By Tausiful Islam

Dhaka, July 5, 2025 (BSS) - The role of women was unprecedented in the historic student-people July uprising in 2024. Standing at the frontlines of rallies, energizing crowds with slogans, leading from the front -- women proved that this movement was not only about resistance but also about changeover. One of the key figures to emerge from that movement was Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha.

Known as the "July Daughter," Sinthiya is now serving as the spokesperson for the Anti-Discrimination Student Movement. On July 15, 2024, she was brutally attacked in the Dhaka University area by thugs from the now banned Chhatra League and Jubo League, yet she kept the incident hidden from her family. Even after her college dormitory was closed on July 17, she did not return home but continued to be involved in the movement, taking refuge with friends. She would step into the streets every day with the belief -- today might be the day she has to sacrifice her life for the country.

Sinthiya is a student of the 2021-22 session in the Department of Zoology at Begum Badrunnesa Govt. Girls College in the capital. She was born and raised in Dhaka.

Recently, she shared her experiences, determination, and moments of despair in an exclusive interview with the Bangladesh Sangbad Sangstha (BSS).

BSS: It's been almost a year since the 2024 July uprising. What began as a student movement demanding quota reform turned into a movement to topple the authoritarian regime of Sheikh Hasina after her indiscriminate killings. The movement that started at Dhaka University spread across the country. When and how did you get involved in it?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: It's been a year since the mass uprising of 2024. For those of us who participated in directly and from the frontlines, it's still hard to believe that a whole year has passed. Our memories are so vivid, so unblemished, that we can't quite grasp how time has flown by.

To put it simply, my involvement in the movement began with the 'Bangla Blockade' program. When the protests first began against the reinstatement of the quota system in government jobs, I kept thinking about Hasina's traps. Every time she compromised the country's interests, she would bring some issue to the forefront as a distraction.

So at first, many of us -- including myself -- thought this might just be another eyewash. Around that time, there was also intense discussion that India wants to establish a rail track through the heart of Bangladesh. Because of that, I took a few days to observe things closely before showing my solidarity with the movement.

I joined after when I was certain about who was leading it, how their action plans were progressing, and how deeply students were getting involved.

Every moment of the July uprising was memorable. Among those, which particular incident do you remember the most?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: The entire July mass uprising holds many events and memories. Some of those are absolutely unforgettable. No matter what stage of life I reach, those memories will remain vivid. One of the most unforgettable event happened on July 15.

On the evening of July 14, Sheikh Hasina gave a speech in which she said -- "If the grandchildren of freedom fighters are not meritorious enough for government jobs, then are all the grandchildren of Razakars meritorious?" Through this statement, everyone who was involved in the quota reform movement was indirectly insulted by being labeled 'Razakars'.

That very night, we broke the locks of our dorms and went to the Raju Sculpture on Dhaka University campus to protest. The Raju Sculpture became a historic symbol of resistance that day.

From there, it was declared that on July 15 we would remain stationed in front of the Raju Sculpture all day. Our main demand was the withdrawal of Sheikh Hasina's statement and a public apology.

We started our sit-in from the morning of July 15. One after another, students from different campuses joined us. Around noon, the decision was made to march through the dormitory areas and then return to the Raju Sculpture.

At that time, various reports started coming in that leaders and activists of Chhatra League and Jubo League gathered on campus and planning to attack us.

I was at the front of the procession then. But I was walking backward, facing the protesters behind me, holding a microphone and chanting slogans. Suddenly, I noticed the leaders at the front were stepping back. Before I could understand what was happening, I turned around and saw the armed forces of Chhatra League and Jubo League advancing toward us. They were carrying rods, hockey sticks, bricks, and stones, and wearing helmets. Their behavior made it clear they were not students -- most were hired thugs.

We retreated a little and continued chanting slogans dividing in scattered groups. But attacks started again from both sides. We got trapped between two buses near the VC Chattar. There was no way out. They mercilessly beat us while throwing bricks and stones.

Those who were at the frontlines of the movement and those who spoke to the media were especially targeted.

That was the first time I was physically attacked directly in the movement. They didn't consider if someone was a boy or a girl -- they beat everyone equally. In my case, they said, "Why do you stay at the front?" and started hitting me with rods.

At one point, while they were beating me like this, I saw a few brothers in front of me with their heads split open and bleeding. They struck me all over my body, even on my head.

At that time, we had several coordination groups active throughout the country. I kept thinking repeatedly that if I fell unconscious here, they wouldn't just beat me -- there had already been incidents where people suffered sexual harassment and assault. Out of that fear, I tried desperately to get out of there.

