বিজয়ের অজানা ইতিহাস

[zakirc]

মুক্তিযুদ্ধের অনেক ঘটনাই এখনো অজানা এবং অপ্রকাশিত রয়ে গিয়েছে। আপনাদের কারো যদি এরকম কনো ঘটনা জানা থাকে তাহলে এই সুতায় লিখুন। এতে করে আমরা নিজেরা যেমন নতুন কিছু জানতে পারবো, তেমনি ভবিষ্যতে হয়তবা কেউ উদ্যগি হয়ে এইসব ঘটনা সঙ্কলিত করবে।

[MAHBUB_zaman_3000]

ভাল আইডিয়া

[tutul]

ঘটনাটি অজানা কিংবা অপ্রকাশিত নয়, ভাগ্যের কী নিরমম পরিহাস, মুক্তিযুদ্ধের চরম বিরোধীতাকারী একজন রাজাকার এই সেদিন দেশের মন্ত্রী ছিল পাচটি বছর!

[Tigers_eye]

I was very little then. So much so can't remember anything. But have listened through mother and others so many times.

Dad already was moved to Pakistani jail we didn't know his wear abouts or even if he was alive or not. We lived in 1/3 Dilu road, New Eskaton then.
August 18, 1971 I think (the date may be wrong).
Member in the house: My two elder sisters, mother, grand parents (nana-nanu), two Aunts (mother's younger sisters) and two relatives (uncle- and his dad) who came from khulna for medical checkups the day before. Little after midnight, a man came rushing behind the house (there were a passage) knocking at my G parents window saying "khalamma, khalu kay ekhoni ber hotey bolen. Army ashtasey, ar light jalaiey na. Amar gaye kisu nai." (Aunty, ask uncle to get out of the house right now. Army is coming, and don't turn on the lights. I am naked.) it was a targeted raid. 49 houses that night was raided. One of the dark days in our liberation war in Dhaka.

Obviously panicked set in our house. A lungi was given to the informer who had just escaped from the jaw of the death from an Army raid. People could hear Army trucks making there way in the narrow entrance of our road (goli). In the back of the house my aunts were helping Nana (Engineer Hafizul Alam) get over the wall with the informer pulling him from the other side of the wall.

The Alsatian was barking at his loudest and holding down the front gate literally with two front legs. That gave just enough time for nana to escape. Two Army officers came down asked the darwan to remove the dog or else would shoot the dog. The darwan reluctantly chained the dog and opened the gate. Soldiers started to secure the compound. Then there was the 'knock on the door'. "Darwaja kholo"!! (Open the door!!) My mother opened the door and asked what they wanted. The first question was who is in the house, then where is Habibul Alam (mama-uncle), then where is hafizul Alam (nana), and then where is the kitchen? Mama (uncle) had already joined the war long time ago. So a made up answer was given and she showed the kitchen which was in the back detached from the main house. The Officer had asked all the women and children to stay inside the house. My aunts saw the army had escorted a person blindfolded through the passage to the kitchen. They heard loud noises and knew exactly what went on. The entire kitchen floor was being uprooted. nana had built a storage area there after the war had begun. It was full of stashed arms and ammunitions. Our house was one of the so called biggest arm deput for the freedom fighters. That was a big blow on liberation war.

Usually anytime when there is something like this found, no one in the house is spared. They kill them all. However, the with grace of Almighty, the Army didn't do any harm to any of us. Now I am here to convey this story to you. I guess the Army was happy to get ammunitions. The Army had intelligence and came to know about other houses in dhaka. The two relatives who were in the house were picked up for questioning and then released the next day after some heavy beating.

Later my three aunts (the two present that day and their elder sister who already left for Agartala), my nana joined the liberation war. Well nana was already involved. My Uncle's (Habibul Alam - Bir protik - Author of the book Brave of Heart) head was 2 lakh rupee (dead or alive) then.

Every now and then we listen to the stories. Over the years, those stories became so vivid that some times I feel I saw them with my own eyes. I am proud to be a "mukti joddar shontan".

[AsifTheManRahman]

What happened to your dad?

[Tigers_eye]

Originally Posted by AsifTheManRahman
What happened to your dad?

After 3 years in second to the last flight of the POWs exchange he kissed the ground.

[zakirc]

Wow ... great one.

A few more like this and I will take initiative to publish a book in next Ekushey Boi Mela .. (with your permission of course).

[Tigers_eye]

Sohel_NR,
Please do this thread a justice.

Mijan.

[SideWinder]

Wow, we do love our country don't we man?

[Nocturnal]

Just wondering....where is zakirc (thread opener from Muhammadpur, Dhaka)? He was very regular in BC few months ago.

