By Mohammad Afzal Hossen Tanvir

Dhaka, July 2, 2025 (BSS) - Mahin Sarkar, a prominent coordinator of Anti-discrimination Student Movement, said the risky programmes announced from clandestine locations made the July uprising alive during the live-and-death moments after arrest of key movement leaders, reminiscing his hiding experience from one house to another in an apparent cat-and-mouse game.  

"The movement somewhat lost momentum after the arrest of key leaders, prompting them to lead and announce new risky programmes to sustain uprising," said Mahin, one of them who spearheaded protest during the uncertain period with the future of uprising due to arrest of key coordinators.

In that terrifying leadership vacuum, he emerged, not by appointment, but by necessity and indomitable courage, during the July uprising that earlier was merely formed just centering reformation of quota in the government jobs.

The quota reform movement turned into July uprising where millions of aggrieved people participated, opposing barbaric crackdown on unarmed protesters spearheaded by AL cadres and their loyal forces. 

Bangladesh witnessed a barbaric crackdown on unarmed protesting student-people after the Liberation War which many people perceived that the July uprising was so terrible and intensive in the context of violence, ensuring the AL government's fall after it came to power in 2008.
 
Mahin was getting emotional while recounting the memories of July uprising to BSS, depicting the adventurous story during the suffocating silence following the internet shutdown and arrest of key leaders.

He went on remembering how he convened secret meetings at Gonoshasthaya Nagar Hospital to be attended by core leadership avoiding police surveillance as he was subjected to incredible mental pressure and constant threat of arrest.

His full interview is given below:
 
BSS: How did you get involved in the movement and played a role of a leader as you were preparing for jobs tests and moreover you used to reside in hall?

Mahin: "The anger was personal. Seeing the 56% quota reinstated I took it as a betrayal. All my preparation, all the sacrifices my family made for my education, seemed futile. That ignited a fire. 

But stepping into leadership wasn't a sudden decision; it was a path forged by circumstance and trust. My experience in the previously Central Library reform movement was crucial though it was a minor move, but it was a focus on specific university issues, it taught me the process of organizing, articulating demands, of standing firm. 

When the quota issue appeared, students remembered my past activities. They looked for someone who had stood up before. But more importantly, it was the overwhelming support and the sheer desperation around me. My friends, younger brothers, seniors in the halls, they came to me. They said, "Mahin, move forward. We are all with you." 

Even more surprisingly, there were messages from some Chhatra League rankholders who later resigned after July 15th, they reached me out, saying, "Move forward. We may be in Chhatra League, but we will not stop you and will stand by you." They saw the restoration of quota as injustice as well. 

Knowing that the students, my mates were united behind me, and even sensing cracks in the opposition's wall, I felt courage. It wasn't ambition; it was a responsibility pushed upon me by the collective need and their faith. I couldn't let them down. The risk felt secondary to the necessity of the moment".
 
The halls were clearly Chhatra League's strongholds. How did you manage to infiltrate that rigid structure to organize students within the halls? What were the specific challenges in mobilizing students' right under their noses?

Mahin: "It was very tough. Chhatra League controlled everything of halls including seat allocation, guestroom etc. Their presence was constant and intimidating. Organizing students against them required courage, caution and there was a chance of direct confrontation with them in the early days which was like committing suicide. 

The experience of library issue helped me a lot. When we called for a protest, it wasn't just about the abstract quota; we framed it as the immediate systematic indignities students faced daily. 
We showed them this movement was their chance. 

On the other hand, support from a group of Chhatra League leaders also played a vital role as their tacit non-interference, or even subtle warnings to hardliners created crucial breathing space. 

After the procession from my hall led by me on July 2, when we staged a protest at Raju Memorial Sculpture with 300-400 students, the hall Chhatra League leaders immediately called me and threatened to cancel my seat and evict me from my hall. 

I had to stand firm, politely but unequivocally. I told them, "This isn't my movement alone. Even if I stop, it won't stop. People are coming at my call because they are angry."

The only reason I wasn't thrown out immediately was that overwhelming show of force from the ordinary students. 

Coordination among the students of the halls during processions was more difficult. Separate processions from each hall had to be timed precisely and routes were well planned to avoid early clashes as messengers constantly were updating us Chhatra League movements. 
 
