Nafisa Hossain Marwa was 17 years old, a Higher Secondary Certificate (HSC) examinee studying at Sahazuddin Sarkar Higher Secondary School in Tongi. As the quota protest spread in educational institutions across the country, Nafisa and her friends created a Messenger group to discuss plans and took to the streets daily. On the streets, she was a leader.

Her father ran a small tea stall. Their family lived in a tiny one-room rented house in Tongi. Her father would leave early in the morning and return home around 10 or 11 at night. Before he came home, Nafisa would already be back, so he never knew she was out protesting. Her mother had been working in Kuwait for the past two years. Her only younger sister lived with their grandmother in Savar.

One day, her father heard from a neighbour that Nafisa had been attending protests. That night, he scolded her. Then, on July 28, 2024, Nafisa told him she was going to her uncle’s house in Savar. Since the protests had already caused HSC exams to be postponed, her father did not object. He figured that her uncles would likely prevent her from joining the movement.

But even there, she stayed in touch with her friends over the phone and went out to protest daily. Her uncles forbade her, but she refused to listen.

On August 3, in the afternoon, she sent her father a selfie from a protest. Seeing the photo, he was furious and called her immediately. He scolded her:

“I sent you there to be safe, and you’re out on the streets?”

On the morning of August 5, she got ready to go out again. This time, her younger uncle tried to stop her, but she was determined. She managed to slip out unnoticed and joined the long march alongside Jahangirnagar University students in Savar.

At 2:30pm, Nafisa called her father and said, “Abbu, Hasina has fled.”

Her father, irritated, retorted, “What does it matter to your father if Hasina has fled? Your father is just a tea seller. If something happens to you, who will take care of you?”

Nafisa reassured him, “Nothing else will happen, Abbu. Hasina has fled. I’m with the senior brothers and sisters from the university.”

Her father ordered her to return home immediately.

But Nafisa replied, “There’s no time to turn back now, Abbu. Whatever Allah has in store for me will happen.”

Just minutes after her call with her father, as their group moved past the Savar Model Mosque area, the police, along with Chhatra League and Jubo League activists, launched a coordinated attack. Police fired shots to disperse the protesters. Nafisa, who was at the front of the march, was struck by a bullet. She was rushed to LabZone Hospital.

Meanwhile, her father called to check if she was on her way home. But no one answered. Moments later, his phone rang. When he picked up, a young male voice on the other end asked, “Are you related to her?”

“I’m her father.”

“Come to LabZone Hospital immediately. She has been shot.”

From there, she was taken to Enam Medical College Hospital. On the way, due to excessive blood loss, Nafisa succumbed to her injuries.

She was laid to rest in her ancestral home in Ershadnagar.

NAIMA SULTANA

Naima Sultana was 16 years old, a tenth-grade science student at Milestone School. She had a passion for art, spending her free time sketching. During the early days of the quota reform movement, she drew protest posters and slogans at home.

On July 18, 2024, the day before her death, several students and civilians were killed by police gunfire in Uttara. That night, as she was designing posters and chatting with her mother, she suddenly told her mother that if she got killed, she should tell people that her daughter became a martyr. Her mother scolded her.

The family lived in a rented apartment in Sector 7, Uttara. Naima lived with her mother and two siblings, while her father, a rural physician, frequently travelled between their village and the city. On July 19, 2024, around 4:00pm, violence erupted near Uttara Adhunik Medical College as police and Awami League affiliates clashed with protesters. Armed members of the student and youth wings of the then ruling party, alongside some police officers, stormed nearby alleys and opened fire indiscriminately.

Naima was in her room painting protest posters with slogans like “Boycott Chhatra League” and “We Demand Quota Reform.” Drawn by the commotion outside, she stepped out of the room and went to their balcony, and turned on her phone’s camera to capture the events below. The police fired at her almost immediately. A bullet pierced her head, entering from one side and exiting through the other. She collapsed instantly, her brain scattering across the floor. She could utter only one word: “Ma...”

Hearing the sound, her mother and elder sister rushed to the balcony and found her lying in a pool of blood. Her mother fainted at the sight, while her sister’s screams alerted neighbours and protesters below. She had died before she was taken to the hospital.

She was buried in her ancestral home in Amuakanda village, Matlab Uttar, Chandpur, on July 20.

