From public universities to private campuses, from madrasah students to rickshaw-pullers, people from all walks of life stood shoulder to shoulder, forging the historic July August movement in defiance of violence and injustice. These are the voices of those who were there – who marched, who bled, who carried the fallen and who refused to stay silent. Not just stories of protest, but of unity, sacrifice and unshaken hope for a different future.

Noor Mohammad
Rickshaw-puller who carried the body of Golam Nafiz
On 4 August, I was heading toward Farmgate with a passenger. As I arrived, I saw chaos — gunshots, stones flying, tear gas filling the air. I thought I might die right there.
Suddenly, a police officer stopped me. He told my passenger to get off. Then he pointed to something and said, “Pick that up.” I didn’t understand at first. Then I saw him — a young man lying lifeless on the road, his forehead tied with the flag of Bangladesh. Blood was pouring down his face.
The officer said, “Where you take him is your business. Just move quickly.” Another one told me to take him to the hospital. I lifted the body onto my rickshaw and asked if someone could sit behind with him. No one agreed. One officer cursed at me and yelled, “Pull fast or I’ll shoot you!”
I rode as fast as I could. First to Al Razi Medical, then to the Eye Hospital. Both refused to take him. Finally, I went to Suhrawardy Hospital. His blood soaked my rickshaw. His hand kept hitting the chain until I tied it to the rod. The next day, I saw my rickshaw in the newspaper. That’s how Nafiz’s uncle found me. That’s when I learned the boy’s name: Golam Nafiz.
For days after, I couldn’t drive the rickshaw properly. I kept smelling blood. I kept seeing his face. Eventually, I sold the rickshaw for 35,000 taka. It’s now preserved at the July Uprising Memorial Museum.
All I want now is to meet Dr Yunus. I still have the flag and stick from that day. I want to give it to him as a gift. In return, I don’t ask for much — just a job. Something simple, something that lets me live with dignity.