You've spoken about facing direct threats and physical intimidation. Can you detail some of those experiences? What did it feel like to be targeted so personally?

Mahin: Threats started almost as soon as I became visible or appeared a face of the movement. They used to threaten me over Phone, sending anonymous messages and warnings. 

But the physical intimidation escalated as the movement gained momentum, especially as we neared open conflict. I was systematically and pre-planned assaulted. 

I was literally pushed out of Bijoy Gardens. They just mobbed and pushed me away like an unwanted. At Jasim Uddin Hall, it was the same - surrounded, jostled aggressively, raised hands like they were about to strike. In F Rahman Hall, it was more direct; I was dragged by my collar. That's a deeply humiliating and frightening experience. Zahurul Haque Hall was perhaps the most dangerous in those early days. Chhatra League activists didn't just confront me; they continuously threw stones and bricks.

Jagannath Hall was almost fanatic in its absurd cruelty. They gave me an ultimatum: "You have a few seconds to leave our hall. Otherwise, we will kill you cutting your throat." 

Every time I entered a hall, it felt like walking into hostile territory. The fear was constant. But what kept me going was the students around me during protests. When they formed a protective circle, when they shouted to the aggressors, I felt strength. 

If the students didn't stand by me and make a shield around me, it was not possible for me to organise the movement.
 
Sheikh Hasina's comment labelling protesters as "decedents of Razakar" is widely seen as a major turning point. Where were you when you heard this, and what was the immediate reaction among the movement's leaders and the general students?

Mahin: That comment fuelled fire that already ignited. We were engaged in a day-long planned program on July 14th. We had submitted a memorandum to the President. The atmosphere was tense but focused. Then the news was spread that Sheikh Hasina at a press conference had dismissed our demand and called the protesters as "Razakar." 

Her insight was clear by her statement that we weren't legitimate protesters; we were criminals, thugs and enemies of the state. The reaction was instant and direct. It felt like a deliberate provocation, a vehement insult meant to justify violence against us. We thought that now conflict had become inevitable. This wasn't just about quotas anymore; it was a direct attack on our character, our patriotism, and our very rights to protest. 
The students became outrageous. The word spread like wildfire through social media and phones. We saw the reflection of that fury at night. 

That very night, July 14th, Chhatra League leaders and activists, along with Jubo League members, began gathering around Dhaka University in an ominous show of force. They were joined by the then Mayor of Dhaka and MPs from Dhaka constituencies, holding rallies. It was a clear signal that the state machinery and its student wing were mobilizing not for dialogue, but for confrontation. We knew an attack was imminent. 
 
Can you describe your personal experience about the attack on Dhaka University on July 15. How did you save yourself and what were your immediate thoughts seeing the university under assault?

Mahin: July 15th is a day etched in my memory with horror. We knew something was coming after the mobilization the previous night, but the scale was shocking. I was on the campus when the initial attacks began. The sheer violence was unleashed by Chhatra League, Jubo League, and hired musclemen under the silent permission of law enforcers as they were inactive to protect general students. 

They weren't just dispersing a protest; they were laying siege to the university, our home. Buildings were vandalized, students were hunted down and beaten mercilessly - it was chaos and terror. 

Seeing familiar places to turn into battlegrounds, seeing fellow students bloodied and fleeing, was devastating. My immediate thought was about survival and taking leadership. Staying in the hall was suicidal and so I had to get out.

Leaving hall, I first went at a Students' mess at Mirpur. But even the situation was fraught. I was supposed to go to a friend's uncle's house, but my friend, understandably disoriented and scared, couldn't remember the exact location well, as he had been there only once before. We spent that night of July 15th like homeless with fear in Mirpur, hearing sounds of violence from distant places, and worrying about other friends whom we left behind. 

The immediate thoughts were a mix of shock, grief for the university, fury at the perpetrators, and a deep anxiety about what came next. 
 
With the campus closed and halls evacuated after the attack, the movement was decentralized from DU. How did you manage coordination and make communication, especially when the government eventually shut down the internet? Where did you stay, and how did you address the constant security threats?

