I marched with my father and friends. He was 67 years old at the time and walked with a cane. We had shared many discussions about our shared opposition to the war since the invasion of Afghanistan and we recognised the build up to the Iraq invasion as being part of that propaganda-driven action. My father brought boxes of samosas and pakoras from Ambala with him – anyone who lives in London and knows their Indian food, knows that Ambala does the best samosas. In Hyde Park he started passing the boxes around among the crowd of people from different cultures, religions, backgrounds. There was a look of real contentment in his face and those of others. Against the backdrop of fake consensus created by the media during that time, it was easy to feel quite isolated in one’s opposition to the war. That moment in Hyde Park among the sea of people united in their shared outrage that such an act could be contemplated and carried out blew that feeling of atomised isolation out of the water and we all recognised and shared it.