ASIF HOSSAIN KHAN (Commonwealth Games Gold Medalist)
It was between twelve-thirty and one, when news suddenly reached us that there was a commotion at the gate. We were not really aware of what was going on but Shoeb Bhai and a few others including me went to check out what was wrong. We went out and saw that there was a fight going on between some police personnel and the guard at the gate. Shoeb Bhai took charge and went to mediate with the officer in charge. Things seemed to reach an impasse but suddenly without any warning whatsoever Shoeb Bhai was hit from behind by the police three or four times. Those of us who were there jumped into action to save him and separate him from the police. There was a lot of pushing and shoving going on but we managed to separate him and run back into the relative safety of our quarters closing the main door behind us in the hope that it would keep the police away. We did not realize how wrong we were. As each of us escaped to where we could, the police climbed the walls and set upon anyone they could find. I had chosen the field as a sanctuary but I was wrong. The police found me and took me into custody. They piled me into their vehicle and took me to the Gulshan Station along with Shoeb Bhai and Jahangir. Little did I know then that the nightmare had only just begun. The police behaved atrociously and swore at us using expletives that I cannot repeat. The accused us of "getting fat on government food" and when they learned that I had won gold in the Commonwealth they said that it had made me "big-headed." They also taunted Shoeb bhai asking him whether he taught us "shooting or fighting." They put five of us in one cell, flipped us over and beat us mercilessly on the soles of our feet, the ankles, thighs, knees and hips. They used a variety of weapons including rulers, tree branches and even hockey sticks. There were seven policemen and three were clothed while the rest were plain-clothed. Inspite of our screams of agony and protest of innocence they paid no heed and continued with the beating for a long time. I don't remember how long exactly because time had lost all meaning by then. I screamed and fell in and out of consciousness, only peripherally aware of what was going on.

By this time the media had gotten heed of what was happening and they had come in droves. That made the police stop beating us but there was more to follow. We were handcuffed and all of us were piled into the back of a microbus and taken to court. The media had already crowded there by that time and from then on the treatment was a lot kinder. The people from the press kept asking me a lot of questions and even though I wanted to answer I was not able to. A lot of people sympathised with us at court and even apologised. There must have been a lot of paperwork involved but by that time I was not aware of anything. All five of us were put in one cell and presently I was given papers to sign for my release on bail. It was officially the end of my physical nightmare but the beginning of the mental one. A few hours of madness may change my life forever.

The days following this episode has for me been a ride through a roller-coaster of emotions.

At times I feel rebellious and feel like tearing everything apart at the frustration of how something like this can happen. But other times I realize that things like this happen in our country all the time and nothing is ever set right. There is a lot of attention devoted to it for a short period of time and then it fades away. This is nothing new. The same thing happened with the journalists a few months ago and with a cricketer as well and now this fate has befell us.

What can we do? Sometimes I think that togetherness in the sporting community is vital. That is the only way this might be resolved.

But in my pessimistic days I think that this is the way it is now and there will be no resolve. I have lost all vestige of hope.

My talent as a shooter has taken me to numerous countries and the one thing I have always seen is that the people always treat the police as friends. In our country it has come to the stage where we are apprehensive about meeting a police officer. The first letter in the abbreviation Police, P, stands for politeness. And from my experience I must say that our police lacks that.

We are but sportsmen who travel to different countries and give our best to highlight our country on the international stage. We have no interest in politics nor are we terrorists. So this treatment defies all logic.

SHOEBUZZAMAN (Junior coach)
The morning's practice was at an end when, suddenly, our range boy Sabu came running in, telling me that there is a scuffle outside the complex with the police. It was around 12.30pm in the afternoon and we were all preparing for the mid-day rest which precedes the evening session.

I walked outside to the front gate with Sabu when I saw a commotion, and a lot of uniformed and plain-clothed policemen. Amongst all those people, I spotted one of our guards Jumman, being battered. That actually made me realise that the situation is quite serious. I took a police officer aside and said to him, "Let's get inside and talk about this."

Even before I could finish my sentence, I was smacked on the back by what I think was a stick. I turned and just ran inside without blinking an eyelid. Jumman, or was it someone else, locked the gate immediately with most of us, from the federation, all inside. I thought that was all.

The police, out of nowhere, started scaling the walls and the locked gate and went after us. I ran inside but they caught up with me and started lashing at me with sticks. I fell down when everyone else, around 30 of my junior students (some of whom are new in Dhaka as well), were running in all directions.

It was unimaginable -- the number of policemen kept on rising inside the camp, range as well as the entire complex. I must mention here that there are numerous guns lying systematically all around the range. As I was being dragged away by the police, my eyes fell on a row of guns just a few metres away from the range. I just hoped that nobody picked up a gun and shot at the police. Thankfully, we kept our discipline even though there were a lot of young men who could have easily fired at the police. All of this took place in only four to five minutes.

