Unforgettable 20 days of this july

Just one month ago, the country witnessed such a massive movement, the anti-discrimination student movement. Although it began with the quota issue, it gradually transformed into a movement for the fall of a fascist government.

This movement began on July 1st, and at that time, I wasn’t involved at all. I didn’t even know where or for what the movement was happening. On July 11th, a few days before my midterms, I was roaming around Shahbagh with my roommate when we saw the ongoing movement. We had never seen a protest in Shahbag before, so we were quite excited.

Even then, I was far away from the movement. I took my exams on July 13th and 14th, and after the exams, I went to sleep at 8 PM. I had another exam on the 16th. When I woke up early the next morning, I found social media flooded with videos of the slogan 'Tumi ke, Amj ke?  Rajakar! Rajakar!' chanted in front of Rokeya Hall. Upon further investigation, I learned that the then Prime Minister had directly labeled all the protesters as 'Rajakar,' which enraged them. Since I had an exam on the 16th, I spent July 15th busy with my studies, but from noon onwards, I kept seeing videos of protests and attacks on protesters across different parts of the country. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies anymore. Despite trying, I couldn’t read anything until night. Eventually, the university sent an email announcing that the university would be closed on the 16th. A decision was made to block the front of the university. The whole night, I was filled with excitement! I had never been to a protest before; would I join one now? My father and brother were affiliated with the ruling party at the time. They didn’t stop me when they heard I was going to the protest. I left home at 9 AM. At 10 AM, I arrived and saw a large gathering of students. Some of my friends were there as well.

The protest went well throughout the day, but in the evening, there was a bit of chaos. I returned home tired but happy. However, upon returning home, I realized that while our protest went smoothly, others didn’t. Abu Said had been martyred! The first martyr of the movement! My blood boiled! How could the police shoot and kill a student?

On the 17th, there were no programs at our university. Throughout the day, I watched videos of students being attacked in various parts of the country, and my heart became restless. Attacks were carried out by the Chhatra League and police at Dhaka University and Jahangirnagar University. In the evening, students were driven out of their dorms at Dhaka University. A decision was made to head towards Shahbagh, but a central announcement came that on July 18th, a 'Bangla Blockade' would be organized involving students from all private universities, schools, and colleges. I couldn’t sleep that night, filled with anxiety. The next morning, my father and brother pressured me not to go out. They practically kept me confined at home. On the 19th, the internet shutdown began. The government could have suppressed the students in many ways, but they only kept provoking them. And my father and brother kept provoking me. I returned to my hometown Mymensingh on the 23rd. After a week of stagnation, the movement gained momentum again from the 27th. Knowing that my family would stop me if I told them, I lied and went to the protest on the 28th.

 Meanwhile, my social media was filled with posts about the movement, the government, and politics, all of which were 100% against the government. Since my father was a candidate for a position in the ruling party, he received a phone call on the 29th. The caller identified themselves as a member of the Detective Branch (DB). They asked why I was posting so much about the movement. Did I have ties with foreign agencies? Was I receiving money from abroad? After this, my father and brother became even more furious with me. My brother scolded me severely, saying, 'Stop this! Who do you think you are? You’re just a university student with no other qualifications. Stay within your limits.' His words hurt me deeply. No matter what anyone says, I can't stop. If the police were to arrest me, so be it, but there was no option to retreat anymore. On August 3rd, I left home to join the protest.

My family called several times to stop me, but I had no time to listen. My father told me not to come back home, that he wouldn’t take any responsibility for me. After the protest ended that afternoon, I didn’t go home but stayed at a relative’s house. On the 4th, there was a call for a 'Long March to Dhaka.' How could I stay at home? I couldn’t convince myself in any way. However, being a girl, it was very risky to go. Another sleepless night! The entire night was spent in tension, prayers, and countless pleas to Allah that my brothers and friends wouldn’t die tomorrow. Early in the morning, I learned that millions of people were entering Dhaka. But by 10 AM, I heard that things weren’t going well. The police weren’t letting people move forward and were firing shots. The army wasn’t helping much either. By 1 PM, I heard that the army had abandoned their positions in several places. They were letting the students and people move forward. By 3 PM, I learned, Alhamdulillah! The tyrant had fled.

The students and the people were marching towards the Prime Minister’s residence and had taken control of it.

When I stepped outside, I saw victory processions. I had never seen the people of Bangladesh so happy before!

I went to my house with sweets in my hand, victorious, from my relative’s house.

From July 16th to the 36th of July (August 5th),

this 20-day experience, this memory, will remain etched in my heart for the rest of my life.