Memes and marches: How Gen Z is redefining CJP’s protest over NEET paper leak
The defining feature of the Cockroach Janta Party protest is the collapse of the boundary between the internet and the streets
Thousands of Gen Z activists converged at Delhi's Jantar Mantar to demand the resignation of the Union Education Minister following the NEET paper leak. The protest seamlessly integrated online social media campaigns with physical demonstrations, drawing significant youth participation. Despite facing police action, the movement has broadened its scope to address wider societal and political issues, highlighting a deep concern for the integrity of the examination system and a desire for systemic change.
Thousands of Gen Z activists converged at Delhi's Jantar Mantar to demand the resignation of the Union Education Minister following the NEET paper leak. The protest seamlessly integrated online social media campaigns with physical demonstrations, drawing significant youth participation. Despite facing police action, the movement has broadened its scope to address wider societal and political issues, highlighting a deep concern for the integrity of the examination system and a desire for systemic change.
Thousands of Gen Z activists converged at Delhi's Jantar Mantar to demand the resignation of the Union Education Minister following the NEET paper leak. The protest seamlessly integrated online social media campaigns with physical demonstrations, drawing significant youth participation. Despite facing police action, the movement has broadened its scope to address wider societal and political issues, highlighting a deep concern for the integrity of the examination system and a desire for systemic change.
It was no ordinary Monday morning in Delhi. As Parliament convened for the monsoon session on July 20, thousands gathered just over a kilometre away at Jantar Mantar. Slogans rang out, drum beats filled the air and patriotic songs played from loudspeakers. There was a sense of anticipation as protesters set off towards Parliament demanding the resignation of Union Education Minister Dharmendra Pradhan over the NEET paper leak.
As updates from the march began flooding social media, similar conversations echoed throughout the city. “I haven’t told my parents I’m joining the protest,” a teenager told his friend on the Delhi Metro. Nearby, another commuter praised the integrity of dalit leader and MP Chandrashekhar Azad. “He’s always there when the situation demands,” she said on the phone.
The march ended in a lathi-charge and tear gas, but instead of dissuading protesters, it had the opposite effect. Videos of bruised students fleeing baton-wielding police were shared widely, and the large crowd of thousands stayed put. This has been the defining feature of this movement since its start: the seamless collapse of the boundary between the internet and the streets. As Instagram posts went viral, new participants joined the cause, many not even from Delhi. What began as a protest spearheaded by the Cockroach Janta Party (CJP), which started as a meme page, has since grown far beyond its creators.
Yet, even as the numbers swelled, the movement has retained its unmistakably Gen Z character.
Before setting off for the march to Parliament, many posted ‘fit checks’ on Instagram. “Delhi Police se maar khaane jaa raha hun (Off to get beaten up by the Delhi Police”, read captions, displaying the humour for which Gen Z is often labelled the “most unserious generation”. Hours later, as videos of protesters fleeing the police went viral, memes followed almost instantly. “Parliament ki ghanti bajake bhaag raha hun (I’m running away after ringing the Parliament bell),” read one viral post.
The language of the internet had spilled on to the streets. “Arey jaldi resignation de. Kal Panvel nikalna hai (Resign already. I have to leave for Panvel tomorrow)”, read one, referencing a popular movie dialogue. Another, featuring a photograph of Pradhan, quipped: “Bro is more attracted to the chair than I was to my situationship.”
But for all its memes and irreverence, the protest carried a certain seriousness. Volunteers distributed food, fanned attendees and sprayed them with water through Delhi’s humid July afternoons. Around them, Jantar Mantar functioned almost like a community space: students led chants, artistes performed, posters were created, a free library operated alongside the demonstrations, and stalls invited attendees to write letters to the education minister.
“If we were such an unserious generation, we wouldn’t have been here,” said Tanushree, a 20-year-old student from Delhi’s Mukherjee Nagar preparing for the Staff Selection Commission examination. For her, the protest was not about virality, but about a deeper erosion of trust. “When paper leaks like NEET happen, it brings down our faith in the examination system,” she said.
Interestingly, what began as an education protest has also become a platform for wider conversations. A man dressed as B.R. Ambedkar periodically walks through the crowd, underscoring the Constitution as a framework for justice. Protesters have raised issues such as LGBTQ+ rights, the violence in Manipur and the perceived corporate-political nexus. Nothing seemed off limits. Referencing the alleged donation theft at the Ram Temple, there were chants of: “Mother Sita weeps at what the RSS has done, they’ve looted all the money collected in her husband’s name.”
For many in Gen Z, this was their first protest. Some came out of curiosity, others as active participants. All of them, however, brought along their online profiles, as well as a determination no algorithm can control. Said Maryam Arif, a student at Jamia Millia Islamia: “We were here yesterday, we are here today and we will be here tomorrow as well.”