It all began with conversations. Every morning before work, the three of us found ourselves talking about student protests. Those conversations stayed with us long after the day had begun. We kept thinking about the students who had gathered to raise their voices, about how many of them felt unheard, and about the treatment they were receiving while asking for something as simple as being listened to. Like many others, we wanted to stand beside them.
The Journey to Organise Locally
There were moments when we genuinely thought about travelling to Delhi and joining the protest ourselves. But Delhi was nearly 700 kilometres away from Ayodhya, and as three young women, the decision was not as simple as booking a train ticket. Safety was a real concern. Our families were worried, and honestly, we were too. Every day, we came across photographs and videos of women protesters being pushed and handled in ways that no one should ever experience. That feeling was perhaps the hardest part. We weren't afraid because we didn't care. We were afraid because we cared deeply, but we weren't sure if we could keep ourselves safe.
We are students ourselves, with all three of us working in education while pursuing higher studies. We believed that every student deserved to be heard and made to feel valued. That belief made it even harder to simply watch everything unfold from a distance. Then one day, we came across a call for district-level solidarity protests, encouraging people to organise peaceful demonstrations in their own districts. For the first time, we felt that maybe we could do something.
Navigating Administrative Processes
From the beginning, we knew that whatever we did would remain completely peaceful and entirely within the constitutional framework. We started researching the permission process, reading guidelines, drafting applications, and even using AI tools to understand which authorities needed to be approached. Every step was new to us, but we kept learning as we went. Unfortunately, our first request was rejected. We tried again through different channels, contacted more officials, and explored every possible option we could think of.
The evening before the protest, we finally found ourselves speaking with officials from the City Magistrate's office. We submitted our application again, explained the purpose of the protest, and shared the proposed route from Hatti Mata Mandir to Gandhi Udyan. The next morning, we kept calling the office, hoping for an update. After an hour, we were informed that permission had been denied due to security concerns. Instead of giving up, we requested a meeting with the City Magistrate.
None of us had ever visited a court complex or a government office like that before. As three young women walking through the corridors, we felt every eye turning towards us. Growing up, we had often heard that police stations and courts were not places where women belong. Standing there, surrounded almost entirely by men, we realised how deeply those messages had shaped our own fears. But strangely, that feeling didn't make us turn back. Instead, it reminded us why we had come.
Persistence and Permission
We approached the District Magistrate's office next, and after navigating various closed doors and speaking with officials, we finally received a call from the City Magistrate's office. We explained who we were, why we wanted to organise the protest, and what it meant to us. We assured him that the gathering would remain entirely peaceful and submitted a written undertaking accepting responsibility ourselves. A few moments later, we received the news we had almost stopped expecting. Permission was granted.
When we returned, we gathered our friends and threw ourselves into the final preparations. Posters and banners were ready, using recycled materials wherever possible to reflect the values we believed in. We organised the protest on 25 July, just a few weeks before Independence Day. For the first time, we weren't thinking about whether we were capable. We already knew we were. That is how we will remember that day. Not simply as the day we organised our first protest, but as the day three Gen Z women learnt what courage feels like.