Ghanta Ghar―Where Lucknow's women protest in solidarity

At 8.30 pm, the women are still pouring in to the Hussainabad Clock Tower. The men are also there, but they stay off the stoned premises on which the Tower stands. “We are here in solidarity. And to make sure that the women stay safe,” says one.

This is the site chosen by Lucknow’s women to protest the Citizenship Amendment Act. It is one of Lucknow’s most pictured tourist attractions and the Tower is referred in some history books as the inspiration for London’s Big Ben. Next to the Tower is a step-well pond, into which the reflection of the Tower falls. Standing at the base of the Tower, one can see the well-lit, red bricked Hussainabad Picture Gallery across the pond. Some distance away is the Shatkhanda―a five-storied structure that was to be Lucknow's Leaning Tower of Pisa till its construction was abandoned midway. On most days, the site is a thing of beauty. However, since Friday when the women started their sit in, the Clock Tower has been dimly lit, and only intermittently.

Near the Hussainabad Clock Tower or Ghanta Ghar where the women have gathered | Puja Awasthi

On Sunday night, when I reach the site, a plastic rope stretched across the roadside approach to the Tower is hung with messages printed on plain white papers. Each one of those says: “Only media and ladies are allowed. #LucknowProtest #Ghanta Ghar”.

At the site, it is understood that no names will be asked or given. After Saturday night when the police took away the blankets that the protesters had with them, no one wants to be identified. The state’s police had been brutal in the protests that happened in Lucknow on December 19. The women at the Clock Tower are wizened by that and determined that the men will be kept away so that the police can be restrained.

Sayyad Ammara is a volunteer at the site. She is the only one who is willing to give her name. “All of us who have volunteered do not belong to any organisation,” she says. Ammara is armed with a stick she uses to strike the ground with and shoo away the men. “If we are to be evicted from our country, its better to spend our nights under an open sky. When the women come out of their homes, Begum Hazrat Mahal and the Rani of Jhansi are born,” Ammara says.

Standing under a flex banner on which the Preamble to the Constitution is written, a young teacher says that this is her first day at the protest. “My mother was here earlier but she fell sick because of the cold,” she says. This has been a bitter, rain-lashed winter with brutal winds. But the women are undeterred.

One tells me, “We take some time off to go home and cook. The toilets were locked yesterday. Some have been opened today. We will not accept blankets from anyone now. We will manage with whatever we can get from home.” Around her sit two young boys―her children. “Where do we go if our mother is here,” they ask. They intend to stick around for as long as they can fight off sleep. They have school on Monday.

Around 9.20 pm, the lights are shut off. Street lights are still on though. A buzz goes around that the police are coming to confiscate the protesters' food. Quickly human chains are formed around the Tower. Two girls go around announcing into a portable speaker that glows with red and blue lights, that all men must back off. Candles are lit. Chants of ‘Inquilab Zindabad’ go up.

Sayyad Ammara at the protest site | Puja Awasthi

On the periphery of the site, three women constables sit on a stone bench. They say that all women constables from all police stations have been called in. There are about 50 of them at the site now. The men are four times that number. There are two buses of the Provincial Armed Constabulary around the site. A fire engine stands opposite it.

One of the women constables says, “I have an eight-year-old son who is all alone at home. Yet we are here to protect these women. If anything goes wrong, we will be blamed.” Social media has been cruel in its mockery of Lucknow’s police, labeling them ‘kambal chor’ (blanket thieves).

A male constable joins us. “Protests are fine. But here no one really seems to know what they are protesting against. Who is throwing them out of their homes? There is a magistrate level official present at the site, why not direct your questions to him? Is it not absurd to expect the Prime Minister to come and address every single protester,” he asks.

Around the site, small kiosks have shut down as the owners fear violence. One tea stall owner says he has not earned a single rupee in the last three days. “Does anyone think about us?” he asks.

On Tuesday, Home Minister Amit Shah is to address a rally in Lucknow. There are fears that the protesters will be dealt with severely before that and the site cleared.

I ask one young protester if she is scared. “Jo hoga dekha jayega. Ek hi baar toh marna hai (Whatever happens we shall see. One dies only once),” she tells me. In her hand is a burning candle. Over her head scarf is a band that says ‘Save the Constitution’.

It is 10.30 pm. As I leave the site, the protesters and the police are left to brave the chilly winds and the bigger frost that has set in their minds.