Utsa Sarmin 
Kolkata: As I stepped out of my house on the night of August 14, I could sense a change. As the nation readied to rejoice its freedom and celebrate India’s 78th Independence Day, a starkly contrasting scene was unfolding on the streets of Kolkata.
A wave of anger and grief had swept through the City of Joy, and Kolkata’s usually bustling streets were deserted, a palpable tension hanging in the air. A young doctor, while on duty, at the renowned RG Kar Medical College, was brutally raped and murdered. The horrific details that emerged ignited a firestorm of outrage, propelling women onto the streets.
Inspired by the “Reclaim the Night” protests of generations of feminist who came before us, a collective of feminist activists gave a call for a night-long sit-in at iconic Kolkata locations: Academy, College Street, and Jadavpur. News of the impending protest spread like wildfire across West Bengal.
Emboldened by the collective action and inspired by this global outpouring of solidarity, for the first time in a long time, undeterred by the threat of the night, I ventured out for my first protest spot – Academy. I decided to arrive early. Before 10 pm. Which meant leaving my house by 9 pm.
As we made our way towards the Academy, a fellow traveller and friend commented, “People have either gone back home early, or they have already reached various protesting spots.”
She was right.
The moment the Academy area came into view, we could see hundreds of faces standing with placards, listening to speeches, and raising slogans in solidarity.
Surrounded by women who shared my fears – about career paths, clothing choices, hobbies, commuting, and social interactions – all rooted in a common concern: safety, the isolating sense of alienation dissolved.
Their voices, a powerful indictment of a society that continues to fail its women, echoed through the night as they sought to reclaim the city, demanding justice and safety.
Our stay at Academy was brief as we had decided to spend the night at Jadavpur where the mobilisation was the strongest. At its peak, around 2 am, one of the organisers would estimate that a crowd of 20,000 had gathered at the 8B bus stand in Jadavpur.
When my friends and I were going to 8B from Academy, we crossed the Southern Avenue street, known for its cafes, and a few odd pubs, stretched across its length and breadth, typically open past 11:30 p.m.
But today, nearly all establishments were shuttered, and the streets were devoid of life.
The scene at Jadavpur was however, a complete opposite.
The crowd was a sea of humanity, stretching endlessly in every direction. From toddlers taking their first steps to elderly women leaning on canes, from celebrities to students, it seemed like the entire world had converged.
The human mass was an indistinguishable blur. Losing your friend’s hand while navigating the crowd means losing them for the night. The crowd, drenched in sweat, braving the rain, could barely move while activists led protest chants. It was a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare.
The Reclaim the Night protests in Kolktata. Photo: Utsa Sarmin
“I haven’t witnessed a mass mobilistion at this scale since Kamduni,” Satakshi Nandi, an actor and performer remarked.
In 2013, a 20-year-old college student was the victim of a gruesome rape and murder in Kamduni village, roughly 20 kms from Kolkata. That incident had sparked a similar outrage to what West Bengal is witnessing currently.
“I participated in Kamduni protests and I am here today as well. Because it could have happened to me or someone I know. Gender violence knows no time, space and class. I am also here because I am appalled at the audacity of the authorities,” said Nandi, referring to news that the RG Kar is destroying and renovating the space where the junior doctor’s rape and murder had taken place.
The sea of crowd was effectively managed by hardworking volunteers, mostly consisting of young college students, who almost sacrificed their vocal chords to ensure the mass follows certain safety protocols and asking them to move in a mannerly way while a few others took the responsibility of traffic control.
Their efforts evoked images of Bangladesh’s ongoing student-led movement, where students took on similar responsibilities during a tumultuous time.
A shared understanding emerged as the night progressed: this was not a one-off event but a catalyst for sustained action. The consensus was clear – the momentum needed to be maintained and amplified into a robust movement.
The organisers affirmed this sentiment, promising to develop a concrete set of demands arising from the collective outrage, ensuring the movement’s continued progress and impact.
“It wasn’t an easy task to organise this protest,” Shalini Mitra, one of the core organisers informed me.
“From the very start, the movement was in the danger of getting co-opted by different political forces. And we were very clear that we do not want people from BJP or TMC to be a part of this movement. We reject these forces and their association with known abusers,” added Mitra.
The power of collective action, and the imagination of thousands of women on the street, ignited a spark, inspiring individuals and groups in various localities to organise similar demonstrations.
Within hours, the movement had expanded nationwide, with reports of over 157 protest gatherings reaching us by the evening of August 14.
En route to the protest, a friend from Finland shared news of their own gathering. Soon, social media buzzed with reports of similar demonstrations in London and Edinburgh.
But if organising the protest was an uphill task, the struggle to ensure that the movement didn’t get coopeted by political parties and ideologies was even more challenging.
“There was a call for blowing on conch shell. We did not give that call and we spoke out against it publicly. Conch shell carries a different meaning. The practice of blowing conch shells during puja offerings is a tradition found in Hindu families. So, when certain people started saying women who cannot join the protest should blow on conch shells, we promptly registered our protest against that call, as it is discriminatory towards women of other religions,” said Mitra.
Mitra ended up receiving death threats and rape threats for objecting to the blowing on conch shells resulted in.
“So, you can understand how hard we had to fight against the cooption of the movement by certain parties and ideologies,” said Mitra.
The organisers had also explicitly stated that known abusers were not welcome. Yet, actor Arindam Sil, accused of sexual misconduct, was present. While organisers asked men to be allies, not leaders, leaving the space for women, the overwhelming male presence diluted the focus on women reclaiming the night.
Some men said they accompanied their female partners for safety, undermining the message that women should be safe without male protection. The air of solidarity, of resistance, turned sour at a point when one of the announcers informed the crowd that at a protest against rape and abuse, some men, taking the advantage of the crowd, molested a woman protestor.
Similar storied emerged throughout the night where some encountering drunk men leering at girls, or some touching inappropriately.
The stark reality was a bitter pill to swallow: even in a space explicitly dedicated to condemning sexual violence, women were not safe. Even in numbers, we were not safe. One cannot help but question whether our collective outrage has been ineffective in instilling a fundamental shift in the patriarchal mindset.
As the night wore on, news of atrocities against protestors gathered elsewhere started reaching us. A crowd of 2,500 goons attacked the protest site at RG Kar. Protesting students and doctors had locked themselves in. They didn’t know if they would make it out alive.
Police responded with excessive tear gas. The thick fumes spread to the Shyambazar protest site few kilometers away. Mayhem ensued. Those attempting to reach RG Kar to assist the trapped protesters faced the added danger of suffocation.
From Jadavpur we made several attempts to contact our friends near RG Kar. Calls were constantly dropped due to widespread jamming. A few calls that went through, urged us not to go there. It would have been a futile and dangerous attempt.
The crowd at Jadavpur began to dwindle. News of the Rapid Action Force (RAF) entering RG Kar reached us around 4 a.m. We decided to stay and protect the Jadavpur protest site till dawn, determined to hold onto the space we had reclaimed, discussing the events of the night, assessing our experiences, and our future course of action.