With Ambedkar portraits and cries of Jai Bhim, this protest’s rhetoric and symbolism seemed to foreground social justice amid the widespread waning of political commitment to the cause.
Published : Aug 10, 2026 08:00 IST – 10 MINS READ
A portrait of Dr B.R. Ambedkar at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi on July 20. The protests brought together marginalised-caste Gen Z voices on a scale hitherto unimaginable. | Photo Credit: Karma Bhutia/PTI
The Cockroach Janta Party’s (CJP) protest and the rise of Gen Z mark an important political moment in Indian resistance culture. It is too early to term it as a movement or a revolution since it came about more as a spurt of anguish from young people about the ongoing irregularities in the examination system. The CJP is yet to define and clarify the future road map for itself, which will depend on the issues it takes up and the support, alliances, and networks that it is able to garner for itself. What has been most remarkable in the entire agitation, however, is how the CJP managed to weave together diverse protesting voices who, together, created the possibility of young people from various backgrounds standing together for a single cause.
One significant aspect of the protest was the pervasive use of anti-caste symbolism, particularly with Abhijeet Dipke emerging as the face of the protest. Among the abiding takeaways were images of Babasaheb Ambedkar, Jai Bhim flags, chants of Jai Bhim, and wide support from the Ambedkarite Gen Z. This came through particularly strongly when Dipke exited Delhi airport with a book on Ambedkar in his hand. His visit to Pune University on June 11, soon after launching the protest at Jantar Mantar, Delhi, during which his call got a huge response, was also for a protest with Ambedkar symbolism, music, and slogans. People on social media too responded overwhelmingly in support of the CJP protest, with prominent anti-caste songs like “Tufanatle Dive Amhi” (Hiral Kamble) and “Jai Bhim Kadak” (Vipin Tatad) used extensively in Instagram reels. Also contextualising the protest were rap songs and songs of resistance, which found resonance on social media.
It is worth examining this Gen Z protest to see who stood in the front lines and who were the student/youth groups that mobilised support across different States. One can attribute the success of the protest to the coming together of diverse youth voices from diverse platforms, such as Ambedkarite, LGBTQIA+, left wing, and left-liberal.
What seemed from street visuals and social media to be a single Gen Z voice was, thus, in fact, a chorus of voices that came together in glorious unity. The solidarity that was exhibited, however, does not necessarily dissolve all caste barriers per se, and it would be a misreading to consider Gen Z as a singular monolith. The everyday caste reality of the country did not get sutured into the process of protest. This comes through especially when one saw how, soon after the protest, social media conversations switched to an anti-reservation theme. There were new Instagram pages like “Reservation Hatao Anadolan” with over five million followers immediately.
The success of the protest, thus, does not necessarily reflect a dissolution of caste among Gen Z; bridging caste identities will probably require much more unlearning on the part of Gen Z. What one did see, however, was the influence of social media, which created a new and universal vocabulary of words, images, and gestures, but this does not essentially translate to a caste-free society at this point.
Ambedkar in the front lines
The students and young people standing in the front lines of the protest across cities carried Ambedkar’s flag. They chanted Jai Bhim and Inquilab Zindabad. Among the various protest songs and chants, one thing stood out: the symbolism of the Constitution and the image of Ambedkar.
Moreover, the Dalit leader and founder-president of the Aazad Samaj Party (Kanshi Ram), Chandrashekhar Azad Ravan, joined the protest and urged youth from Delhi and nearby regions to join in. Azad also went on a visually moving solitary protest at Parliament, where he sat under the statue of Ambedkar and slept there as well even as the rain lashed.
The July 20 march became a visible success because representatives of Gen Z poured in from across India to join the protest. For the marginalised castes among Gen Z, it was a moment of extended support, particularly because within the education infrastructure it is the members of these castes who continue to be the most deprived of all. At Jantar Mantar, Dipke along with other supporters constantly used the image of Ambedkar and the Jai Bhim slogan, authenticating the voice of marginalised students.
In the front lines of the protests, students chanted Jai Bhim and Inquilab Zindabad. Here, celebrations after Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan’s resignation, at Jantar Mantar, New Delhi, on July 25, 2026. | Photo Credit: Shashi Shekhar Kashyap
There were several reels and videos on social media of bike-borne youths carrying the distinctive blue Jai Bhim flag set to the music of powerful anti-caste songs. Such reels gave young people from marginalised caste backgrounds the encouragement and strength to come forward and join. The role of anti-caste Instagram influencers was also key in generating this sense of solidarity. Influencers such as Lakshya Lakey (@lakshaya_speaks), Mukesh Mohan (@mukeshmohannn), The Dalit Voice (@ambedariteind), Anurag Minus Verma (@Anuragminusverma), and many others raised strong voices of support, and the protest marked the coming together of the marginalised-caste Gen Z voice on a scale hitherto unimaginable.
When the CJP was initially formed in May, eyebrows were raised and several people asked whether the movement would merely represent the elite, urban-educated segment. Dipke responded to the critics, saying: “I am a Dalit myself. Hope that answers all your questions.” This created a huge buzz online, especially among Ambedkarite youths. A similar buzz was created when Anitha’s brother reached the protest site. S. Anitha from Tamil Nadu was a Dalit student who died by suicide after she failed the National Eligibility cum Entrance Test (NEET), and is seen as the first victim of the many failures of the system.
