At revolutions ground zero

As Egyptians wave flags and cheer themselves hoarse,Tahrir Square finds itself firmly in the centre of the countrys newest chapter. The yellow lights come on in the squarethis night is going to be like none other in recent history. But it took several nights such as this one before Tahrir Square could rewrite Egypts political history.

One such night before the liberation:

7 p.m. Wednesday,February 9

Entering the Republic

Stepping out of the affluent island of Zamalek,where the bulk of the foreign media is camping,7 p.m. looks and feels closer to midnight as shops have shut down and life on the streets is restricted to corner coffee shops and hookah bars.

The taxi makes its way to downtown Cairo and to one of the many entry points into Liberation Square. The circle of soldiers who surrounds the square would earlier check everyone getting into the squareID checks,bag searches,pat downsand would raise a storm over foreign media carrying in cameras. Now,they have given upoutflanked by the protesters who have established an outer cordon beyond the tanks. This is the first line of defence for Liberation Squarescores of volunteers checks IDs and pat down all entering. An Indian passport instantly fetches a smile and a reference to Amitabh Bachchan,who is more popular here than Shah Rukh Khan.

7.30 p.m. The centre of Cairo

Three more security checks later and a simple walk past the line of now disinterested soldiers,and the republic opens out to a breathtaking view. Egyptians from all walks of lifewomen,children,menwalk around as loudspeakers blare out patriotic songs and announcements.

Dozens of shopping places have cropped up,selling everything from socks to water and Egyptian flags. Liberation Square is at its liveliesta screen broadcasts live news in a corner,while a huge flag is carried around the crowds by scores of activists.

Though the words are foreign,the determined force in the slogans comes through to untrained ears,perhaps even to those as young as six-month-old Yana. This is Yanas first visit to Liberation Square and her father,who has been active here for a week,is determined to make it memorable. As her mother distracts her,he holds the infant up as an artist delicately applies paint on her cheeks. A few strokes later and the colours of the Egyptian flag adorn both of Yanas tiny cheeks. She will understand when she grows up. She was there, her father says in broken English but the message is clear.

8 p.m. A time for remembrance

While the carnival scene reflects the spirit of the uprising that is on a high after shaking the regime,sacrifices have not been forgotten. The square is dotted with dozens of posters,all carrying the faces and names of those who were gunned down after the January 25 uprising. These are the new heroes of Egypt,a country that has always associated the military with heroism.

A candlelight vigil has started under the photograph of a young girl,Sally,who was shot through the head by the police in the first few days of the uprising. Young men and women hold up candles to remember the departed,some cry openly. There are no slogans or angry posters,the candle holders stand in silence,head bowed. A powerful picture that has a rippling effect through the square. Many join in,holding up cellphones and cigarette lighters in solidarity.

9 p.m. The garbage collectors

As the city of thousands gets ready for the night stretch,a group ventures out with plastic bags and surgical gloves. A well-dressed couple,with their two boys,7 and 14,walk down the streets,picking up garbage with their hands,and bring the trash to a corner of the square. Here,scores of such squads bring in garbage bags. This is the trash centre of the square. At 9 p.m.,the soldiers outside stand aside as hundreds of the bags are swiftly carried out by willing hands to a nearby truck. They do the job happily,after all,this is their own free space.

10.30 p.m. The McDonalds and the KFC of Tahrir

Like any other army,the forces in Tahrir march on their stomachs. The Republic of Tahrir provides ample choice of food that keeps the sloganeering and vigil going. While volunteers distribute free bread and snacks,the fastidious ones can pick their choice from the many stalls here. Standing next to his fathers food cart is 15-year-old Akhmad who has been calling people in to have a McDonalds. Its simply a sandwich with egg and salad,which can be enhanced with salami at an extra cost. A simple meal costs two pounds Rs 18.

Close by,a 12-year-old holds up a box of dates and shouts himself hoarse: KFC,come have a free KFC. The boys wry humour isnt lost on the people who stop for a bite. During the initial days of the uprising,a rumour spread,allegedly fuelled by the state media,that activists were staying in Tahrir as the KFC outlet there was distributing free lunches. Many who believed the free lunch story took it as a sign that the revolution was being funded by America and Israel. But in reality,the KFC outlet had been shut the day the uprising took place and hasnt opened since. Inside Tahrir,the KFC story is bandied about to poke fun on the regime. It is so silly of them to think that the story would work. People are not that foolish anymore, says the young boy.

