Despite the police action on July 20, protestors returned to Jantar Mantar to continue demanding the resignation of Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan. There is still a crowd of nearly 10,000 to 15,000 people at the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP) protest.
But running a protest is not easy. It is a volatile space and yet the massive crowd moves in lines, stands in queues, fans each other, trusts and helps each other. The protest site is being cleaned by people who don’t like trash strewn around. Anyone trying to incite the crowd is being asked to calm down.
To understand how the protest is being held together, Newslaundry spoke to the volunteers – both official and unofficial, revealing two parallel systems. One that runs on instinct. The other runs on coordination. Together, they keep the protest functioning.
The official hierarchy
Most volunteers we met in the crowd had not filled out any forms or signed up. They simply began helping wherever there was a gap.
The hierarchy goes like this: the CJP leadership, followed by 13 core team members, nearly 50 marshal coordinators, and over 100 current volunteers, explained Ram Chandel, a 32-year-old member of the core team.
“New students keep joining because sometimes volunteers get tired and need some time to recover. Almost 3,000 volunteers have helped us so far.”
There are several teams for running the protest smoothly. These include ground communication, crowd management, waste management, security, social media, food and medicine.
Ram explained that while CJP founder Abhijeet Dipke and their spokespersons Saurav Das and Ashutosh Ranka are tasked with meeting prominent personalities or official delegations who come to show solidarity, the volunteers are tasked with bringing them in.
“I am currently managing the entry of media personnel. Everyone works in different departments. Most volunteers help each other out, while around 25 of the total 100 current volunteers have the authority to make decisions,” he added.
On being asked if the violence on July 20 could have been prevented, Ram said, “Yes, if we had more volunteers. But we were mostly managing through WhatsApp, and the government completely shut down the internet that day. We could not coordinate; we couldn’t contact kids near Bangla Sahib; we basically got stuck. Only a few people had walkie-talkies and the crowd was a lot – their batteries also drained.”
According to Khushi Kumari, a 17-year-old marshal coordinator, every morning instructions are circulated through WhatsApp groups, assigning volunteers to various tasks. If a sudden need arises during the day, coordinators reassign volunteers on the ground. Each team has several heads who work in informal shifts, overseeing both official volunteers and those who spontaneously join in.
After the police action on July 20, the process also became more selective. Kumari now maintains a register of around 80 volunteers, marking stars next to those the organisers consider trustworthy enough to be deployed in sensitive areas. The core team also meets CJP spokespersons once a day before instructions are relayed to volunteers.
That structure, however, is not where most volunteers begin.
Twenty-three-year-old law student Aftab Singh spent his first three days simply helping outside the protest site. He registered his name as a volunteer and was called whenever extra hands were needed. Only later was he absorbed into the core team.
Today, he is one of three people overseeing security around the stage, where roughly 25 volunteers manage entry, crowd control and sound.
Media personnel are allowed inside only after their identity cards are checked. Volunteers stationed outside the barricades alert the security team if any disruption develops, with information relayed through walkie-talkies introduced after Sonam Wangchuk was forcibly taken away by the Delhi Police on July 18.
A similar path eventually led 17-year-old Prince Kumar to a marshal coordinator badge.
“I am Prince Kumar, from Nawada, Bihar. I have been coming here for the past 8 days. I didn’t have to give my name anywhere for volunteering. In the beginning, when I came inside, I was told not to let people use expletive slogans, or incite the crowd for violence. So, we did that. Four days ago, they gave me this tag,” the 17-year-old said.
“My parents know I am here but they scolded me for coming here. I will show you the number of missed calls,” he added.
When this reporter asked him to inform them that he was fine, he said, “I told them I am fine but they are not understanding - wo andhbhakt hain (they are blind worshippers). Half the people who have come here have families with andhbhakts saying that Modi ji is their God. I know we need to try to make them understand too but there is no use. They don’t understand.”
Speaking of his responsibilities, he said, “Our responsibilities include crowd management – not to let people jump over the railing. Sometimes we have to remove them or tell them they can’t come in and they get offended at that, sometimes even utter expletives. Lekin hum seh lete hain. (But we bear it). If everybody is allowed to come here, it will become chaotic.”
Every day, about 30 to 40 core members and marshal coordinators meet to decide the day’s plan before instructions are passed on through WhatsApp groups.
We saw some volunteers wearing neon green T-shirts that are issued by the core team. One of them, with his foot covered in plastic bags, told us, “I have been here since June 20 and have witnessed the whole protest unfold in front of my eyes. When there were any problematic elements, we used to hand them over to the police. How we have managed to keep this protest alive – only we, Dipke, and Sonam sir know.”
On being asked about his injured foot, 38-year-old Rakesh said, “I was standing in front of Dipke’s truck. When the police action began, a girl fell near us. We were trying to protect her but the police didn’t care and beat us anyway. During that, my toenail got uprooted.”
