Going for a protest

'Caged birds still remember how to fly '. I read somewhere the other day. Well that's exactly the problem. You do not lose your ability due to the place you're trapped in - makes you wonder if you're trapped in at all.

And when does that misunderstanding change? When the bird actually tries to fly past the limits of the cage - that's when the cold steel stops you and realisation hits. And how do I know this? Because it hit me once. When I was going for my first ever serious protest.

The act of protesting itself wasn't new to me. But there was always a line that protected me. Deciding to go for a protest where armed police force would not hesitate to attack you, if the goons didn't reach you first - is a different thing. It didn't bother me initially though, the thought that I was going for a protest. How would it be unsafe? I was going with my friends, there was going to be a large crowd of known people and it was a place I visited quite often. What could ever go wrong, right? Wrong, everything could go wrong. One could get caught up in the police's tear gas attack, could get cornered and attacked, could be injured and what not.

All these possibilities made me do a double take on my decision. I did have that leg pain from yesterday and I'm not used to cold weather, not to mention my horrible allergy that had been triggered the day before. More importantly, I didn't own a pepper spray. It was then that I fully processed what was going through my mind. I was planning of pulling out. Because I was scared. And because I was trapped.

I was trapped in the cosy bubble of privilege. Did the cause directly affect me? I mean minority violence at present was targeted to a different community and my college wasn't attacked for protesting. I was unaffected on an immediate, physical level. So I didn't have much cause to protest, did I? Thankfully, somebody's Instagram post met my eyes at the right time. It was questioning the broader student body's reasons for participating. And that made me realise that I wanted to protest even if it didn't affect me one bit. I wanted to fight because it was the right thing to do. And I was not going to be known as somebody who chose to be cocooned in my privileged niche.

The next day I set out to protest, still nervous. In my head I made a mental map on the routes to take to run to the metro station and my google bookmarks had a page on tear gas protection. I knew I couldn't be prepared enough. The first sight that greeted me was the long line of police officers. Walking up to them, I realised I was testing the limits of my cage. I slowly joined the group and started to march with them. A little hesitant at first, I started repeating the slogans. As the march went on, I saw my companions' energy rubbing off on me. The unity that I shared with people I had never known before and will possibly never know in my life was one of the strangest and powerful emotion I felt. By the time I started proudly yelling the slogans without bothering to cover my face or look for cameras, I realised I had broken out of my air-conditioned cage.

That night I slept with sore limbs and free dreams.