Hour of shame
By Akhtar Payami
An endless fleet of military trucks with sturdy Sikh soldiers appeared on Dhaka roads on Dec 16, 1971. Where were these trucks hiding during the war? Were they already present within East Pakistan? What about the mysterious appearance of Bangladeshi flags atop many buildings earlier in that fateful year?
WHEY is it necessary to recall the events of December 16, 1971, year after year? It is because the day marks a watershed in the not-so-glorious history of our beleaguered country. It is also because the fallout of that great tragedy persists in the form of the so-called Geneva Camps spread all over Bangladesh.
And, not the least, it is because the blank looks of hundreds of women reciting Holy Quran in the bordering areas of Bangladesh and India are still vivid in our memory. Those of us who have watched the structure of our magnificent country crumbling on that fateful day cannot forget the frightening moments when death and destruction were so close to us.
An endless fleet of military trucks with sturdy Sikh soldiers were passing along the main road connecting the city with Kurmitola Cantonment, near the capital city of Dhaka. The cantonment had already lost its grip on administration. So, it was almost a field day for the Indian troops.
Shouting slogans of Indira mai ki jai, they were pictures of triumph and confidence. Where were those trucks hiding during the fearful, brief war between two hostile neighbours? Were they already present within East Pakistan while the fight between the two unequal rivals was on?
It is a mystery that has not been solved even several decades after the war. Like many other puzzles in our national history, it remains unsolved. It is like the appearance of hundreds of Bangladeshi flags atop many buildings in Dhaka on March 23, 1971. During the period of united Pakistan, that day used to be celebrated with a great deal of excitement all over East Pakistan. But on that fateful day back in 1971, the Pakistan flag that symbolized the unity and strength of a united nation had lost its glitter.
The Indian army entered the city as conquerors. Though the situation was confusing, it was generally believed that the invading troops were going to stay in Bangladesh for an unspecified period. But this was not to be. The Indians had to retreat within months.
It was on this day that hundreds of leaflets printed in Urdu were dropped by aeroplanes in areas inhabited by Urdu-speaking people. The leaflets issued on behalf of the Indian Commander, General Arora Singh, appealed to the Muslims of Indian origin to surrender their arms to the Mukti Bahinis.
Within moments, mounds of weapons of all descriptions were forced in the open spaces. Only a few days back, arms were distributed among the young people of Mohammadpur to fight the Indians. In fact, a well stocked arsenal was set up in the locality for this purpose.
It was in those days that Pakistan Army picked up hundreds of young boys from the streets of Mohammadpur, gave them rifles and deputed them at strategic points to confront the Mukti Bahinis. There can be no limit to mindlessness. These children, who did not even know how to handle firearms, could have been easy targets of the militant guerrillas. It is a miracle that not many of them were killed. They were rescued only when the Pakistan Army surrendered.
It was in the vicinity of Mohammadpur that bodies of hundreds of Bengali intellectuals, leading professionals and high-ranking officials were discovered. Who killed them and why is still a mystery. But it was certainly a planned move. There were midnight knocks and harassed persons were taken away by force for ‘interrogation’. But they never returned. There have been speculations and denials, but truth has hardly surfaced.
The surrender was ceremoniously televized by the Bangladesh government and given wide publicity. There was no expression of shame or remorse on the beaming face of General Niazi, who was commanding our troops. Only a few days back, he had boastfully rebuffed hosts of foreign correspondents at Hotel Intercontinental on matters of defence strategy.
When a young girl from an American newspaper asked whether the general would be able to hold on to the city of Dhaka for a couple of days more, he had said, “The Indian tanks could reach Dhaka only over my dead body.” But this did not happen and the Indian troops captured the city widely known for its mosques and shrines.
The only place where the writ of the Pakistan government existed was the Kurmitola Cantonment. Pakistan flag flew proudly in that area. Outside, the declarations and announcements by Awami League leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman prevailed. His proclamations were the rule. His ‘Order of the Day’ was printed in newspapers and broadcast by Radio everyday. That provided the guideline for the public and private establishments for their functioning.
No vehicle could ply on the streets of the city without flying a black flag that symbolized the sorrow of the city on the death of thousands of Bengali Muslims. Once while proceeding to the Cantonment, two journalists were stopped at the entrance and asked to remove the black flag. The poor soldiers stationed at the entrance were living in a make-believe world.
As the Urdu-speaking people had cooperated with the Pakistan Army, they were termed ‘collaborators’. How could they act otherwise? They had opted for a part of Pakistan and vowed to defend every inch of that land. Little did they know at that time that Pakistan would disown them.
Why did all this happen? Was there no way out? These are the questions that still haunt the generation that has mournfully watched the dismemberment of Pakistan. How was it that in a brief period of 24 years, a whole nation with an overwhelming Muslim population turned against Pakistan? There is the need to ponder. It is necessary to do so because in a correct analysis lies our salvation.
