Notes from Jantar Mantar - I
Or Where are you?
13.07.2026
The rain from yesterday hasn’t helped. The humidity and heat in the air has crossed all limits. The AC in the metro is the only relief. The metro train has stopped somewhere. It is dark outside. A question comes to mind - do we realize that the train is in a tunnel, a few feet beneath the ground and that we might be under a house or road at the moment? There is not much time to ponder upon this. The train moves.
The first thing I see upon coming out of the Janpath metro station are barricades. These ugly yellow barricades by the Delhi police are no strangers to me for there are plenty in JNU campus. I had once proposed during a symposium at my department that the Delhi police could at least try changing the colors of these barricades. Pink would be a great start. Blue is also good. But no oranges please.
The last week I had arrived here in the blazing heat of the afternoon, I had of course seen these barricades but what I had been more struck by was the ordinariness of the area outside Jantar Mantar. People went about their work on Tolstoy road as if it was just another day. It was difficult to believe that hardly a few meters away from this space, one of the most important protests in the country was taking place. For a moment I had the feeling that I had arrived at the wrong location. I googled and found that I had keep walking few more steps to reach the protest site.
When I went ahead I realized that I had arrived. Plenty of police vehicles, tourist buses, and ambulance are parked outside the protest site. When I went in after the security check I was awestruck and disturbed by the sheer number of security personnel in the protest area. Since it was afternoon, very few protestors were around and I felt demotivated initially.
But today I had arrived in the evening and there were more people. Like last time, I see the security people sitting at the back fanning themselves with identical looking hand fans. However, this time they also have a plate in their laps with small circular ghewars. They are laughing while stuffing their ugly mouths with a piece every now and then. I have the strong urge to give a slap to each of them. There are so many people around - protestors, content creators, and people from the media - that I feel disoriented.
I go close to the stage and see Sonam. His grey hair flickering in the air from the fan beside him. He is looking at his tablet like last week. But this time a volunteer is sitting beside him massaging his hands. It is impossible to conceive that this man hasn’t eaten anything in the last 16 days. In a moment Ashutosh Ranka takes up the mic and declares that Deepak Kumar, a student who has been on hunger strike for the last 16 days, is being taken to the hospital given his dire condition. Many more students continue to fast in their small tents by the wall on the side. Posters outside their tents declare medical details like their blood pressure and the total weight loss.
There is a tarpaulin sheet over area near the stage to protect the protestors from rain. Last week it had not been here. Abhijit Dipke and others had to fight the police to get it approved. The black tarpaulin is amplifying the humidity and heat. Every thing that is capable of sweating is sweating beyond any measure. Every other person I see is trying to make a reel, take an interview, or like the official photographers of the government, trying to record the event. I also see the ‘America Kya Kehta Tha’ guy trying to take a selfie with Abhijit. There is an old couple sitting on chairs close to the stage. Another couple - an interviewer and his cameraman - approach them to conduct a short interview. I wonder how I will soon see these interviews and images on Instagram reels and posts when I go back to my hostel.
I try to get out of the tarpaulin’s shade. A substantial crowd has gathered around an individual. He is surrounded by several cameras and his soiled Jujutsu Kaisen t-shirt is holding mics that look like ECG equipment. A person is holding a plastic bottle as if it is a mic. I hadn’t noticed it while taking the photo but now that I look at it I find it amusing and wonder if others had noticed it. I think I have seen this guy in JNU but I am not sure. One reporter is trying to rile him up with redundant questions. When the guy speaks, his neck veins pop out and give weight to his words. In every answer he tries to quote a poet. While speaking about the utter shamelessness and unaccountability of the current regime, he quotes a few lines from a poem by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar. I quickly note them down in my journal:
सच है, विपत्ति जब आती है,
कायर को ही दहलाती है,
सूरमा नहीं विचलित होते,
क्षण एक नहीं धीरज खोते,
विघ्नों को गले लगाते हैं,
काँटों में राह बनाते हैं।
After spending some time at the back, I go closer to the stage area again. A ‘Nishulk’ (free) library has been set up by few protestors near the stage. I was intrigued by the titles of the books - Das Dhoke, Vyavharik Vedanta, Deep Work, etc. Sitting close to it were students, some of whom were reading books or making posters. On the stage, the team of CJP leaders have gathered around Sonam. I cannot hear what they are talking about. The boy who was massaging Sonam’s hand is now giving water to the plant on the stage through an electric kettle. Is it hot water? I ask myself.
When I make my way out of the protest area, I hear the chatter of the crowd and the muffled voice of someone giving a speech. The security team is stretched out on the small chairs looking like those insufferable relatives after the wedding feast. Suddenly I see the anchor Saurabh Dwivedi making his way in through the security with his camera team. I look at him because I know him. He also looks at me as if he knows me. The crowd soon starts to gather around him. I make my way out.
When I arrive on Tolstoy road, the sound of the protest area has quietened so much as if doesn’t exist. I think about Sonam and others while the ugly barricades wait for me near Janpath metro station. . .