So as I was being dragged away, I saw others still being mauled to the ground. I was taken to a van and was kicked at, which I really found very humiliating.

After being taken to the Gulshan police station, we were asked our names. I was almost feeling a certain numbness because this was actually the first time that I have ever been to a police station in my life.

As one of them wrote my address, he said, "Ah, you're from Kushtia, Pabna (Asif), Bogra (Shipu) -- the land of criminals."

"The gold has made you too big. We will get the gold out of you," said someone to Asif.

The words were starting to blur into my ears. They forced us to lie all of us on the ground. And then one by one, they took our shoes off and battered our soles. I have never felt such pain; my body was just giving up its weight. I heard them say, "This is the coach of the criminals."

I think they broke around 6-7 sticks and after that I saw a few hockey-sticks being brought in.

We were taken into the remand room as they were saying to each other and writhing 5-10 minutes I was half-awake, half-senseless. I was fading away everytime my back was smacked with a hockey-stick. The hardest part was just listening to them.

"You will never forget us and this beating," someone told me. Indeed, I shall never stop thinking about this indiscriminate pounding. My head completely stopped working by then. I saw Asif's neck bleeding and checked to see if I was losing blood too. I don't even remember when I got hit on my forehead but I found a lot of blood as I raised my heavy hand. By then I was sure that I have a broken hand, a smacked forehead and unbelievable pain on my sole and back. The damage was done by that time.

My clothes were torn into pieces. They tied it up near the shoulder and took me outside, and to the CMM Court.

I couldn't open my eyes when I was taken there and don't remember seeing any photojounalists or any other people.

In my life, I have never seen what a police station looks like. I felt as if this the lowest I could go. The humiliation was unbearable.

ALI HOSSAIN SHIPU (shooter)
We were just briefed by Shoeb bhai when the range boy Sabu ran in. Shoeb bhai followed him out and we were also going after but then within a minute, I saw Shoeb bhai running back at us.

We saw several policemen following him and by the time we could escape, the sticks were all over us. Everybody was trying to run away, but we couldn't go anywhere. I saw one team running towards the women's camp and banging at the doors, trying to break it apart. It was absolutely humiliating, I thought.

By then we were being dragged to the van and I think the beating stopped at that point, at least on me!

We were taken to the police station in Gulshan. I have seen this place but trust me, this is the first time that I have ever interacted with the police. I have never even rode on a police van.

We landed in the station and our identity was asked. They asked, "Are you a shooter or a criminal?"

One of the inspectors inside asked the one that brought us in, "Why are they here?"

"They laid hands on us."

"Is that even a reason? You should have just shot them in a crossfire."

A fat man from the adjacent residential quarters screamed out, "I have hockey-sticks. Give them a few from me."

I was ashamed of myself, thinking that I couldn't get any lower.

We were all forced to lie down on the floor. As I had just finished training, I was wearing shoes. The force of their sticks on my foot made the shoe tear up.

I was going senseless with their pitiless beating of my arms and legs. My right hand started to give away by the first ten minutes.

Soon, I found myself inside the Central Jail, sharing the cell with five other people.

I think the shame of this was just awful. Several things were said to us just because we were shooters. I can never forget the fact that I spent 45 hours in jail.

JAHANGIR (Cook's Helper)
I was returning after shopping for groceries from Gulshan market and had no idea of what was going on. I had just gotten to the gate and I knew nothing of what had happened. Suddenly a few policemen grabbed me by the neck. Someone shouted "Catch him and beat him up." The next thing I knew was that I was subject to a volley of blows to every part of my body. Before I had time to say anything I was packed off into a vehicle and taken to the Gulshan station. There I was put in the same room as Asif and Shoeb bhai and beaten. I protested my innocence but it fell of deaf ears. They beat me all over and although I screamed and cried and swore on my mothers name it did not make them stop. We were then taken to court and following that sent to jail.

JANNATUL FERDOUS (Ansar)
I was on cooking duty for the week and I was getting ready to prepare lunch when duty called. Under government regulations we are supposed to act whenever there is a commotion. So I grabbed my dress and raced downstairs upon hearing of the trouble. It was pandemonium from then on. There were scuffles with police officers and I fell in between. I was packed off with the others to the station. All the way I kept telling them that I was from Ansar but they laughed it off.

At the police station they put me in the same room with the others and stripped me before hitting me at all parts of my body with a variety of objects. It was beating like we had never seen before. This was the kind of story that I had heard from my previous generation about how the Pakistan army used to beat the Bangladeshi people. A police officer passed hockey sticks and asked the men to "beat them for me twice." They threatened us many things including saying that they could put us in 'crossfire.' It was like hell.