By Poliar Wahid

DHAKA, July 8, 2025 (BSS) – It felt as if the tragic event of Karbala had descended upon Jatrabari on July 19, 2024 during the student-people July Uprising. That Friday, shortly after Jummah prayers, sniper bullets were deliberately fired at the protesters, killing many people.

In an interview with Bangladesh Sangbad Sangstha (BSS), Abdullah Al Saikat -- a frontliner in the July uprising at Jatrabari -- recalled the haunting memories of what is now referred to as the July Massacre.

Abdullah Al Saikat was born in 2001 in Ramganj, Lakshmipur. He spent his childhood in the capital’s Shonir Akhra and Jatrabari neighborhoods. Currently, he is a third-year student in the Department of Electrical and Electronic Engineering at Khulna University of Engineering and Technology (KUET).

 The resistance put up by students and citizens in Jatrabari has often been compared to the storming of the Winter Palace during the Bolshevik revolution -- and Saikat was one of its frontline warriors. He is also the co-founder of the "July Massacre Archive," an initiative to preserve the memories, documents and data of that fateful month.

 From July 19 onwards, Saikat was actively involved in the movement across Jatrabari, Shonir Akhra, Kajla, Donia, and Rayerbagh. He helped transport wounded comrades to hospitals and by borrowing money from friends at KUET and BRAC, he arranged for their medical care and financial support.

 BSS: It's been nearly a year since the July Uprising. Is there any memory from that time which you haven’t shared with anyone until now?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Most of the time, I was directly on the streets around Jatrabari, Shonir Akhra and Kajla. But what we now call the massacre, began right after Jummah prayers on July 19. The police weren’t firing in groups or advancing from the station. In fact, at that time, they were still assembled near the police station and hadn’t dared to approach us.

 Since July 17, the Dhaka-Chattogram Highway -- from Jatrabari through Shonir Akhra and Kajla all the way to Rayerbag -- was under the control of the students and the people.

 That day (July 19), we were standing in the middle of the road near the Kajla toll plaza. Large tree trunks had been placed to block the highway. Some were chanting slogans, some sitting in circles chatting. Suddenly, we heard the sound of gunfire. But we couldn’t tell where it was coming from -- what direction exactly. We looked toward the police, but they weren’t firing. Then came a few more gunshots.

 Right in front and slightly to my left, there was an auto-rickshaw driver standing. A bullet struck his face -- tore through his cheek. I later found out his name was Habib Bhai. After that, the gunfire didn’t stop. It just kept coming. People started running in every direction. Some were collapsing, unable to get back up.

 That’s when we realized -- this was probably what they were calling sniper shots.

 A few of us carried Habib Bhai to Anabil Hospital. But when we reached there, the hospital was already overwhelmed -- packed with the injured. We couldn’t even get inside properly. All of this happened within about ten minutes. And we began to suspect the shots were being fired from rooftops or windows of the surrounding buildings.

BSS: So, you’re saying it wasn’t random -- it was a targeted shooting?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Yes. Just think about it -- we had no idea where the bullets were coming from. And there were so many people. It’s possible a single bullet was injuring two or three at once. 

How long were you on the streets on July 19?

Abdullah Al Saikat: From after Jummah prayers until around 10pm. Hundreds of people were injured in the blink of an eye. So, I spent most of the time running between hospitals, helping the wounded. I gave my time to those who were injured -- because once I got to the hospitals, I realized they needed capable hands to hold the wounded, administer saline and give injections.

 That’s why I stayed mostly by the side of the injured in the hospitals.

We’d like to hear in detail what you witnessed inside the hospitals on July 19.

 Abdullah Al Saikat: Those of us who were university students -- we tried to do whatever we could. I saw scores of injured fighters being brought to hospitals, but none of them had any documentation. So, I started taking photos with my own phone -- just to have some kind of record. Because at the hospitals, there was no admission paperwork, no lists of how many were being treated, no serial numbers -- nothing. No documentation at all.

 And by then, members of the Chhatra League had already visited the hospitals and threatened the authorities -- not to admit or treat the wounded.

 But thankfully, the hospital owners were good people. They ignored the threats and still provided the fighters basic first aid.

So, is that the reason which guided you to establish the “July Massacre Archive”?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Exactly. I tried to save whatever I could on my phone -- the names, identities, photographs, and contact details of the injured. Like I said, I was going around taking a photo of each person, because I realized no one else would preserve this information. But eventually, it would be needed.

 How did you manage to send Habib Bhai and the other injured to the hospital? And which hospitals did they go to?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Since there was no transport available, we finally managed to arrange a pickup truck. By then, five patients had already been turned away from two different hospitals. So we loaded Habib Bhai and the others into the pickup and sent them to Mitford (Salimullah Medical College Hospital).

 Meanwhile, more and more injured people kept arriving. We had no idea how we’d even pay the fare. All nearby shops were shut down. Not a single mobile financial service point like bKash was open.

 So, I went back to Desh Bangla Hospital. By then, the injured had started recognizing me. Even the hospital staff knew who I was. They were scared -- worried that the government forces might attack the clinic. But they ignored all the threats and still helped us. They treated us like their own family members.

One thing that should be mentioned: the hospital owner was involved in BNP politics. So, he gave his full support to help the injured fighters.

 I was trying to help everyone I could. People started running to me when they saw me. They understood I was a student. The hospital staff listened to me seriously and gave me a lot of support. But they simply didn’t have the capacity to treat so many people.

 On the other hand, the injured had no money. So I gave whatever cash I had to the hospital. Then I asked my friends to start sending money via bKash directly to Desh Bangla Hospital’s counter number. That’s how we kept things going.

How much were clinics charging for treatment?