11.30 p.m. Communication central

The occupying army of Tahrir knows that communication networks are central to modern movements. They need their phones to make phone calls,send mass texts,MMS messages and to relay live video out of the square. While the army of thousands doesnt tire,the battery of their phones does wear down. Under a large lamppost,Ruben,25,has set up his equipmenta multiple plug recharge station for mobile phones. People walk up to him and hand over their phones. He arranges them in neat piles and plugs them into the recharge points turn by turn. The system works on trust,there are no tokens or counters to identify phones. People come back hours later to collect them,confident that they will remain safe with Ruben.

midnight The travelLing guitarist

In one corner,an elevated stage has become the centre of attraction as a guitarist strums out a few numbers. Numbers swell as he sings a soulful Arabic song. Five days ago,the guitarist,Rammy Ehssan,drove down from his town of Mansoora,two hours away from Cairo,and walked into the square,carrying in only a blanket and his guitar. This is the centre of the revolution. I had to come, he says,as he packs his guitar after an hour of playing. The musician,in his twenties,says he puts up a performance every few hours to inspire people. I create songs sitting here. I use the slogans these people are chanting to create a song, he says.

12.30 a.m. The core of the revolution

At a makeshift camp in the centre of the Tahrir roundabout,is Amr Gharbeia,a social worker who works in an organisation called Technology for Social Change. This is his moment. For months,he has been inspiring people to stand up for change and the masses that have now occupied the heart of Cairo are proof that his work has not been in vain.

1 a.m. The alarm and the call for fight

Parliament Street is a few blocks away from Tahrir,guarded by multiple layers of army troops and dozens of tanks and armoured carriers. But Amr leads the way through a maze of streets and pavements. A ten-minute walk brings us to the Parliament building. Soldiers walk behind the gates of the main symbol of government power in central Cairo. The mood here is different from Tahrir; it is much more sober. The protesters understand the gravity of the situation. While Tahrir is in their control,there are too many vantage points here,too many sniper positions and high gates that need to be negotiated to storm the Parliament.

The one-way Parliament Street is a dangerous place to be. There is only one entry point,that too controlled by the army,while all other exits have been boxed in by scores of soldiers. If things turn nasty,there can be no retreat. Close to 500 activists are sleeping on the street,holding their ground. As the chatter drifts to politics and the future of the Egyptian economy,a wave of tension runs through the street like a live wire. Dozens of men run to one side of the street,whistling and calling out to their sleeping colleagues to wake up.

It seems that the army is planning to throw us out. We have to make a stand, says Khoulod,a student in her early twenties who only moments ago was sharing her experiences of a four-month trip to India,volunteering for a social organisation.

Young men and women wake up from sleep,grab flags and run to the corner of the street,ready to put up a fight. Thankfully,it is a false alarmthe first of many such that will ring through the night.

3 a.m. Back in Tahrir

At three in the morning on Thursday,the day President Mubarak announced a half-hearted measure of stepping aside by handing powers to his deputy,Omar Suleiman,first signs emerge at Tahrir that the movement is nearing the next level. The square is agog with rumours that change is imminent. A young man runs around the square with a newspaper that has a screaming headline: Parliament encircled by protesters,top officials leave Cairo for central Egypt. It is a sign of victory and the newspaper is welcomed with cheers. But soon after,another rumour does the roundsthe army is closing in. Hundreds wake up as the square rings with warning whistles. Again,it is a false alarm. But the resolve to hold on to Parliament Street remains. Tomorrow,I will go and stay there. Tahrir is ours,we need control in more areas, says the newspaper distributor.

3.30 a.m. Liberation Square throbs

A cold,stiff breeze comes in from over the Nile. Acrid cigarette smoke fills the square and hundreds light up in a feeble attempt to beat the cold. Earlier at Parliament Street,Shady Dawood,a 24-year-old engineering graduate,had joked: The real reason for the revolution is the Cleopatra cigarettes. They are horrible,we need to be free of them.

People continue to flow into the square. Abdul Basil Sayed,a 56-year-old,walks in with his 13-year-old son Ahmed. He lights up on seeing us. I went to India many years ago to learn from Bajaj automobiles. We want to be free like India,a great power, he says. I am a big man now,own a big business but the future needs to change for my son, he says.

4 a.m. A doctor leaves for work

Its early morning and Hussam Sabry heads for work to the local hospital. His shift begins in an hour and the 29-year-old psychiatric wants to take a quick shower so that he can be fresh for the days work. When pro-Mubarak activists attacked them more than a week ago,the mild mannered doctor says that he pulled out concrete with his bare hands to strike back. He has a simple explanation for his presence here. I am 29 years old,I am not married,Im doing well in my profession. I have been working for years but cannot even afford my own car. Why is that? he asks.

4.30 a.m. Finally,the square sleeps

It is only a few hours before sunrise that silence falls over the square. The revolutionary army falls silent as people sleep on the roads and nod off to sleep,even on wall tops. As this correspondent nods off for a few minutes,a gentle hand wraps a blanket around. Keep warm, says a young man who is carrying almost a dozen blankets,walking down the street looking for people who might be cold.

5 a.m. Another morning,a new start

The morning of Thursday,February 10. Another day of great hope that the deadlock that has gripped the country would end soon. The chants have started again: We are not going to leave unless you go. A taxi driver waits outside Tahrir Square,he has started his day early. After all,he has to join the protests at Tahrir after the afternoon prayers. Business has been bad, he admits as the car whizzes back to Zamalek,But no problem. Business remains bad for one year,two year8230;no problem. We have changes, he smiles.