Mahin: The days after July 15 were perhaps most challenging and dangerous. The campus was closed, and halls were forcibly vacated. We were scattered, homeless, and hunted. Communication was our lifeline, and the authorities knew it. Initially, we relied on mobile networks and messaging apps like Signal and Telegram constantly changing numbers. 
But then came the internet shutdown. It was a deliberate attempt by govt to tackle the movement. As a result, we couldn't coordinate nationally, couldn't get information, and couldn't receive updates. We couldn't use the phone as there was a fear of being arrested tracking phone. 

Nahid Islam, before his arrest, had instructed us about plans. Our primary setback was that we couldn't attend meeting in person for security reasons. Gonoshasthaya Nagar Hospital became a crucial command center at that time. Those of us who could be able to evade arrest would meet there, often in disguise. We exchanged information, assessed the situation across the country, and planned the next steps. It was incredibly dangerous; police and intelligence were watching hospitals. 

Staying safe was a daily nightmare. After my failed attempt to find shelter on the July 15, I went back to Mirpur. My safety there depended entirely on the solidarity of local university students. They became my protectors. They hid me in their messes, paved way for me to move frequently and formed a network to watch law enforcer's movement. They understood if I was caught in a mass arrest, the movement could lose a key coordinator. We also received unexpected help. Even student wings of opposition parties, like Chhatra Dal, reached out discreetly.
We lived in a state of perpetual vigilance, sleeping lightly, trusting only a handful of people, and knowing any moment could be our last.
 
The arrest of Nahid Islam was another crisis point. How did you overcome that vacuum? How did you continue the movement at that time?

Mahin: Nahid's arrest was blow to the movement. He was a central figure, a key strategist, and a voice. His arrest and his forced statement was an issue. The deposed Awami League government wanted to break our spirit and legitimize the crackdown. 

But, at this moment, the movement itself didn't die. As I said before, at the field level, everyone became a leader. Students in private universities, madrasas, colleges across Bangladesh, who had been inspired and connected during the initial uprising, took initiative locally. They organized their own protests, sit-ins, and marches without waiting for central instructions. 

Then, I, Rifat and Hannan Masud gathered in one of our temporary safe locations. I remember that we cried thinking what is waiting next for us. 

We had a difficult meeting. Retreating wasn't an option as it wouldn't save us, and it would be a betrayal with everyone who had been martyred or arrested. We had to respond decisively. We decided to announce a new programme, facing more difficult phase of the movement to keep it flowing. Then we announced the new programs.

We started planning from July 28 onwards, knowing the immense risks this entailed. That period, from Nahid's arrest to our regrouping and response, was a game-changing moment.
 
You had to go through immense pressure on your family. Can you elaborate on the specific threats they faced and how you tackled those pressures?

Mahin: This is perhaps the most painful part of the movement. The state didn't just pursuit me, they weaponized our families. 

I received direct calls from law enforcers. One, claiming to be a former "elder brother" from the university, tried to land me in a classic honey trap, saying: "Mahin, sit with me. Whatever you need, this government will give you everything... You are suffering the most, come to us, we will highlight you..." He offered wealth, safety, political future - everything. His intention was clear and wanted to say me that betray the movement, become a puppet, and enjoy the rewards. When I refused outright, telling him that his profession was to serve the government, not me, and that I wouldn't betray the mothers, he turned vicious. He gave me an hour to "reconsider," threatening consequences. 

Then, the real pressure started. My family received calls. Mahbubul Alam Hanif, a senior Awami League leader, called my father directly. He said, "Stop your son quickly. Otherwise, there will be danger in his life." Imagine my father's shock and fear! He was an ordinary man. The calls from my family that day were desperate and tearful. That night, I was forced to meet them. Seeing their fear, their tears... it was crushing. They begged me to stop; they were terrified for my life and theirs. 

I am the only son, with a younger sister. The threats became even more vile. Chhatra League and Awami League thugs started making disgusting, targeted comments about my sister on social media and likely through other channels. Messages were being spread implying harm, sexual violence - the worst kind of intimidation. The message was clear: "We will destroy your family." 

I was thinking did I doom my parents and sister? Did I put their lives, their safety in danger? I turned off my phone to avoid tracking and their distraught calls that made me feel abandoned. The fear for my parents was constant and a grave anxiety gripped me always even when I was planning and organising protests. 
It forced me to take an impossible choice: family or the nation. I thought that even withdrawing myself from the movement wouldn't save me, and I have the responsibility to those already sacrificed, so I opted for being on streets.
  