After running a bit forward, I managed to send a single voice message to the coordination group from my phone. I said, "I am at this location, I don't know how long I'll stay conscious. If anyone is nearby, please save me." After that, I don't remember anything.

Later, I found myself in Dhaka Medical College Hospital. There, our elder brothers Pritom, Sohag, Rifat Rashid, Nahid and many others were present. They had all come to the hospital after receiving those voice messages.
Another painful memory is tied to this -- after the first attack, those who went to Dhaka Medical College Hospital for treatment were attacked a second time. Even in their injured state, they were not allowed to receive medical care. This was not just oppression but cruelty at its worst. The memories of that brutality near the VC Chattar still shake me deeply.

You mentioned that many times you struggled with the fortune of being alive. How are you feeling now?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Throughout the movement, I saw many people die before my eyes, yet I survived. Some died suddenly on the spot. That experience was so traumatic that even now, it's hard to believe a year has passed since the July uprising.

Sometimes I feel it is our fortune -- that we are still alive because we have so much left to do. But other times, I feel it is misfortune, because we are still carrying the burden of that horror.

The Sheikh Hasina government killed hundreds and injured thousands using state machinery. In that situation, how did your family take your participation in the movement?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: In the beginning, when the Bangla Blockade programs or the sit-in at Shahbagh were happening, my family supported me. They understood we were fighting for a reasonable demand.

But when I was attacked on July 15, I was staying in the dormitory, and my parents were not in Dhaka. After the attack, I was taken from Dhaka Medical to Islami Bank Hospital. I received treatment on July 16 and I forcibly took discharge on July 17. During that entire time, my family knew nothing.

I deliberately didn't tell them because I knew they would be scared. I also developed a mindset -- that they have spilled our blood, but we will not give up our demands.

The biggest crisis came after July 17, when the dormitory was shut down. It was hard to explain to my family why I was staying out, why I was at a friend's house. That was the toughest time.

On July 16, the news of Abu Sayeed Bhai's martyrdom stirred deep anger and fear among the people across the country. Fear spread among the families of active protesters, while a strong anger grew among the students. As a result, after July 17, families didn't want us to stay involved in the movement, to take to the streets, or be on the front lines.

They wanted us to leave the dormitory and come home so they could keep an eye on us. But I felt that if I went home, I wouldn't be able to participate directly in the movement anymore. So, after the dormitory was closed, I stayed at a senior sister's place in Lalbagh instead. Although my own home is in Savar, I didn't go there because it was possible to continue movement from my senior's house.

My campus was Begum Badrunnesa Govt. Girls College. On the evening of July 17, we were forcibly evicted from the dormitory. I remained connected to the movement from that Lalbagh house until July 25.

In between, on July 17, I returned to the dormitory after being forcibly discharged from the hospital. That day, we expelled the Chhatra League from the dormitory. Afterwards, the administration cut off our water, gas, and electricity to forcibly remove us.

The dormitory superintendent, provost, and proctor -- the officials in charge -- clearly said that if any attack happened at night, they would not be responsible.

We didn't tell our families about these things because we wanted to continue the movement.

On July 18, I went to my senior sister's house. My mother kept calling repeatedly, asking me to come home. At that time, the situation was that gunfire was happening openly on the streets, and people were dying.
My mother said, "If you go out from home, at least let me know, so that if I don’t find you later, I know where to look for your body."

Those words brought a kind of death sense inside me. We felt that our families were accepting this truth -- that maybe we wouldn't survive. And we were in a position where there was no way back. Because we had come so far that if we turned back, it would be certain death. Moving forward was the only hope.

How was your mental state at that time?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: After July 18, the situation became even more terrifying. My family kept urging me to come back home. But every morning when we left for the day's program, we thought -- maybe today we won't be able to return home.

Every morning, as I left the house, I would look back once -- thinking this might be the last time I see it. The entire month of July passed like this. Even from outside the movement, you can understand how deeply it affected us through these experiences.

For many, the movement has become a trauma. Have you felt any long-term impact of it within yourself?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: In early September, right after the uprising -- suddenly one day, I became extremely ill. I had severe difficulty with breathing, and it felt like my throat was burning from the inside. It felt like my throat was on fire.

Earlier, when I was attacked on July 15, I had serious injuries on my hands and feet. When I became sick in September, those areas felt numb again. I couldn't move my hands and feet. That night was very painful, and the next morning I went to CMH (Combined Military Hospital).

At that time, protesting students received free treatment at CMH, and the care there was good. That's where I received my second round of treatment. Along with medical treatment, they recommended me to visit a mental health counselor because of my physical condition as well as my mental state and conversations -- they thought I needed counseling.
The events of July still haunt me. Even now, I watch various videos -- often, I don't even understand why tears come to my eyes. Watching those videos, I feel they are not just videos; I have seen even more horrifying things with my own eyes.

