3 of my friends and I, all of us resident doctors in various disciplines, had made extremely last minute plans to get to the walk that was organised for the 20th. I thankfully have a friend who lives fairly close to Jantar Mantar, and we were able to leave our things at their place while we were at the protest. We had decided to leave our phones at their house-since all of us had been extremely critical of the current government online, as well as in correspondences to our friends and family-and one of my friends carried a burner phone, in order to record the protest.

We reached Jantar Mantar at around 2:00am, fearing that the police may stop people from entering the site later in the day (this was of course what happened), and we milled through the crowd, talking to some of the other protestors at the site. At some point, we realised that the police presence had increased significantly, and the rapid action forces, had also been deputised to "deal" with us. At this point, I honestly still wasn't feeling scared at all. We were surrounded by several like minded people, who were also opposed to the current ruling party. It genuinely felt like we could speak with ease, for the first time in 12 years. We then found out, that the cops had started welding the barricades together. I'll admit that this is when I felt genuine fear. The minute we heard about this happening, the people around me immediately started talking about Jallianwala Bagh. Jallianwala Bagh, for those who don't know about the massacre, was a peaceful site of protest, where a large group of Indians had gathered to protest, during the Indian fight for independence. General Dyer, had then ordered all exits to be sealed, and opened fire on the protestors. A lot of what India faces under this government, feels eerily familiar to what she faced under British colonial rule.

Eventually, some of the protestors were able to push over the barricades, and we were able to start trying to move towards the parliament. That's unfortunately, when the violence began. The cops and RAF, started very indiscriminately lathi charging the crowd. There was no violence from our side. The cops had even parked a truck full of massive rocks, right by the protest site, probably hoping that the protestors would make use of them. In the end, we only have videos of the police themselves, chucking the rocks to make it look like the protest had been violent. And even after getting beaten up, the only responses I saw from the protestors, were pleas to be allowed to continue the march. We saw a lot of young students, face police brutality for the first time, and have to quickly come to the understanding, that the cops were not there to help them.

My friends and I had primarily gone, because we knew the cops would attempt to attack the protestors, and we wanted to provide whatever little medical aid we could. We had reached the site with 6 bags of saline, and at least 50 rolls of gauze, among other supplies. We were completely out by the time we left at night. I saw a lot of scalp and head injuries-it seemed like the wonderful police had gone out of their way to aim at protestors heads. I also saw a concerning number of children who had been injured by them. I counted 6 cases of eardrum rupture, and more bruises and cuts than I could keep track of. It was while I was attending to one of the injured protestors, that I was hit with the lathi for the first time. They saw very clearly, that I was in my doctor's coat, stethoscope in my pocket, and was treating a patient. They still tried to physically assault me. It was my fellow protestors, who immediately came to my defense, and got in between the police and I. This was our reality at the time. The only people we could rely on, were each other. A friend of mine was almost carted off by the police, to be placed under unlawful detention. He, like all of our little group, was only treating the injuries of the protestors. It was only because of the protestors, once again, that he was able to escape from their hold, and disappear back into the crowd. My friend who carried his burner phone, had it snatched from his hand, stomped on, and was then asked who was paying him to be there. We were a fair distance away from the tear gas shells, so we didn't experience the effects of the expired canisters the cops threw at the protests who were closer to the parliament. I found out after reaching the airport, that it was the nearby gurudwara and mosque, who were sheltering the protestors, and treating the inflammation inflicted by the tear gas. The same people, the media like to call Khalistanis or Pakistanis, they were the people who stepped up to help the protestors who were getting gassed by the cops.

We did not make it to the parliament, it's true. The delhi police and the RAF, who had all conveniently "lost" their name tags, made sure of it. But honestly, I can't find any sort of disappointment in myself. For the past few years, I have felt so alone, wondering why the people simply accepted the harm this government has inflicted on our country and our communities. But I came to realise that I wasn't alone, and I never had been. There I was, surrounded by people of all ages, who wanted better for this country. And it filled me with a sense of patriotism, that I hadn't felt in so long. These were ordinary people, who had taken leave from their jobs and studies, and were here, right beside me, demanding a better India.