I often think about all the times our kids took to the streets to ask for something—justice for their friends who were killed in road crashes or raped and brutally murdered. All they were doing were demanding road safety or an end to the culture of impunity enjoyed by the perpetrators. Each time, the authorities turned a blind eye to such protests. At times, their voices were simply ignored, while at others they were silenced with violence.

But imagine something as harmless as asking for the protection of a playground. How can that land a parent and her minor child in jail—and without proper grounds and an arrest warrant? Where does this vulgar urge to flaunt power stem from?

That is exactly what happened with Syeda Ratna, coordinator of Tentultala Math Rakkhya Andolon, and her 17-year-old son, who were detained on Sunday morning when they went live on Facebook to show Kalabagan police building a wall on the playground, while a group of kids accompanied by their parents were also protesting the act. When contacted, Sharif Mohammad Faruquzzaman, assistant commissioner of Dhaka Metropolitan Police (New Market zone), said the two were picked up for "obstructing police from discharging their duties."

Tentultala playground has been in the discussion for several months now, after the Dhaka deputy commissioner's office handed over the playground land to the DMP on January 31 this year to construct a new establishment for Kalabagan police station. The one bigha land has been a playground, an Eidgah, and a place for namaz-e-janaza for over 50 years now. Locals, naturally, refused to give up the playground and for several months, they've been demonstrating against the DMP's move to take possession of the land. It is in the continuation of the ongoing protests that when Ratna saw the walls going up around the playground, she decided to inform her fellow protesters of the turn of events, using the most viable tool at hand—social media.

After 13 hours of negotiations and arguments, Ratna's teenage son was finally let go at around 10:30pm on Sunday, while Ratna was freed upon signing a bond that said she would not involve herself with any demonstration over the matter. How can a law enforcement agency curtail a citizen's right to protest and make demands on their authorities in such a manner?

More questions remain, even after they are freed.

A video recording went viral after the fellow protesters of Ratna and journalists went to the police station after the mother-son duo were detained. When asked if the on-duty officer knew how old the boy was, he said, "We cannot always confirm their age by simply looking at them."

And yet, without any confirmation, without any offence, they detained him.

When those present at the police station asked the on-duty officer if they had issued an arrest warrant before detaining Ratna and her son, he said, "We don't always need a warrant."

According to Section 54 (1) of the Code of Criminal Procedure, there are nine instances where a law enforcement official can detain an individual without a warrant. A peaceful protest or documentation of an event might not, in our definition, fall under any of these clauses. But somehow, to our law enforcers, it was an act of "obstructing a police officer while in the execution of his duty." A crime so horrendous that a protester can be taken into custody without a warrant.

Police, as we have been taught all our lives, are "friends" of the people. Public servants, they are called. How exactly are they serving the public if they make unlawful arrests to instigate fear among citizens, to restrain a peaceful protest by children? How can we trust them to save us when they turn into perpetrators themselves?

And most importantly, from where do they get this notion that instigating fear among law-abiding citizens through an ugly display of power can get things done their way? When did they become this unaccountable?

Construction work is still being carried on at the playground, even after Home Minister Asaduzzaman Khan said he had asked the city corporation and others concerned to find an alternative place for Kalabagan police station.

In the proposed Detailed Area Plan (DAP) of Dhaka, Tentultala playground is not earmarked as a playground. But in Sub-Zone 17 (Dhanmondi, Zigatola, Kalabagan and Kathalbagan), there is a proposal to keep sufficient open space for the area. According to the law to conserve playgrounds, open spaces, parks and water bodies, no one can change the characteristics of a playground. Environmental activists say the place has been used as a playground for a long time and changing its characteristics will be illegal.

In 2014, the High Court directed the DC office to take action against any encroachment of open spaces or playgrounds in Dhaka. The office, too, remains silent when it comes to the Tentultala playground.

How many times have the authorities banned or proposed a ban on social media or gaming apps to stop our kids from going "astray"? How many times have they urged on "healthier" modes of entertainment for the teens?

And when they are asking for just that—a mere playground—why are they being taken away and stuffed into jail?

Why, amid many protests, all the provisions for a playground in place, and most importantly, after the home minister's reassurance, is the construction still going on? What does this say about our law enforcers? That they will not leave any chance to proudly showcase their vehement power, even when it comes to a playground for children?

With each passing day, our right to dissent and raise our voices is being curtailed. There's something so challenging—or dare I say "anti-establishment"—about a group of kids and their parents asking to protect their local playground that they need to be detained.

Resisting this culture of unaccountability is a timely need. And when I look at the picture of Ratna and her son upon their release—the sheer love and indomitable spirit with which they came through—I can sense an air of resistance. Yes, sir, you do need a warrant. No, you cannot detain a minor, and neither can you stop the protests. Try us.

Nahaly Nafisa Khan is a sub-editor at the Metro desk of The Daily Star.