[Sohel]

here's a couple of books from real freedom fighters: -

1. Advance to Conact: A Soldier's Account of Bangladesh Liberation War by Major (Retd.) Akhtar Ahmed, Bir Pratik, Freedom Fighter, Sector 2 and K-Forces, published by the University Press Limited, Dhaka. ISBN 984 05 1498 9
E-mail: upl@bangla.net
Web: http://www.uplbooks.com/

2. Brave of Heart by Habibul Alam, Bir Pratik, Freedom Fighter, Sector 2 and K-Forces, published by Academic Press and Publisher's Library, Dhaka. ISBN 984 08 0201 1
E-mail: appl@dhaka.net

we need to hear what they have to say. for this thread, i'd strongly suggest that BC members talk to their families, get personal stories and accounts of 1971 and start posting them here. i'll start posting personal and second-hand accounts, as well as excerpts from books such as the two mentioned here over time.

here's one of my many personal accounts: -

i just turned 4 inside the prison camp in mandi bahauddin. my father, a decorated major from the kashmir war was taken away by the same pat'han soldiers who saluted him just a few moths ago. one of the older kids in the camp told me that my "abbu" was being tortured for organizing a prison break, so that he, manzoor, and taher uncle among others could go back and fight with zaman, zia and khaled uncle with the muktibahini. "torture" was a new word for me. the older kid told me that torture had something to do with causing pain. "how much pain and for what?" i asked him, he just gave me a don't ask look and promptly exited the scene, avoiding me for months after that. i knew what "pain" was from personal experiences like jumping off of high places and what not, and was just learning to recognize that other kind of "pain" from my mother's face, as she threw a makeshift birthday party inside the unbearably hot piece of land carved out of the desolate landscape by several miles of barbed-wire fence.

unable get my father out of my mind, and more mad at him than anything else, i wandered off too close to the fence, until one of the guards saw me. he asked me if i spoke pashtu and i told him that i did pick up some from nawaz bhai, our pat'han servant from the better life before the war broke out. then he asked me who my father was and i told him. i also told him that it was my birthday. his eyes welled up instantly and he asked me to come over to his side through the gaps. i did and he hoisted me over his shoulders and carried me into his tent. nobody else was there. he put a spoonful of condensed milk in between a couple of standard-issue army crackers and said "happy birthday" before handing me the entire can of condensed milk to take home with me, a prized luxury inside the camp. then he hugged me and suddenly, violently broke down like a baby, and kept on mumbling in urdu, "maf kar dijiye, hamlog ki maf kar dijiye" (please forgive us) ... having never seen a grown up man cry like that before, i started to cry too. i believe our tears saved a light that day, and that light has kept the better part of me intensely vigilant against all forms of hate. turns out (i found out only recently) that he served under my father in kashmir, and that his brother was living in dhaka, and sending him letters describing what was happening to his friends in and around wari.

i made it back safely, and waited for my father to come home. eventually, he did.

i didn't find out what the term "torture" meant until they returned my dad in pieces, but still with the defiant, bring it on smirk on his face that told me among others things, they didn't get me. i remember being surprised by the dark circles under those serene, slightly mischievous, hazel eyes and a body struggling to resume its normal, basic functions. i recall being more surprised by the fact that his spirit seemed more indomitable than ever. baffled by the sharpest of contrasts between the body and the spirit, i asked him why it was so. he actually laughed, and said " the grass will always be greener in bangladesh." clueless, i asked him what he meant. he looked me in the eye and said, "remember this my son, remember this day, this is who i am and will never be better than what you're looking at right now. those who are not fortunate enough to see their children at this moment, and the millions risking their lives so that they can live to fight another day to take back what is rightfully ours, are better than what i can ever be ..." then he passed out. it took me another eight years to understand what he really meant, when i left dhaka for suburban DC.

[Sohel]

mijan,

how about a couple of accounts from your asma and resma khalas ? your alam mama (my alam uncle) continues to be an inspiration in my life.

sohel.

[Electrequiem]

this is a great effort ... kudos zakirc bhai

[Kana-Baba]

In 1971, my father was a student of Chittagong University and an active member of communist party. Early in April 1971, he came back to his village (Haidgaon, Potia, Chittagong). My grandparents thought he would not be safe there. Soon he was sent to his uncles’ home at different village (Gumdandi, Boalkhali, Chittagong).

There he spent lazy time for couple weeks. But, being an active political worker and wannabe comrade of communist party he could not seat idle for long time. Soon he established connection with freedom fighters and planned to escape to India to get training and participate in the war. He also planned to raise awareness among the youths of the village and take as many young men as possible with him to war. So he was frequently engaged in having meeting with youths.

Some Rajakar from the same village came to know about it and informed the Pakistani Army. As a result army came to village and captured my father, couple of his cousins and few other youths of that village who were preparing to go to war. The army could not recover any arms and ammunitions from my father, as my father was not officially in the war, but they have recovered many documents about communist party and liberation war.

