TBS
On 3 August 2024, as monsoon drizzle kissed the Shaheed Minar, we stood in anticipation for the final call for Uprising. It was the day the popular uprising found a singular voice, and with it, the beginning of the end for a fascist regime that had ruled through fear.
By late afternoon, the monument—long a site of sacrifice and solemnity—transformed into the epicentre of a storm brewing across the nation. The air, heavy with grief and defiance from weeks of bloodshed, now pulsed with something different: resolve.
For weeks, we had marched through tear gas and bullets. We saw death and despair—and how people rose disregarding their lives. I was standing at the Shaheed Minar, my memories fresh from the previous day’s Droho Jatra.
We have reached a decision on a one-point demand to ensure the safety of people’s lives and establish justice in society. The one-point demand is—the resignation of this government, including Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, and the abolition of fascism.
The sky was grey and gloomy; it was drizzling. Yet, as the day progressed, people kept coming. And they kept coming for hours. There were everyone—from parents with their toddlers, to young students, progressive ladies walking side by side conservative men and chanting slogans together, professors and rickshaw-pullers. Until this moment, our rage had many faces, many voices. It was on this day that it found its endgame.
As the afternoon wore on, the number of protesters continued to grow. The crowd swelled to such an extent that there was no space left to stand around the Shaheed Minar and the surrounding areas. The protesters were chanting slogans like ‘My brother lies in the grave, why is the killer still free?’, ‘Justice, justice—we want justice!’, ‘We’ve given blood before, and we’ll give blood again!’, ‘One demand—Hasina must resign!’ or ‘There’s a storm in my chest; shoot me, I’ve bared my chest.’.
The heart of the protest was Nahid Islam, a leading coordinator of the Anti-Discrimination Student Movement, the man who later became one of the biggest names of our national politics. There were Asif Mahmud Shojib Bhuiyan, Mahfuj Alam, Hasnat Abdullah and Sarjis Alam, along with other leading student leaders.
“We have reached a decision on a one-point demand to ensure the safety of people’s lives and establish justice in society. The one-point demand is—the resignation of this government, including Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina, and the abolition of fascism,” Nahid Islam declared.
The 1-point demand was more than a slogan—it was a compass. Everyone knew Hasina must go; but the 1-point demand gave it a formal declaration. There was no room left for ambiguity, no turning back.
Nahid Islam echoed our conviction that day, “Those who have committed the murders are the killers—how can we expect them to deliver justice? We do not expect justice from them. We are not afraid of martyrdom.”
Later, Asif Mahmud, laid out a detailed roadmap for non-cooperation: no taxes, no utility payments, no attendance at schools or offices, no offshore transaction, no remittance, no cooperation with the government.
Before the 1-point demand, the student coordinators had issued 9-point demands, which included the resignation of Sheikh Hasina. Abdul Qader, the coordinator who declared the 9-point demands, told TBS how they progressed from 9-point to the ultimate 1-point demand.
“We, the four second-layer coordinators, decided on the night of 2 August that on the next day, we will declare the 1-point demand. There were some seniors who were not willing to push for 1-point demand even till the morning of 3 August. I contacted my seniors and started my journey at 12 noon from my hideout at Gulshan. When I arrived, I found a sea of people.”
Qader continued, “One of our comrades took me to the Shaheed Minar from the Sheikh Rasel Tower. The people were excited, also anxious. There was anger, anguish, and hope for a new dawn. I saw that Nahid bhai, Asif bhai, Mahfuj bhai, Hasnat, Sarjis and Baker were standing at one side. When I went there, Mahfuj bhai asked me—what did you guys discuss?”
“Nahid bhai was delivering a speech, and the people there were demanding for 1-point. They were eager to hear it from Nahid bhai. Finally, Nahid bhai declared 1-point,” Qader said, “It was the popular demand. The people wanted Hasina out. Their conviction changed the opinions of the doubters within our ranks. And the people fulfilled the 1-point demand. They banished Hasina.”
One of the speakers at Shaheed Minar that day was Barrister Manzur Al Matin. He recalled, “On that day, it became clear that the fall of the Hasina regime was just a matter of time. From that programme, there were calls for dismantling the fascist system, the system that enabled Hasina to carry out massacres. It was an expression of the collective will of the people. Hasina’s fate was sealed.”
From Shahbagh to Doel Chattar, from Dhaka Medical to Polashi, the city’s arteries were flooded with people. Unity turned ordinary voices into thunder, ordinary citizens into agents of change.
Barrister Manzur Al Matin also shared the same sentiment.
“When I was near Jagannath Hall, I saw a procession coming from Rampura. There was no end to that procession. People kept coming like waves. I could not hold myself then. It didn’t matter if I had lived to see the end of Hasina, but I knew that the day had come close.”
Even as the regime scrambled to disrupt communication, shut down the internet, or deploy curfews, it could no longer sever this bond. Resistance had gone offline—spreading by word of mouth, through slogans yelled from rooftops, in poems read under candlelight. Every alley became a front of the movement. And this was the result of the collective defiance.
Mollik Wasi Uddin Tami, office secretary at Bangladesh Jatiotabadi Chatra Dal’s Dhaka University unit, recalled the memory of the day and how he joined the march with his comrades.
“Even before the 3rd, the dominance of the Chhatra League on the Dhaka University campus had already begun to crumble. Among ourselves—members of the Chhatra Dal—we would often discuss the remnants of their control across campus: the caricatures mocking figures like Tarique Rahman, Mirza Fakhrul Islam Alamgir, and Dr Yunus hanging on the TSC walls; the slogans reading “Joy Joy Chhatra League” scrawled on interior walls; and the portrait of the autocrat Sheikh Hasina on the metro rail pillar—wondering how we might deface or remove them.”
He added, “On the afternoon of the 3rd August, when I arrived at the Shaheed Minar, a massive crowd had already gathered. I met Sahos Da (Ganesh Chandra Roy Sahos), the President of the Dhaka University Chhatra Dal, on the steps at the base of the monument. After chanting slogans for a while, I moved to the other side of the Shaheed Minar, where I found some seniors from the 2014–15 session. As soon as I shared the idea with them, they all agreed without hesitation, and we set off.”
On the way, they picked up several juniors, and by the time they reached TSC, they saw that Hasina’s image was still there. So, without delay, they entered the TSC premises and took down both the “Joy Joy Chhatra League” slogan and the caricatures.
“Returning to the Shaheed Minar area,” Wasi continued, “we found that Nahid and Mahfuj had just announced the one-point demand on behalf of the Anti-Discrimination Student Movement. Soon after, under the leadership of Imon Bhai, the Organising Secretary of Dhaka University Chhatra Dal, an effigy of Hasina was set ablaze.”
The defining moment was 3 August. It was the day grief found direction, and fear gave way to hope. It was the rise of a new social contract—free from fear, rooted in justice.
I remember standing at the Shaheed Minar first, then at the Raju Memorial, as the rain finally stopped. The sky turned blue with a tinge of black clouds. Around me, exhausted bodies, tear-streaked faces, big smiles. The nation was still bleeding. But on this day, it had set its course, and declared it to the world. The moral tide had shifted. The July Uprising, which began in grief, now marched in confidence. The seeds sown in despair had grown into defiance. And within the next two days, victory came.