In fact, the entire month of July still plays like a 'short summary' before my eyes. These feelings are hard to express in words. I don't think anyone who witnessed that time from the front lines could fully express these emotions.

Have you taken any mental counselling?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: I have not yet visited any mental health professional. Once, a group called me for mental health treatment, but I couldn't make time. After that, there was no further contact.
Since July, I have been actively involved in the anti-discrimination student movement. I have had to go to many places and attend meetings with various organizations. So, I haven't really had time for mental refreshment.

You also had a role as an organizer in the movement. How was that experience?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: After July 24, my involvement increased even more. I was a member of the central executive committee of the anti-discrimination student movement. Among the major crises, this platform played a significant role.

We regularly met with various student organizations, political parties, and people involved in the movement. At that time, six of us were under security custody -- Asif Bhai, Nahid Bhai, Rifaat Rashid, Mahin Bhai, and others. We had a team that met every evening or night. Even if only for 20-30 minutes, we would have conversations discussing the next programs, where and how to conduct public outreach -- these were the topics we focused on.

After the residential halls were closed indefinitely on July 17, where were you? How did you keep in touch with other protesters?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Immediately after the events of July 16, on July 17, the government ordered the indefinite closure of residential halls at Dhaka University and other educational institutions. Our teachers then said that proof of vacating the halls will be sent to the administration. At that time, it did not seem safe to go home because my family was afraid. More importantly, if I went home, I wouldn't have been able to actively participate in the movement.

So, I stayed at the house of a senior sister. At that time, internet was off in many parts of the city, mobile recharge was unavailable, and services like bKash (mobile money) were down. All in all, an extreme environment of isolation was created. It felt like they wanted to stop the movement by cutting off our communication. But we did not give up.

We had several WhatsApp and Messenger groups already set up. Coordinators from different campuses were connected through these groups. When the internet went off, we kept in touch by phone calls. Although phone calls weren't completely safe either and the network was weak, so often, we physically moved from one place to another to deliver information.

On July 18, we stayed all day at the Azimpur Colony corner, in front of Eden College. There was almost no internet all day. We returned home in the evening and the Wi-Fi wasn't working. This was anticipated; we already knew the internet might be shut down. So we had already downloaded VPNs beforehand sensing the government move.

That day, phone recharge was also impossible. As the network was completely down, we resumed physical movement to communicate. For example, someone from Azimpur would go to Nilkhet and inform others -- who would then go to Shahbagh and spread the message.

By maintaining communication this way, we foiled the government's attempts to isolate us and continued the movement.

On August 3, Nahid Islam announced the one-point demand for Sheikh Hasina's resignation at Shaheed Minar, and you were very close to him. How did you feel that day?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Since August 1, among the student community, the demand for Sheikh Hasina's resignation had become main issue. Although the formal announcement was on August 3, the demand had already spread through the streets and slogans.

At that time, I was stationed at Rayerbagh. Since July 25, I had been tracked -- after my photos were circulated by security forces, people were looking for me in various places. There were even rumors of my death.

For security reasons, I changed my location and went to Jatrabari. There was a program at Shaheed Minar on August 3. I decided I would be there at Shaheed Minar anyway. Even though there was gunfire in the morning that day, I felt I had to be at Shaheed Minar at this moment, because history was being made there.

On the morning of August 3, I woke up, ate a bit, and got ready. I was staying at a friend's house. As I was leaving, I looked back at the locked door one last time, thinking I might not return. We had a fear that maybe there would be an attack on Shaheed Minar, arrests, or sniper shots. Sniper shots had already happened in many places. But I left with joy, thinking, okay, I'm trying my best until the end. Participating in this movement, in such a crisis, I felt like a matter of pride. It felt like we were succeeding, while many others could not.

The entire Rayerbagh streets were jammed; students had blocked the flyover and other roads. When I showed my ID card, and since a coordinator panel had already been announced, the students themselves cleared the road, with one person standing in front of a CNG (auto rickshaw) to open the path. Asif Bhai was at Shaheed Minar. Nahid Bhai had not yet arrived.

What I saw there is hard to put into words. Officially, the demand had not been declared yet, but in people's eyes, faces, and behavior, the announcement was already there. Everyone was chanting "Ek Dofa, Ek Dabi, Sheikh Hasina Kobe Jabi?" Standing at Shaheed Minar, I felt if I died right there, it would be meaningful. I was able to participate, I had contributed something, and that made me fulfilled.

People were packed tightly. There was no space to even drop a pin. Despite the heat, sun, and rain soaking their clothes, no one showed fatigue or fear. They knew the police could shoot, sniper shots could happen -- but they stood with spiritual strength.

