In a village near Andipatti, Meenakshi* irons clothes for a living, pauses between customers to take medicines for a respiratory infection that has been plaguing her for years, and watches a Class I child play outside the house.
The child is her granddaughter. The five-year-old’s father is serving life imprisonment. Her mother died five years ago. Her elder sister died in an accident three months ago, along with Meenakshi’s younger son.
“Inside, my son is serving his sentence. Outside, we are also serving it,” says the 47-year-old. “He wants this child to study somehow. But I do not know how long I can manage.”
Across Tamil Nadu, families of prisoners suffer punishment that has no court has ordered. When a mother or father is convicted, children often lose not just a parent, but school fees, food security, social standing and access to credit.
These stories are not told. Crime, arrest, conviction and sentence get reported. The families left behind move into a different life, away from headlines, often carrying both stigma and debt.
In Devakottai, Selvi* has raised two children since her husband was sentenced to life imprisonment in 2013 for a double murder committed during an argument.
Her daughter scored 80% in Class XII after studying from Class XI in a Madurai hostel with help from Global Network for Equality (GNE), an organisation which supports 200 such children in TN.
Now she wants to study nursing. The first year alone may cost Selvi about 1 lakh. “My daughter studied well. She wants to become a nurse. But when admission time comes, we have no money,” says the 43-year-old. “Banks ask for property. We have nothing to pledge.”
She had borrowed 60,000 through a women’s self-help group. Until she repays it, another loan is unlikely. Her husband’s side offers little support because the murders happened within the family.
Selvi works wherever she finds wages: farm labour, MGNREGA work, and now a beer-bottle washing unit near Devakottai for about 300 a day. Earlier, her husband worked in an envelope-making unit in Madurai prison and sent small amounts home. But prison industry work there has slowed after an alleged scam.
“Every time I speak to him, he says, ‘Bring me out. I will work and look after the children.’”
Psychologist Meera Krishnan says such families live in prolonged stress. “Children of prisoners tend to internalise shame for an act they did not commit,” she says. “When education stops, the risk of
child labour, early marriage and exploitation rises.”
K Shankar, director general of police, prisons, says in Tamil Nadu, released prisoners are provided grants ranging from 50,000 to 1 lakh from the prisoners’ welfare fund to help them restart their lives. “About 750 former inmates were assisted last year to start small businesses and we plan to continue the scheme. As for interest-free loans or advances to inmates’ families, possibilities are being explored.”
Activists say Telangana’s prison welfare loan scheme is a model Tamil Nadu could study (see box). Advocate K R Raja from GNE says the issue should be seen as a social and rehabilitation concern, not merely humanitarian support. “We try to ensure these children do not drop out. But scholarship support alone is not enough when families face college fees, medical treatment or wedding expenses,” he says. “A structured interest-free loan system can prevent one conviction from destroying an entire generation.”
The families of the incarcerated say they want a system that recognises that children should not inherit the sentence of their parents. A loan, repaid from prison wages, may not erase the crime. But it can help a child stay in school, get a roof repaired, make a surgery possible, and keep a family away from moneylenders. “That’s all we are asking,” says Meenakshi.
Telangana’s family rehabilitation loans
Telangana’s prison department offers one possible model for families struggling outside prison walls. Under its welfare scheme, inmates’ families can get interest-free advances of up to 1 lakh for education, medical emergencies and weddings, with the amount later recovered gradually from prisoners’ wages.
Tamil Nadu has the infrastructure to attempt this. In 2024, its prison industries generated 70.4cr through the production and sale of goods, ranking second in India after Kerala. The average production value per inmate was 34,496.
Prisons in the state produce uniforms, shoes, belts, raincoats, mosquito nets, soap, textiles, file pads, iron cots, barricades and lockers for govt departments. They also run units in weaving, tailoring, carpentry, baking, bookbinding, bootmaking, handmade paper, fly ash bricks, agriculture and compost production. Nine petrol bunks are operated with Indian Oil Corporation Limited.
Prisoners are paid 300 a day for skilled work and 270 for semi-skilled work. Activists say a small portion of prison industry earnings can be earmarked for recoverable, interest-free family loans.
Former prison officer R Sivaraman says such a model would strengthen rehabilitation. “A prisoner who helps educate his child through his own labour remains connected to responsibility,” says Sivaraman. “It also reduces the desperation that can push inmates towards risky influences inside prisons, while giving them hope that they can return to society with dignity. Prison reform cannot end at the prison gate. It must also reduce the collapse waiting outside.”
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