Suddenly, a ripple of movement swept through the huge police gathering. There were rustles as the policemen slipped into their jackets and snapped on helmets. They were all alert, looking towards Russel Square.

Then the first line of processionists was visible, slowly moving towards Sangsad Bhaban. Placards and sticks dancing in the air. From the first floor, it looked a huge procession.

About 15 feet from the barbed wire barricade, the policemen looked nervous. They fidgeted with their batons and tear gas guns, but very quiet. They were standing in neat rows, as if ready to parade on Independence Day.

It took about five minutes for the processionists to reach the barricade. They were shouting and cursing. A few grabbed the steel frame of the barricade and tried to dislodge it without success. A thin man jumped on the barricade and was chanting slogans.

There were a lot of women activists, carrying sticks and placards. They looked furious and tried to put up their best show; after all they knew the photographers were clicking away right in front of them. They were pushing hard against the barbed wire. A man in white Panjabi, seemingly a ward-level leader, outstretched his hands, trying to dissuade the women from turning too violent.

The policeman beside me was still blaring on his loudspeaker, asking the demonstrators to back off. He was reading from a handwritten paper from behind his helmet.

Suddenly, a woman threw a stick into the sea of police; a half brick hit the fibre glass shield; two more sticks flew in and four more pebbles. Now the policemen also hurled back the stones. More missiles started flying in the air in both directions. A policewoman was hit on her helmet; she looked baffled.

And then the policemen broke the barricade and charged, swinging their batons wildly. In a span of few seconds, the pickets vanished towards Road 27.

The place was now teeming with policemen. One of them was dragging a sombre looking bearded man towards the police van. The man looked surprised and baffled, he did not look like a picketing kind.

It was now a sub-normal situation. About two hundred yards from the barricade, a few Awami League leaders and workers including former home minister Mohammad Nasim were standing together, aimlessly. And then it happened in a jiffy. At least 15 policemen encircled them and started beating them mercilessly.

Hit on the waist, Nasim fell on the street and others followed him. The policemen were whacking away at the fallen bodies. Some of them tried to get on their feet, but they were quickly mowed down. The clubs rose and fell with a dull sound of connection with human bodies. The clubs got shredded at the top by the impact. The policemen's nostrils flared, they looked focused on their job. The killer instinct playing through their whole bodies.

There was no screaming now, only the men and women lay motionless, most of them unconscious. Even the whacking did not stir them at all.

Suddenly, the policemen turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened there.

It all took three minutes to complete the neat job.