Abdullah Al Saikat: They weren’t charging much. Just the bare minimum -- only what was absolutely necessary, mostly for bandages and injections. My friends were sending money through bKash to the hospital’s number. The hospital staff would deduct only their actual expenses and return the rest of the cash to me.

 That’s how I managed things -- on my own, as best as I could. After all, the hospitals had to keep running too. And keeping track of exactly how much was being spent on each person was nearly impossible. So we were paying small amounts per patient at the counter.

By 10pm that night, we had already sent at least 50 severely injured people by pickup trucks to NITOR and Salimullah Medical College Hospital.

As for those with minor injuries -- some of their family members started arriving. But, the most astonishing part is that many of them, even after receiving basic treatment, returned to the streets to protest.

Some went back with a bandage on one arm and a stick in the other -- ready to resist. Others had bandages on their feet, or their foreheads, yet they were back on the streets.

 People were so desperate, so determined -- as if they wouldn’t return home until the downfall of Hasina’s regime.

How much did you end up paying to the hospitals from the two funds?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Whatever I had with me ran out at the very first hospital. Then, as the number of injured kept rising, I started calling friends, and they kept sending money. By then, we had already paid around Tk 30 to 40 thousand in hospital bills.

 On top of that, we were paying for vehicle rentals too. Meanwhile, local students -- especially from Dania College, A.K. School, Barnomala School, and other neighborhood youths -- were out on the roads collecting donations from passersby.

 By then, they had formed a deep bond with the protestors. You know how it works -- great danger erases small divisions among people. No one knew each other’s names, but people were carrying the wounded in their arms like brothers.

I saw women who had never met the protestors before…holding up IV bags for young boys as if they were their own sons.

Everyone was helping in their own way. And eventually, I joined up with those local students to coordinate our efforts.

 BSS: Did you witness anyone being martyred on July 19 right in front of you?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Many were martyred that day. And honestly, there are no words for what happened. No language can describe it.

 I was documenting everything -- taking photos, writing down names. Suddenly, someone brought in another injured person. He was a laborer. They barely managed to bandage him.

 I rushed over to take his photo for the record, and as I was clicking the picture, his body suddenly turned still. He became a martyr right in front of me.

 That moment broke me completely. I called my friend from BRAC, crying uncontrollably. That was the first death I witnessed in my own eyes in July. I had never faced anything like that in my life. I couldn’t hold myself together.

 My friends kept calling, telling me, “Stay strong. Stay with them. Whatever money you need, we’ll raise it and send it to you.”

 But the strength I had until that moment -- the energy that kept me running from place to place --it all vanished. I couldn’t even walk anymore.

Many hospitals didn’t issue death certificates, right?

Abdullah Al Saikat: No hospital issued a death certificate. Even, the person who was martyred before my eyes -- his death certificate was not issued either.

 Why? Because the information had spread that we were taking photos, recording names and contact details of the injured and deceased people (involved in the protest movement). The local political leaders had found out. There was a real fear that they might attack the hospital at any time.

 The nurses and hospital staff warned us about this. And in just four to five hours, we had built a deep bond with almost every doctor, nurse, staff member, even the gatekeepers.

 The hospital owner himself came down -- he was running around, helping us in every possible way.

 From what I know, on July 18 and 19, no private hospitals in Dhaka -- whether in Uttara, Rampura, Badda, Mirpur, Mohammadpur, Jatrabari or Shanir Akhra -- kept any data or records on the injured or the dead.

Some people hesitate to call it a mass uprising. Based on your experience on July 19, what would you say?

Abdullah Al Saikat: Of curese, it was mass uprising. The July movment sparked across the country as the then Awami League government led by fascist Sheikh Hasina launched ruthless crackdown on peaceful protests. Students and all levels of people joined the July movement that ousted fascist Sheikh Hasina ending her nearly 16-year rule.   

How long were you at the hospital on July 19? Did Chhatra League later raid the place?

Abdullah Al Saikat: We were too much engaged in providing support in the hospital -- no one had time to even look at each other. At one point, I noticed a boy with an injury on his hand. He came in, got his bandage, and was about to leave. But I saw he had a revolver tucked into his waist -- open, fully visible. He didn’t seem to care who saw it.

It was around 10pm then. Not long after he left, the hospital nurses and staff started panicking. They told us that local Awami League leaders had found out that we were treating injured protesters. That meant a raid or attack are likely to take place.

 Now how do you tell who’s Chhatra League and who’s a protester? That’s when it struck me: that boy must’ve been from Chhatra League. He came pretending to seek treatment, but he was probably spying over the situation.

Immediately, the nurses took action. They pulled six or seven of us -- students, volunteers helping the injured -- into a side room, locked the door from outside so that no one would know we were inside.

 And the staff told us, “If they want to do anything to you, they’ll have to go over our dead bodies first.”

That was the kind of fight the hospital staff put up that day.

So, when people question whether this was a mass movement or not -- what would you call this, then? Everyone fought in their own way, from their own place.

 And there was something else -- kind of emotional. The students locked in the room with me, once they learned who I was, broke into tears. They said, “Bhaiya, we won’t let anything happen to you. You’re a KUET student. Bangladesh needs you. We’ll give our lives if we have to -- but we won’t let them touch you.”

 We were locked in that room for over half an hour. After things calmed down, two of the boys walked me all the way to my alley.

Just imagine -- people putting their lives on the line for others. When does that happen?

And on my way home, just in my alley alone, I heard cries and news of death in at least 19 or 20 houses.

 There are no words -- no language -- that can express how the day unfolded.

That night I completely broke down.

 July 19… It was as if Karbala had descended upon Jatrabari. So many lives lost.