The price of sight: Muhaimin's fight against pellet guns

In the hospital, Muhaimin Pulok’s bandaged left eye embodies his fight for a safer future free from pellet gun harm. Photo: Miraz Hossain

The sound of gunfire rings through Muhaimin Pulok's video. The crowd scatters, cries echo and then everything changes. As Pulok captured the July unrest unfolding on the streets of Dhaka, a single pellet from a police shotgun tore through the air and damaged his left eye. That instant of pain and darkness has since transformed into a deeply personal campaign—a quest to banish pellet guns from the arsenal of crowd control.

Pulok never thought he'd be thrust into this role. An artworker and curator with a keen eye for detail, he used to collect and study different works of art.  But since that July day, his focus has shifted from aesthetics to activism. His Facebook page, Stop Using Pellet Guns for Crowd Control, has become a platform for his call to ban the indiscriminate weapons that now threaten the vision he once took for granted.

It was during one of the most turbulent weeks of 2024. Pulok didn't expect his day to unfold as it did on that chaotic afternoon. He was near the Mirpur DOHS gate, amid rising tension between protesters and authorities, watching the crowds from the sidelines. 

He was only helping out victims with water and toothpaste (used to lessen the effects of teargas). All of a sudden, it happened. "The moment and the sound of the shot were even recorded on my phone. It was already too late—my left eye had been struck, it got bloody, my vision became blurry, and I rushed to my home," recalled Muhaimin. 

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

At first, Pulok and his family resigned themselves to this path, uncertain if there was any other way. But in the back of his mind, the possibility of permanently losing sight in one eye gnawed at him, chipping away at his spirit.

"It felt like the ground had disappeared beneath me," Pulok recalls. "The news was devastating, though the doctors said it very nonchalantly," adds his father. "Only a mother can understand how terrible it felt to hear of a permanent loss for her only son, who has yet to marry and start his own family," his mother says, her voice heavy with emotion.

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

Pulok's injury was neither isolated nor the result of some unfortunate coincidence. His left eye was damaged by the very tools—pellet guns—that were deployed to manage protests, to instil calm. 

As he stood recording that day, he didn't realise how far things would go: a direct hit from a pellet lacerated the cornea of his left eye and lodged inside it, a cascade of medical interventions and surgeries unfolding over the next few months, yet yielding only a sliver of vision. Today, he can vaguely make out light and the movements of shadows, but full sight is a memory.

My injury isn't an accident; it's the consequence of a weapon that has no place in crowd control.

Muhaimin Pulok

Voice against lethal weapons in crowd control 

Now, three months and several surgeries later, Pulok's fight goes beyond personal recovery. He's stepped into a role of activism, fueled by the hope that he can save others from the suffering inflicted upon him. 

Pulok is preparing to launch a support group for victims of pellet gun violence, creating a community where stories, support and resources converge to help those like him. His journey toward advocacy isn't simply about healing; he wants to spark awareness and action, uniting the voices of those who've been impacted under a shared mission of ending the use of pellet guns in crowd control.

"It's a weapon that shouldn't be used on people—at any time, in any place," Pulok says, reflecting on his own experience and the research he has since undertaken. "There are so many of us who bear the scars, and it's time we speak up about it." 

His Facebook page, Stop Using Pellet Guns for Crowd Control, serves as a rallying point, providing facts, sharing testimonies and documenting the dangers these guns pose. Through this platform, he hopes to educate the public and pressure authorities to rethink the use of pellet guns in crowd management.

A barrage of medical procedures 

Bearing such a weapon's harm is not so easy. In the initial weeks after his injury, Pulok and his family scrambled from hospital to hospital in search of a medical solution. The National Institute of Ophthalmology and Hospital was swarming with patients and doctors juggling cases with limited time and resources. 

The urgency was apparent—the pellet had to be removed and the extensive damage it caused required not one, but several operations. At each hospital, Pulok's hope that his sight might be fully restored diminished, but he pressed on, encouraged by his family's support. 

"They've been my strength through all of this," he says, his voice softening. "My father, a retired Air Force officer, has been at every appointment, keeping me grounded."

The medical toll, both physical and financial, has been immense. The family has borne costs close to Tk200,000 and another surgery to remove the silicone oil keeping his eye stable, awaits in a few months. 

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

Reaching beyond borders

Pulok is in touch with global human rights organisations, like the International Network of Civil Liberties Organizations (INCLO) and Physicians for Human Rights (PHR), whose Lethal in Disguise initiative addresses the brutal consequences of using so-called "non-lethal" crowd control weapons. 

In speaking with them, he finds not only resources but validation. "What I've gone through is preventable, and it's unjust. There are others like me, some even worse off. We need to make sure people know the risks of these weapons."

On his Facebook page, Pulok has taken steps to ensure his voice reaches the right audience. He posts articles, shares studies and details on how pellet guns are impacting lives globally, from Kashmir to his own home in Bangladesh. 

The outreach is constant; 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 Pulok, who once worked with visual arts, the emotional and mental impact of losing his sight is deep. Recently diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, he's haunted by memories of the incident, losing sleep and grappling with anxiety. "I can't do my work the same way anymore," he shares. "There's an emptiness that comes from knowing something you once had is gone forever."

Yet despite everything he has endured, Pulok finds himself motivated 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, not violence; where voices can be raised without the threat of permanent damage. For him, activism has become a way to channel his pain, turning it into something that might prevent others from suffering the same fate.

As he prepares for his next surgery, Pulok's focus remains steady. This journey is no longer just about his own healing; it's about change, justice and community. 

His Facebook page and support group are just the beginning steps toward a larger fight that he's determined to take on—even if it means doing so with only a shadow of sight.