The true measure of any vibrant and mature democracy lies not in the policies of its majority governments, but by the state of dissent and the “right to question” in the country. Whenever repressive policies, discriminatory laws or administrative arbitrariness prevail, universities and student organisations are the first to raise the banner of resistance. Students are not merely people who study for a degree. They are the vigilant soul of democracy, holding up a mirror to the state’s authoritarianism.
Unfortunately, the scenario in India over the past few years shows that the state has stopped recognising its own educated youth as citizens. Students who ask questions are branded as “anti-social elements,” “troublemakers” and “enemies of the state.” They are being subjected to the full force of the police apparatus.
Whether it was the anti-Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA)-National Register of Citizens (NRC) movement of 2019-20 or recent protests for education and student rights organised under the aegis of the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) and student groups, the state’s response has remained the same: lathi-charges, tear gas shells, illegal detentions and brutality that leaves victims physically disabled.
The most alarming aspect of this entire sequence of events is the shifting attitude of India’s judiciary. When police batons are cracking the skulls and blinding the eyes of unarmed students, the judiciary’s dismissal – “We are not interested in videos and photographs; do not waste the court’s time” – is not merely a courtroom remark, it is a betrayal of the constitutional faith that the country’s citizens place in the rule of law.
The storm of protests against the CAA and the NRC wasn’t just a political protest; it was a civic struggle to preserve the secular fabric of India. Jamia Millia Islamia (JMI) and Aligarh Muslim University (AMU) became the epicentre of this struggle.
The night of December 15, 2019, is etched in the history of Indian democracy. Without prior permission, police forces, armed with heavy weapons, entered the JMI campus. Tear gas shells were fired and the police broke the windows of the library (Ibn-e-Sina Library) to enter. At that time, hundreds of students in the library were preparing for upcoming exams. They had no connection with any violent protest taking place on the road.
Closed circuit television (CCTV) camera images clearly showed masked policemen wielding batons and lathis, hiding behind tables and chairs and carrying out lethal attacks on helpless students.
The story of Mohammad Minhajuddin, an LLM student at JMI, became the most painful symbol of police brutality. Minhajuddin was quietly studying in the library at the time. Policemen pulled him from under his desk and hit him squarely in the face with batons.
“I was just studying. Suddenly, the policemen entered and, without asking anything, began hitting me repeatedly with batons. My eye started bleeding and I lost my vision. I pleaded with them with folded hands that I wasn’t a protester, but they didn’t listen,” Minhajuddin said in a statement after the incident.
Upon arrival at the hospital, doctors confirmed that his left eyeball had been severely ruptured and he had lost his vision permanently. A bright student who wanted to study law and fight for justice was left disabled for life by the state’s own law enforcement machinery.
Assuming this police brutality was limited to 2019 would be a grave mistake. This script of student repression is being written with equally deadly force today. In recent days, when the CJP and other student unions called for peaceful protests against administrative irregularities, paper leaks and the state’s repressive policies, the same old violent face of the police appeared again.
Independent journalistic platforms The Wire and Article 14 have published detailed, on-the-ground investigative reports on police brutality during the CJP protests. These reports have exposed the state’s lie that “police use only minimal force.”
Case studies reported by these media outlets and eyewitness accounts prove that the police now resort to lathi-charge not to disperse protests, but with the intention of permanently disabling and intimidating students.
According to reports by The Wire and Article 14, police resorted to baton-charge and tear-gas shells at close range against students peacefully marching on the streets of Delhi. In this brutality, a young student, whose identity was kept confidential for security and privacy reasons, was struck in the face by a police officer with a heavy lathi blow from very close range. The lathi hit his right eye directly.
The hospital emergency report recorded that the student’s cornea and retina were completely damaged. Despite the tireless efforts of the doctors at the All-India Medical Sciences (AIIMS) and Safdarjung hospitals, the young man completely lost the sight in his eye.
Speaking to Article 14, a friend of the victim said, “We weren’t throwing stones. We were just raising slogans for our rights. The police surrounded us. A policeman hit us in the eye with a baton. Even when he fell down and started bleeding, the police continued dragging him and delayed taking him to the hospital.”
This incident is proof that police tactics have remained unchanged from Minhajuddin’s time. Attacking unarmed students’ vulnerable areas such as the head and eyes has now become standard police procedure.
The most tragic aspect of this state repression is that it crosses all boundaries of gender sensitivity. The use of force, threats of sexual assault and mental torture against female students by male police officers have become commonplace. During the CJP protests and the CAA-NRC protests, female students have alleged horrific sexual harassment and gender-based violence while in police custody.
The organised conspiracy to destroy students’ careers is not limited to physical violence, but legal violence has also become a weapon against students. Draconian laws like Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), sedition and damage to public property are imposed on protesting students. Due to the filing of first information reports (FIR), students’ passports are revoked, they are barred from going abroad for higher education and they are disqualified from appearing in government job examinations. This is an organised state-sponsored mechanism aimed at breaking the thinking and backbone of the youth.
When the executive becomes authoritarian and the police behave like the “personal henchmen” of a political party, citizens turn to the Supreme Court as a last resort. But in recent years, the judiciary’s attitude has been disappointing and victim-blaming. When cases of CJP protests and police brutality were raised in the top court and lawyers attempted to present firsthand videos, photographs and medical reports of police violence, the court’s oral observations were a severe blow to constitutional jurisprudence.
When the state treats its own youth and students as its enemies, when the police become predators instead of protectors and when evidence of victims’ injuries is dismissed as a “waste of time” at the highest level of justice, that society has entered a profound moral and constitutional crisis.
The Prakash Singh judgment mandates the formation of a Police Complaints Authority and establishes individual criminal liability for officers who lathi-charge or use force during protests. The judiciary must abandon its procedural indifference and return to its role as an active guardian to protect citizens’ fundamental rights. Video and digital evidence must be accepted as essential evidence.
No matter how horrific the state’s repression, history bears witness that no dictatorship can permanently suppress the consciousness of students. As long as the country’s students, enlightened citizens and justice-loving people continue to raise their voices against police brutality and this state tyranny, the last flame of democracy will not be extinguished.
The fight for justice may be long and difficult, but this fight for truth and rights must continue.
This post was last modified on July 31, 2026 5:10 pm