Tear Gas Didn't Make Us Cry

SCREAMS WITHIN

It had been 10 minutes after I reached home that I checked the clock. It was 3:14 am but the rush outside made it feel like the night just started. I put my phone on charge and asked for my aunt’s phone. It didn't have too much power either but it was enough for making a call. I quickly dialed in the number and waited as it rung. I was calling my parents. I desperately needed to hear their voice. After a few rings my mom finally picked up. I could make out that she was listening to the news, they must have been worried sick. "Ammi" I said holding back my tears as I waited for her to answer. As soon as she heard my voice I could hear her cry. I tried very hard to hold back my tears but soon I could hear my father too. It was too much. The concern in their voice broke me. I cried like a baby on the phone telling them everything that I went through. How the police beat me, how they treated us like criminals, how we lost all hope. I was still on the call when my uncle and cousin came home. As soon as they saw me they rushed in and hugged me. Finally after a day that made me feel that I would never feel safe again, I felt secure, to be home felt like I won. I made it. I put mom and dad on the speakerphone. They insisted on coming to Delhi, maybe take me back home for a few weeks but we asked them not to. After all matters seemed like they weren't going to get any better soon.
I spent about 45 minutes talking to them before disconnecting. After that I had some food and was then taken to my room. I took my phone to call Hussein but he had already texted me. He reached home too. He sent me a huge text about what had happened in the washroom and about the events that followed. It said: "After the few officers hit you and you didn't respond, they came banging at the bathroom stalls. When we refused to open, they knocked them down and forcefully dragged us. I managed to get free and ran to you, to try and wake you up but it didn't seem to work. The policemen came back and caught me by the arms and also called someone to take you in too. They took us to the police station and made us sit on the floor like crooks. I don't know if you remember but they kept beating us in there too. Anyway, I couldn't see Mohammed or you anywhere so I was worried. Then they eventually brought you in as well but you still seemed to be knocked out. They hit is with water and I could hear you mutter something but I was too busy screaming in pain to understand. When you fainted again that's when the police decided to show a bit of humanity and send you for medical attention. Thankfully one of the lawyers who somehow came in to see the condition inside knew my father, so he convinced one of the guards to let me go off as well. They took us to the hospital but we were in different vans so I don't know what happened after that, but I saw you on a bed in the hospital while I was leaving, I even saw Mohammed coming in covered in blood. They didn't let me meet any of you so I came home. Hope you're home soon. Take care." That's was possibly the longest message that he had ever written to me. There were a lot more notifications from my social media but I was too tired to give it a look.
I put my phone aside and went to sleep. I woke up screaming several times, after all the day had scarred me and the memories of this day were going to haunt me for a long time. I finally managed to get some good sleep and woke up late in the evening. I came out, still tired but I felt better. I was hungry yet didn't feel like eating anything. I sat on the couch and switched on the TV. As expected, Jamia was all over the news, but what was more surprising was that the protest was still on and was now being backed by several other universities in Delhi and a few outside them as well. The actions of the police were being highly condemned all over the news. They showed videos of the library being damaged and how so many students were detained overnight. There was a silent protest that day where hundreds of people, not just students, not just Muslims, but hundreds of other Indians standing by the gates of JMI standing against NRC and CAB.