What the Cockroach protest did was to create awareness among the youth to stand up not just for their rights but for a collective cause that concerned students. For marginalised-caste Gen Z, this was the moment to express solidarity, particularly because they continue to depend on a fair educational system in the absence of other forms of cultural capital to support their aspirations. This Gen Z-led protest was able to bring together Ambedkarites, farmers, minorities, feminists, and others, all of whom have been separately raising their voices against state policies for more than a decade now. The momentum created by the protest fused their feelings against state apathy.
The political satire employed during the protest was itself able to make new connections between the diverse caste and class groups on the street. It uniquely blended music trends, memes, and catchy phrases to create a rebellious vocabulary. For instance, the use of Michael Jackson’s song “They don’t really care about us” to showcase police brutality created the “us” that is a vital source of unity.
The use of the universal “clock it” gesture (the tapping of fingers) was inspired by the Black/Brown queer community of New York in the 1960s. The action signals truth or an unmasking. It is also the language of resistance.
Protest reels and memes from the widespread street protests in Hong Kong in 2019–20 to Nepal’s recent Gen Z uprising, which were in circulation on social media, inspired ideas during the CJP protest as well. For instance, the protesters used gaming patterns to escape from the lathi-wielding police, picked up and threw back tear gas canisters, and stood defiantly in front of water cannons. Interestingly, the very use of the term “Gen Z” created the first layer of unity and solidarity among the young people who gathered.
What is worth noting is that many of the young people who came out onto the streets in mass mobilisation across India were from less privileged backgrounds, who had neither economic nor caste nor religious privilege to work their way out of the corrupt education system. This added to their emotional investment in the protest. The channelisation of such youth across the spectrum became possible because of the digital mediatisation that prioritised, pushed, and reiterated their cause. Thus, youth from marginalised castes became a visible axis as major stakeholders in the protest.
Aazad Samaj Party (Kanshi Ram) leader Chandrashekhar Azad Ravan sat on a dharna under the B.R. Ambedkar statue on the Parliament premises on July 15. | Photo Credit: @BhimArmyChief/X via PTI
Instagram, as the dominant online site of protest, was less interrupted by the BJP’s IT cell voices. Its algorithms quickly connected users to the larger theme so that even if a student visited the CJP page just out of curiosity because of peer group interest, the algorithmic cycles that followed quickly introduced reels that criticised the education system, the corruption in the examination system, the government’s indifference, and so on.
The rapid digital learning through 30-second reels might not have given Gen Z a total understanding, but it led to an awakening and understanding about the wider sense of apathy and discontentment that students could immediately connect with.
From caste margins
Although Dipke made no direct intervention into the social justice question during the protest, the question of social justice itself was never absent from the protest. It drew strength from the fact that Dipke never shrugged off his Dalit identity but instead claimed it from the outset, right from when he exited the airport after arriving from the US.
When he was attacked at Jantar Mantar by a woman who threw ink on him, Dipke immediately turned it around by saying that he was happy to be smeared in blue ink as blue was the color of his blood, the colour of Ambedkarite politics. Through his constant presence and statements, Dipke was able to break the narrative that India’s “Gen Z” is only a section of Western-educated, elite youth. This helped bring an organic connect to the movement.
If many Dalit and marginalised-caste students joined the protest, so did minority groups like Muslims and LGBTQIA+ communities, who saw in the CJP protest a ray of hope against what is widely censured as the waning political commitment to social justice. The CJP understood this instinctively: its manifesto listed all the irregularities and issues under the BJP government, such as unemployment, the compliant media, and the sinecures to retired Chief Justices. The immediate trigger was irregularities in NEET and the education system, but the protest painted a larger picture of discontentment in the country.
The Gen Z protest might appear to be a monolithic student protest, but it has succeeded in directing the mainstream gaze to the deep-seated structures of inequality among India’s youth. The CJP took definite shape after Dipke’s arrival in India; it became heard when the students spoke constantly of accountability, and when Dipke and his colleagues held the Constitution in their hands, bringing hope to countless young people that constitutionality continues to be the placeholder in Indian democracy.
The larger outcome of the protest will be about how the CJP takes it on from here. It will be important to see how it brings together questions of social justice and students’ concerns across universities and campuses.
Social media and alternative media mediation is particularly important in the absence of mainstream media interest. Most importantly, the protest established that the youth matter and that they can be heard, regardless of their social location.
Ideally, the CJP should address concerns about caste-driven structural inequality that persists in the country’s education system. The protest’s rhetoric has set the tone for social change, and it can be meaningfully directed towards inclusion of the historically marginalised, for whom access to educational spaces remains a huge victory.
The recent objections to the UGC anti-discrimination Bill by savarna caste students showed that the youth are not a homogenous category in educational institutions and that the marginalised castes continue to face humiliation without any access to redress. The protest generates hope for a more inclusive educational structure, something that has been a fundamental demand in India for too long now.
K. Kalyani is a sociologist and assistant professor at Azim Premji University, Bengaluru. The opinions expressed are that of the author and are not necessarily endorsed by or reflect the views of Azim Premji University.
Leave a comment