Afterward, I returned home. My mother asked, "Do you think Sheikh Hasina will leave because of the students' one-point demand or resignation call?" I thought, no, she won't. We knew she wouldn't resign voluntarily. But seeing the huge crowd at Shaheed Minar that day -- none of them came to survive; they all came ready to die. If she can stay by stepping over so many people's blood, then we want to know -- how many bullets does Sheikh Hasina have? How much blood can they watch? How far will they go?
Hasina's fall is certain. Because at Shaheed Minar, I saw that these people cannot go home without fulfilling this one demand.

Many believe that one of the nine-point demands was essentially the same as the one-point demand. Do you think so?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Our nine demands were not merely a list of demands; rather, they were a kind of strategy. Ultimately, if someone tries to cut down the nine demands, they will find that the one-point demand was already embedded within them. The first demand was to acknowledge responsibility for all killings and to apologize. Now, 'apologizing' essentially means admitting guilt, and admitting guilt means stepping down. Because if someone takes such responsibility, he or she cannot remain in office. So, in a way, it was a trap -- a carefully designed snare.

We knew Sheikh Hasina's personality well that she would not remove anyone from the cabinet, would never force anyone to resign, and most importantly, she would never apologize. This is why the nine demands were essentially the path towards the one demand. We knew that if the nine demands were pushed forward, the only alternative would be the one-point demand. Accepting the nine demands meant Sheikh Hasina's resignation, which she would never do. We knew that too.

Do you think this movement is the outcome of 16 years of authoritarian rule under Sheikh Hasina?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: We believe this movement of our generation is the result of 16 years of deprivation. The quota movement was just an expression of it, but beneath it was a long history of anger, humiliation, and disrespect. Unconsciously, we wanted to take revenge for those 16 years of humiliation. Although the movement was led by students, it was not just a student movement. At one point, it transformed into a mass uprising. This transition became very clear during the "Drohajatra" on August 2 and the huge gathering at Shahid Minar on August 3.

Civil society played a big role here. Initially, teachers from Jahangirnagar University, Mohammadpur, and other universities joined the movement. Then other teachers from various universities and city teachers gained courage. The march to Shahid Minar was also a turning point. It became clear that the movement was not just of the students, but teachers, cultural activists, and common people were also coming together.

After the closure of the residential halls on July 17, the movement was largely carried forward by students from private universities. How do you view their contribution?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: After July 17, on July 18, students from private universities in areas like Bashundhara and Uttara started taking to the streets in large numbers. Students from BRAC, NSU, and all other private universities expressed solidarity with the movement. This marked a turning point in the movement because such direct participation from the urban middle class on such a large scale had never been seen before in Bangladesh. It wasn't just the students; their family members were also involved. This made the July uprising a typical movement of the urban middle class.

That day, Mughdo Bhai was martyred, many boys and girls were injured, and several others were martyred as well. Although these details were not widely publicized at the time, we knew many had been killed and injured. 

News of these martyrs and injured spread among their families and society, and from July 18 onward, the involvement and participation of the urban middle class increased significantly.

Women's participation in the uprising was remarkable. Many have even called it a women's movement. How do you see it?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Throughout the month of July, women were not behind; they stepped forward very courageously. Women marched with their head high. They fought shoulder to shoulder with their comrades. This widespread participation of women was a hopeful sign for us. 

Unfortunately, after July, we were unable to keep the women involved. Many stepped back due to personal or circumstantial reasons. When political or reform discussions took place, women's voices were often not heard. Political leadership tried to push them out of their spaces. 

Naturally, one gains leadership by standing in the front lines on the streets, but after July, obstacles arose for women's political participation. Their voices received less importance. This misogynistic attitude reduced opportunities for women, which destroyed an important potential.

Can you mention a unique aspect of the July uprising?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: One distinctive aspect of this mass uprising is that it brought forth thousands of new faces -- young leaders, emerging politicians -- who weren't previously part of the political landscape. In the past, entering politics often required family lineage and a long journey. But after the July uprising, young people found a direct path into political engagement. This is a rare and significant moment in the political history of Bangladesh.

Have you been able to utilize the opportunities that emerged after the uprising?

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: Not fully yet. But awareness around reform has definitely increased among the people. With public support, it's now somewhat possible to push for reforms. There's also been a rise in young people becoming interested in politics, which wasn't common earlier. The July uprising opened the door of many possibilities. People made sacrifices; some even became martyrs for the country. Our hope is that these opportunities will be harnessed to bring about real reform, which was the fundamental goal of the mass movement.

BSS: Thank you!

Sinthiya Zaheen Ayesha: You're welcome and thanks to BSS.