It was not in a day that the people were alienated. There is a long and painful history behind it. The two-nation theory that formed the basis of the creation of Pakistan took a different turn after the emergence of a homeland for the Indian Muslims. During the 24 years of united Pakistan, there was no sign of Pakistani nationalism.
The geographical conditions were peculiar, as the two wings of the country were separated by more than a thousand miles of hostile territory, but the two parts differed in ways more than one. This produced friction and dissension.
As the people living in the two parts spoke different languages, ate different food, wore different dresses, and had different lifestyles, there was no mutual communication that could have reinforced the ties of national solidarity between them. There were no road links that could facilitate travelling. The air link was too expensive and beyond the reach of the common man. The journey by sea was cumbersome and time-consuming.
Racially and ethnologically, the people of the two wings belonged to two different groups. Sociologically, they presented a contrasting picture. The characteristic feature of the Eastern wing was egalitarianism, homogeneity and liberalism. Tribalism and authoritarianism dominated the social scene in West Pakistan.
Tribalism even today poses a serious threat to national integration, but tribalism was almost non-existent in the Eastern wing. Landlordism was deeply entrenched in the West wing, while there was no landed aristocracy in the Eastern wing. Pakistan indeed presented the essential features of one state with two nations.
Perhaps all these obstacles could have been overcome, if the rulers had realized the importance of creating a just social order. On the contrary, the Eastern wing was neglected and ignored. Its just demands were not heeded. A strong Pakistani nationalism could have surmounted the problems, but it was not to be.
December 16 must be remembered by all of us as it comes as a warning to Pakistan to set its house in order on the basis of understanding and fairness. Ordinary lapses sometimes may create havoc.
The end was never too far
By Asghar Javed Shirazi
THE military cadre that had taken part in action during the 1971 war with India is gradually phasing out of active service. Those who are still on the roll generally avoid recalling what it was like in those troubled times. Muhammad Inamul Haq had spent the eventful month of March 1971 serving as an army major in the erstwhile East Pakistan’s city of Chittagong. He later retired as a colonel.
Recalling what he and his colleagues went through, Colonel Inam says Pakistan Army had been mobilized in February 1971 to “restore order and uphold the authority of the state” in the face of a wide range of difficulties “typically faced by an army in the hunt for rebels who have their roots in the local population and to whom the overwhelming majority of the masses are friendly”.
Practically, he continues, the army was fighting an undeclared war on Indian boarders and combating Indian lead guerrilla force, the Mukti Bahini, in the streets “against heavy odds and misdemeanours by senior army commanders, from Yahya Khan to Yaqub to Tikka Khan and right down to Niazi”.
The s movement picked up momentum with certain incidents at Chittagong, which was the second most important city in the Eastern wing. Soon after the announcement by Awami League leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in early March, the Chittagong Garrison Commander took over the cantonment and the port area with the help of troops from the East Bengal Regiment and the East Pakistan Rifles. Later, cargo ship Swat carrying arms, ammunition, explosives and reinforcement troops from West Pakistan was also taken over. Not much later, the communication centre that ensured link between the East and the West wings had also fallen to the hostile forces. “These were the first physical manifestations of the mutiny that ended in the ultimate military surrender, which remains unprecedented in the annals of history,” says the retired colonel.
By March that year, according to Colonel Inam, who was on an assignment from where he could see both army as well as navy troops, reinforcements from West Pakistan were practically impossible. The soldiers who had already arrived there found themselves in “a state of chaos” as many of them had never been in East Pakistan before, and, as such, were “not familiar with the terrain that was intersected by a number of rivers and streams”. They had no time to get acclimatized, learn the language, know the cultural traits, or even to get familiar with roads and localities.
“It was in these hostile conditions and amidst wild and baseless rumours of all kinds that Pakistan Army was functioning in the Eastern wing,” recalls Inam. While there was some signs of order and control in Chittagong during the day, “nights were truly unruly”. The Mukti Bahini had resorted to revenge killings and mutilated bodies of non-Bengalis, including civil servants, doctors, intellectuals and common people, were found in all parts of the city. Hostile wall chalkings appeared all over the city, and “even young kids would hurl slogans at us”.
With time, the Mukti Bahini began to fight with increasing skill and effectiveness, utilizing their knowledge of the terrain and the ability to get dissolved in the masses in classic guerrilla fashion. “The momentum just kept picking up with every passing day,” recalls Inam.
On its part, India kept fuelling the fire, and prepared the Mukti Bahini for the final kill by “actively recruiting and training volunteers on her soil” and by equipping them with lethal arms, ammunition and guaranteed logistical support. The end was never too far, concludes the retired colonel.
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