Explaining how he started volunteering, he said, “I came here because of Sonam Wangchuk. He doesn’t lack anything in this world but he sat on a hunger strike. I felt it was my duty to join. I saw the arrangements weren’t proper. All the food here also turns to waste. With such a big crowd, you also have to coordinate. So, I started helping them manage it. When they saw me helping out, they asked me to volunteer. I said that if you need a volunteer, I’m ready to help.”
Explaining further, he said, “Our volunteers have even swept the road outside. I contacted them on our waste management WhatsApp group, which has around 76 members. You must have seen a lot of trash near the entrance. I personally made sure to get it all packed and keep it in a corner.”
“Sir, humare CJI ne hume cockroach bola tha na. Lekin ye cockroach, gandagi ko karne nahi, gandagi saaf karne aaye hain.” (The Chief Justice of India called us cockroaches. But this cockroach doesn’t create filth, it cleans it.)
‘Nobody asked us to do this’
The protest site is barricaded from the front and the stage area is in the back with metal rails guarding it. There are two small gates at both ends.
Near the entrance, a dozen people form a human chain to funnel thousands through the barricades – mostly spontaneous, though one official volunteer stationed there can direct people to form it. Inside, someone hands out water and food. Another moves along the line, fanning people against the heat. Nobody appears to be in charge, yet the line keeps moving.
Among them is 22-year-old Divyansh Gautam, who has been returning every day since Sonam Wangchuk was forcibly removed from Jantar Mantar on July 18.
On being asked if he told anybody that he wanted to volunteer, he said, “Madad aap batake thodi karoge. (You don’t help by announcing it.) It is seva (service) in a way. All of us have been doing this since morning and don’t even need to invite anybody to do it.”
Similarly, a 17-year-old girl named Anshi Pandey from Bihar’s Kishanganj was collecting wet waste from the site and filling it in black bags. She was barefoot, without gloves, with dried food on her shirt and hands.
“Most media people have asked me which side I am on. But I am not from CJP or BJP or Congress. I am here for people who have faced problems and for those who are creating this garbage. The way this is being managed is not correct. This is not how a protest happens. There are rules and volunteers but the leadership has not made many,” she said.
On being asked if anybody asked her to clean, she said, “No, I came in the morning and saw how terribly the garbage had spread. It was spread till here,” she said, pointing to where we stood.
“We then got the washrooms cleaned. But they (organising team) are not being practical. Women need to use the washroom. I saw period blood in there and had to clean with my friends, some of them men. We were crying looking at all this. I am sad for the students but the protest needs to be managed better.”
‘I understand their pain’
Megha, a 20-year-old student pursuing her BTech degree in biotechnology from the Delhi Technical University, was seen picking trash near the stage. She has been coming to the site since June 20 – the day the protest became indefinite.
“I joined because I have taken the NEET and JEE paper. I know the kind of pressure that brings. My friends have given NEET as well – 2024 was our first attempt. Leaks have kept happening since then. My friends still haven’t cleared it and are depressed. They are my best friends but they have stopped talking to anyone. They say they feel guilty and ashamed that our peers have gone ahead and our college has not even started,” she explained.
Remembering her sibling, she said, “My brother is in class 12 right now. He is the same age as the kids who died by suicide. I have faced all this pain and pressure. I come from a lower-middle-class family so I know the pressure students feel when their parents take loans for their children’s education. The education system has been crumbling for a long time. At least there is some hope now – that maybe we can bring about a change.”
As we moved towards the exit, we saw Shabbir Ali, 32, fanning people standing in the exit line to protect them from the heat, and keeping the line in order.
“I run a medical store in Ghaziabad. So, I got medicines for about 500 students – painkillers, bandages, and creams, after what happened on Monday,” he said.
On being asked about how he started fanning people, Ali said, “Acha lag raha hai (It feels nice),” he smiled. “A lot of our brothers have joined here, some are distributing food, some are busy elsewhere. Nobody told me to manage this line. I saw it was becoming difficult to exit so I came here to keep the line straight.”
Outside the main protest site on Janpath Road, we saw an ambulance. Suchitra, 32, owns an ambulance service and is providing medicines and ambulances free of cost.
“If anyone faces an emergency or if there is any casualty then I will be there to help them shift to a hospital. I have been doing this after what happened on Monday. Earlier, I was helping out inside. My husband and I run this company. He is a doctor and was here till 2 pm but had to go see a serious patient.”
While interviewing her, two girls with roses tucked behind their ears asked for gloves. “We need them to pick up the trash,” they told me, pointing to the new trash bags they were carrying.
While there is an official network of volunteers, the protest could not be sustained without the protestors, who themselves continue to keep this movement alive.
This story was originally published by Newslaundry and has been republished with permission