit and requesting CCTV footage of the police station for the relevant date and time.
Even though police departments often resist sharing such material, the very act of filing RTIs creates a formal paper trail establishing that you were present in the police station at specific hours—and that you were in police custody, not “missing”, “absconding”, or located elsewhere as later fabricated narratives often claim.
When the NIA raided my house in 2022 after the ban on the Popular Front of India, my mobile phones were seized. Electronic devices can only be seized after proper hash value generation, because a hash value (SHA-1/SHA-256) guarantees the integrity of the digital evidence and prevents later tampering.
Since the police did not provide the hash value at the time of seizure, I refused to sign the seizure memo. A seizure memo is an important thing, and refusal to sign is lawful when procedure is violated. It protects both the citizen and the integrity of evidence.
Some people later said that this assertion of my rights is why the NIA called me to Lucknow for further questioning. But I still went to Lucknow. Fear, speculation, and pressure are never reasons to avoid lawful cooperation. I had nothing to hide, and I had no reason to fear any false allegation. My confidence lay in two things, my absolute non-involvement in anything the agencies suspected, and the understanding of the law and of due process.
I learned each of these safeguards through a bitter, life-altering experience. I have seen people who walked into a police station once—out of fear, hesitation, or ignorance of procedure—and never truly returned.
I saw my co-accused lose nineteen years of his life, and I myself spent nine years behind bars—all because we did not insist on the basic procedural protections I have outlined above.
Fear, silence, or misplaced trust in “informal” police directions can cost a person their youth, their career, their family, their entire future. That is why I urge everyone to hold fast to due process—not just out of fear, but out of commitment to the rule of law a shield against the catastrophic consequences of malicious or careless prosecution.
One must demand procedure not only for oneself but for the survival of a republic that bases itself on the rule of law; And at moments like this, we must remember the warning carried through history by Martin Niemöller:
First they came for the Communists, and I did not speak out—
"Because I was not a Communist.
Then they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—
and there was no one left to speak for me."