“She was excellent in her studies and wanted to become a doctor. When her mother forbade her from joining the protests, she protested in her own way—by making artwork and sharing them on Facebook. When the internet was shut down, she called her friends and teachers to learn where the protests would be the next day so she could plan to join them,” said her father.

SUMAIYA AKTER

Sumaiya Akter was 20 years old. She lived with her mother in Chittagong Road, along with her two-and-a-half-month-old baby. The protest site was right next to their home. They could see everything from their house.

It was Saturday, July 20, 2024. The afternoon was tense. Her mother was preparing for the Asr prayer. Sumaiya had just put her baby to sleep. Suddenly, shouts, screams, and the sound of gunfire erupted from the protest site. Sumaiya turned to her mother and said, “Everyone’s watching. I’ll go and take a look too.”

She stepped onto the balcony to see what was happening outside. Moments later, her mother heard a faint scream.

“I looked around in all directions. When I looked forward, I saw my daughter collapsing, tilting forward. I wondered if it was just fear. I rushed to hold her. Then I saw—just like water spills when you press a tap—blood was pouring from her head. I screamed for help.”

A bullet had pierced through the balcony railing and struck Sumaiya’s head. Family members and neighbours carried her downstairs, but they couldn’t find a vehicle to take her to the hospital. No one was willing to drive through the protest site to get to a medical facility.

Eventually, they managed to take her to a hospital in an auto-rickshaw, but she died on her way.

When the family attempted to take her body to their ancestral home in Mehendiganj, Barishal, they faced obstacles along the way. Ultimately, she was buried in Siddhirganj Pul area.

SHAHINUR BEGUM

Shahinur Begum, 57, went out for a walk towards Kajla Bridge after offering Fajr prayers on July 22, 2024. She was accompanied by two or three other women.

Around 8:30am, she was shot in Kajla. She lay on the road for nearly an hour before her daughters came to know about it. She was first taken to a hospital in Shanir Akhra, and then to Dhaka Medical College Hospital. The person who rescued her transported her on a van. She needed an immediate surgery, and her family was called from her phone.

“When I arrived, my mother was lying in the hospital. The man who brought her in must have been sent by Allah like an angel. Otherwise, she would have remained on the street for an hour with no one to help. I heard she was writhing in pain the entire time.”

Doctors insisted on immediate surgery and an ICU admission, but the daughter struggled to secure an ICU bed. “I can’t even describe it. Just thinking about it makes my chest feel like it’s going to explode. I begged everyone for an ICU bed for my mother, but nothing worked. We only got an ICU bed three days later. She remained in Dhaka Medical College Hospital for one month and nine days. But she never spoke a single word. Only her arms and legs moved.”

The daughter broke down in tears but then continued, “If we had gotten an ICU bed on the first day, maybe we could have heard her last words. My mother always prepared iftar for us during Ramadan. This year, she’s gone.”

Shahinur Begum lived in Shanir Akhra with her five children. Her husband was paralysed and bedridden. She ran a fish business to support her family. After her death, the family lost everything and was forced to leave the city, returning to their village in Cumilla.

RIYA GOPE

Riya Gope was just six and a half years old. She had only recently started school and would have turned seven this year. The family lived in a top-floor apartment of a five-storey building in Nayamati, Narayanganj Sadar.

On July 19, 2024, Bangladesh was in turmoil. Protests erupted nationwide over the killing of students. That morning, protesters clashed repeatedly with police near the DIT area in front of Riya’s home. The family watched the events unfold from their rooftop. By noon, they came downstairs for lunch. After eating, Riya went back up to play with other children.

Around midday, another wave of clashes broke out, with police using helicopters to fire tear gas and live rounds at protesters. Alarmed by the noise, Riya’s father ran upstairs to bring her back inside. As he reached the rooftop, he saw the helicopter firing at the crowd below. As soon as he lifted Riya in his arms to take her inside, a bullet struck her head. She went limp instantly.

“There are no words to describe that moment. I don’t want to relive it. She was our only daughter,” her father, Dipak Kumar Gope, said.

Riya succumbed to her injuries on July 24, after battling for life for five days at Dhaka Medical College Hospital.

Her father, Dipak, worked as a manager at a local construction materials store. Her mother was a homemaker. After five years of marriage, Riya had been born, bringing immense joy to the family. “She was always cheerful and mischievous, lighting up our home. Everyone adored her,” her father said.