The price of a scope: Muheimin’s fight against shotguns

Muhaimin Pulok, hit by a bullet during the chaos of the protest, fights to protect others from the same deadly harm

The sound of gunshots can be heard in the video of Muhaimin Pulok. The crowd disperses, shouts echo, and then everything changes. As Pulok was filming the July riots unfolding on the streets of Dhaka, a single bullet from a police rifle tore through the air and damaged his left eye. That moment of pain and darkness has since turned into a deeply personal campaign to banish small arms from the arsenal of crowd control.

Pulok never thought he would be thrust into this role. An artist and curator with a keen eye for detail, he collected and studied various works of art. But from that July day, his focus shifted from aesthetics to activism. His Facebook page, Stop using guns for crowd controlbecame a platform for his call to ban indiscriminate weapons that now threaten the vision he once took for granted.

It was during one of the stormiest weeks of 2024. Pulok didn’t expect his day to turn out the way it did that chaotic afternoon. He was at the gates of the Mirpur DOHS, amid rising tensions between protesters and the authorities, watching the crowd from the sidelines.

He only helped the victims with water and toothpaste (which is used to reduce the effect of tear gas). Suddenly it happened. “The moment and the sound of the shot were even recorded on my phone. It was already too late – my left eye was hit, it bled, my vision blurred, and I rushed home,” recalls Muhaimin.

Doctors at the National Institute of Ophthalmology and Hospital initially told Muhaimin that he might lose his eye. They suggested he wait a few months and then replace it with a prosthetic, a glass eye that would serve as a cold reminder of what he had lost.

At first, Pulok and his family accepted this path, not knowing if there was another way. But in the back of his mind, the possibility of losing sight in one eye forever gnawed at him, chipping away at his spirit.

“It felt like the ground had disappeared from under me,” recalls Pulok. “The news was devastating, although the doctors said it was very caring,” adds his father. “Only a mother can understand how terrible it was to hear about the irreversible loss of her only son, who has yet to get married and start a family of his own,” says the mother, her voice heavy with emotion.

After going to a private hospital, the doctors suggested surgery first. Thus began a series of medical interventions.

Pulock’s injury was neither isolated nor the result of some unfortunate coincidence. His left eye was damaged by the same tools—shotguns—that were used to control the protests, to appease them.

As he stood recording that day, he didn’t realize how far it would go: a direct hit by a bullet tore through the cornea of ​​his left eye and lodged in it, a cascade of medical interventions and surgeries unfolding over the next few months, but leaving him with only a sliver of vision. Today, he can vaguely distinguish light and shadow movements, but full vision is a memory.

My injury is not an accident; this is a consequence of weapons having no place in crowd control.

Muhaimin Pulok

A voice against lethal weapons in the fight against the mob

Now, three months and several surgeries later, Pulock’s struggle goes beyond personal recovery. He stepped into an active role, fueled by the hope that he could save others from the suffering inflicted on him.

Pulok is preparing to start a support group for victims of gun violence, creating a community where stories, support and resources come together to help those like him. His path to advocacy is not just about healing; he wants to create awareness and action by uniting the voices of those affected by a common mission to end the use of bullets for crowd control.

“It’s a weapon that shouldn’t be used against people — anytime, anywhere,” Pulock says, reflecting on his own experience and the research he’s done since then. “There are so many of us who are scarred and it’s time to talk about it.”

His Facebook page, Stop using guns for crowd control, serves as a focal point by providing facts, sharing testimony, and documenting the dangers these weapons pose. With this platform, he hopes to educate the public and force the authorities to rethink the use of bullet weapons in crowd control.

A flurry of medical procedures

It is not so easy to take damage from such a weapon. In the first weeks after his injury, Pulok and his family traveled from hospital to hospital in search of a medical solution. The National Institute of Ophthalmology and the hospital were teeming with patients and doctors juggling cases with limited time and resources.

The urgency was obvious—the shrapnel had to be removed, and the extensive damage it had caused required not one but several operations. At each hospital, Pulock’s hope that his sight could be fully restored dwindled, but he continued, buoyed by the support of his family.

“They’ve been my strength in all of this,” he says, his voice softening. “My father, a retired Air Force officer, was at every assignment, keeping me grounded.”

Medical losses, both physical and financial, were enormous. The family has paid expenses of around Tk 200,000 and in a few months, another surgery is expected to remove the silicone oil to keep his eye stable.

But even as he fights to save his sight, the risk of developing sympathetic ophthalmia—a dangerous inflammation that could rob him of vision in his good eye—looms.

Going abroad

Pulok maintains ties with international human rights organizations such as the International Network of Civil Liberties Organizations (INCLO) and Physicians for Human Rights (PHR), whose Deadly in disguise The initiative addresses the brutal consequences of using so-called “non-lethal” weapons for crowd control.

By talking to them, he finds not only resources, but also confirmation. “What I went through is preventable and it’s not fair. There are others like me, some even worse. We have to make sure people know about the risks of these weapons.”

On his Facebook page, Pulok took steps to make sure his voice reached the right audience. He publishes articles, shares research and details about how small arms affect lives around the world, from Kashmir to his own home in Bangladesh.

Coverage is permanent; he wants it to serve as a digital record, a call to action, and ultimately a place of support for the injured and their families.

For Pulock, who once worked in the fine arts, the emotional and mental impact of losing his sight was profound. Recently diagnosed with PTSD, he is haunted by memories of the incident, loses sleep, and struggles with anxiety. “I can’t do my job the same way anymore,” he shares. “There is an emptiness that comes from knowing that what you once had is gone forever.”

However, despite everything he’s been through, Pulok feels driven by a sense of duty. He wants to be part of a movement to create a safer future for those who dare to speak up.

Pulok envisions a world where protests are met with dialogue rather than violence; where you can raise your voice without risking permanent damage. For him, activism became a way to channel his pain, turning it into something that could prevent others from suffering the same fate.

While preparing for the next operation, Pulok does not concentrate. This journey is no longer about his own healing; it’s about change, justice and community.

His Facebook page and support group are just the first steps to a bigger fight he intends to take on, even if it means doing so only in the shadows.