In part four of his story, roving reporter Jody McIntyre is still on the front line with the Tamils...

Monday 17th May:
When I heard that the Tamils' had flooded out onto the roads of Westminster once again this afternoon, for the sixth time since their occupation of Parliament Square began, I felt proud.  I felt proud that this brave section of society had stood up against police repression, stood up against the ridiculous anti-demonstration laws and stood up against the international media who have portrayed their people as terrorists. Of course, I would have to join them in Westminster once again.

When I arrived at the tube station (by this time it was evening) I saw Tamil families on their way home, with national flags and scarves wrapped around them, which made me think that I might've missed the height of the day's uprising. I needn't have worried.  As I emerged up onto street level, I could see people for as far as my eyes could gaze.  Thousands and thousands of Tamils covered every road in the vicinity - the Houses of Parliament were literally under siege! And rightly so, considering what a discredited institution that place has proved itself to be. Isn't this how revolutions start?

But my first thought was this - how is this not in the news? For a spectacle of this magnitude, I would have expected up-to-the-minute breaking news reports on the BBC. But it was not reported once.

I made my way towards the police lines which seperated the swelling crowds from Westminster Bridge - another discredited institution in charge of repressing dissent at all costs (although "in charge" they clearly were not) - wary of the danger those hi-vis jackets so often bring. Their intimidation tactics were on show as usual; I even heard one female copper threatening to take a man's child away for "not looking after him properly".  This was extremely ironic considering the events that were to follow later that evening.

I read a book under the glow of the street lighting whilst the evening melted into night; a sheet (promptly wrapped around my body whether I liked it or not) and food were provided by my Tamil brothers and sisters, despite my protests that they would be better spent on someone in more need. By midnight, I was braced for the worst.  It was another soundbite of a conversation between coppers which I caught, suggesting that they would wait until the tube station was closed for the night before launching their next violent attack on the brave protestors.

And at around 12:15am, the inevitable happened. It was the G20 all over again.  We tried marching slowly, but their force was overwhelming this time. Unfortunately, I was pulled out of the crowd at an early stage.  Nevertheless, I was witness again to the brutal tactics of our police state.

By 1am, everyone had been penned back onto Parliament Square, although I have no idea how.  I saw injured bodies being dragged from the crowd - Tamils who had dared to not move when told. As I sat across the road (the police repeatedly refused me entrance back into the crowd) wondering how we could ever rise up against such an overpowering force, only one thing was clear in my mind.  We must do so.

Long live the resistance.

Words: Jody McIntyre.
Photos: IndyMedia, one of the the few places that has been reporting the Tamils' struggle.