The movement made-up unprecedented unity, including with private university students who hadn't traditionally joined such protests. How did this coordination develop, especially after the campus closure and internet shutdown? Why was this alliance significant?

Mahin: This unity was one of the movement's most significant and unexpected achievements. Before the July attacks, there was some nascent contact. Representatives from private universities had reached out, were curious and perhaps sympathetic. We had some communication. But there was a historical divide. Private university students, often perceived as more affluent or apolitical, hadn't been seen at movements centered on public universities like Shahbag. 

The brutal crackdown on Dhaka University on July 15th and 16th changed everything. It showed this wasn't just a "public university issue"; it was an assault on student rights nationwide. The closure of DU and the violent dispersal ignited a fire in private universities campuses. They saw their peers being beaten, their sanctuary violated. The internet shutdown ironically forced more physical coordination. When central communication collapsed, the existing, albeit weak, links we had with private university representatives became vital lifelines. 

During our meetings at places like Gonoshasthaya Nagar Hospital, private university leaders got priority. They organized their own massive protests. It cemented the movement as a truly national student uprising, only not confined to Dhaka University. This solidarity, during crisis, was a powerful counter to the government's attempts to isolate and demonize the public university students. 
 
The movement started with demands for quota reform which later turned into an anti-govt move. What were the roots of this movement? What was the reality that sparked this movement?

Mahin: To understand the roots, you have to know the inside stories of the halls of Dhaka University. The movement wasn't born in a vacuum. From the very beginning, Dhaka University appeared to be crucial for movement for establishing fundamental rights and respect of students. 

The immediate reaction was about the reinstatement of the 56% quota system in government jobs. For us, the job seekers as I was nearing the end of my Honors studies then - this was like a death, a direct assault on our futures after years of struggle. 

But the anger ran deeper than just the quota. Daily life in the halls was a constant negotiation with indignity and control. We lived "within a circle," under the suffocating dominance of the Chhatra League. Dissent wasn't tolerated. Students from poor families, who had no ability to lead a better life outside the halls, used to reside in the halls. We endured injustices just to have a roof over our heads.

The "stomach debt" (Peter Dai) - the basic struggle for dignity and survival - united everyone. It wasn't just about jobs; it was about reclaiming our voice and our space within the university and the nation.

The quota issue became the spark, it ignited the unexpressed fury over this systemic disrespect, and the feeling that our futures were being stolen not just by a policy, but by a structure that favor loyalty over ability. 

And after killing thousand students who were demanding for rightful claims, a government shouldn't have any legitimacy. It was all about rights- which started with rights for job and ended with the demand for availing the rights for justice. That's how it turned into an uprising resulted in an end of more than 15years of an authoritarian fascist regime.
 
What do you think of the most crucial decision made by the leadership during the darkest days after July 15 and Nahid's arrest? What was its impact?

Mahin: Several critical decisions were made, but the most crucial was to immediately announce an escalation of the movement.

This decision was made during an incredibly difficult meeting among the remaining core leaders - myself, Rifat Rashid, Abdul Hannan, Masud, and Abdul Kader. We were disoriented, scared for Nahid and ourselves, and acutely aware of the danger to our families. The easy, perhaps expected, step might have been to go underground and to pause the movement. Instead, we chose defiance. We knew the regime wanted to demoralize the movement.

So, we dared to speak boldly to continue movement, maintain legitimacy as taking decision was incredibly risky. This sustained the national uprising.
 
Finally, reflecting on everything: the sacrifices, the terror, the moments of unity, and the ultimate outcome - what is the lasting legacy of this movement for you personally and for Bangladesh's students?

Mahin: The legacy of the movement is profound and indelible. It showed me the incredible power of collective action and solidarity. We found extraordinary courage among students, mentality to protect each other, and stand united against overwhelming injustices.
 
The movement not only toppled the government, but also changed the landscape. It proved that the spirit of resistance, the demand for justice and dignity, cannot be extinguished by batons, bullets, or force. That is its enduring legacy. 

We are not the grandchildren of Razakars, but of the countless Bengalis who have fought for freedom and justice throughout history. That flame still burns, that's our legacy.