They put my father in jail (Chittagong central jail). My father was there till Bangladesh got independence. He was beaten mercilessly in the jail. Even after 36 years of independence, my father still carries the signs of torture. One deep cut in his back due to bayonet charge has an interesting history and makes me proud of my dad - in the jail no one was allowed to smoke. My father light up a cigarette and let out the puff onto the face of a Paki Army Major just to show that even in captivity Bengalis are not scared! Eventually that major got mad at my father and charged him with bayonet. Luckily he survived!!

He came out of the jail when all the prisoners were set free after the independence. He, along with others who were captured with him, came back to village and captured the Rajakar. The ill fated Rajakar was then received ultimate punishment. He was tied to a mango tree and a magazine of bullets was unloaded on him.

[Sohel]

Kana-Baba: thank you for sharing that account with us. however, please note that "war crimes" include pretty much all extra-judicial killings, irrespective of however "justifiable" that cause may be. there is no statute of limitation on war crimes, and it is advisable that you do not implicate your greatly admirable father in such an act. i suggest that you edit those parts out. bongobondhu's infamous (in my view, correct) pardon covered all those who supported pakistan, not those who committed war crimes. there may yet be a war crimes tribunal in bangladesh under the guidelines of the ICJ, and all war crimes will be scrutinized by that body when that happens. i for one, strongly support the idea of a south africa-style "truth and reconciliation commission" that can grant people conditional immunity in exchange for the truth. we need the truth to write our authentic history and move forward. from one child deeply effected by the war to another, a big hug. i feel you my brother...

by the way three of my chachas and one phuphu, fought in chittagong. my ghazi chacha remembers the boalkhali area well.

[Kana-Baba]

Originally Posted by Sohel NR
Kana-Baba: thank you for sharing that account with us. however, please note that "war crimes" include pretty much all extra-judicial killings, irrespective of however "justifiable" that cause may be. there is no statute of limitation on war crimes, and it is advisable that you do not implicate your greatly admirable father in such an act. i suggest that you edit those parts out. bongobondhu's infamous (in my view, correct) pardon covered all those who supported pakistan, not those who committed war crimes. there may yet be a war crimes tribunal in bangladesh under the guidelines of the ICJ, and all war crimes will be scrutinized by that body when that happens. i for one, strongly support the idea of a south africa-style "truth and reconciliation commission" that can grant people conditional immunity in exchange for the truth. we need the truth to write our authentic history and move forward. from one child deeply effected by the war to another, a big hug. i feel you my brother...

by the way three of my chachas and one phuphu, fought in chittagong. my ghazi chacha remembers the boalkhali area well.

Dear Sohel Bhai,

I think I can understand what you are trying to say. I too hate extrajudicial killing. But things were not the same in the battle field during 1971. While I would not attempt to justify any unethical act, but here are few surrounding facts that might provide a bit more insight:

* Even though Pakistani soldiers officially surrendered on 16^th December, 1971, parts of Bangladeshi soil were still occupied. Small pockets of resistance from Rajakar, Al Badar, Al Shams, and Biharis were visible till the end of January – the war was pretty much on.

* The Rajakar killing incident I mentioned here took place immediately after our independence, probably with a week of independence – we were pretty much unofficially in the war then.

* Last but not least, it took place long before Bangabandhu’s Perdon and at that moment there was no literal order from interim Bangladesh Government to freedom fighters to handover the arms.

While my fathers (and his cousins and friends) attempt to go war was certainly a heroic work, unfortunately taking revenge on to the Rajakar can not be termed in the same way. I know it would have been ideal for my father and his groups to get out of the jail on 16^th December, 1971 and go back to his village, capture the Rajakar and feed him good foods, take good care of him until he was handed over to the appropriate authority. But the reality was quite different….

War is not only about greatness and heroism; it is also occupied with lots ordinary acts and scar. I can certainly delete last portion of my post but will be considered as an attempt to tamper the truth. Therefore I have decided not to do so. I strongly believe If we want to know about our past we have to admit it fully.

sincerely -
Rajeeb Shahriar Roney (Kana-Baba)

[Sohel]

point taken rajeeb shahriar roney, your choice and i respect that. thanks for putting the time and thought into your post.

[Tigers_eye]

Originally Posted by Sohel NR
mijan,

how about a couple of accounts from your asma and resma khalas ? your alam mama (my alam uncle) continues to be an inspiration in my life.

sohel.

Sohel Bhai,
inshallah next year when we visit BD will get some of the unheard, undocumented stories and post it here. Till then I encourage others who are close to the near and dear ones who were part of the war, or even witnessed it, to get the real facts and post it here.

Kana-Baba bhai,
Thinking of what we are made of, revenge is just a continuation process of this grusome ordeal. I for one would have done the same or even worse. That's just me. That's the authoritarian part. Please entertain us more.

[Sohel]

Bumping this up for a reason. Let's hear some thoughts and impressions, especially from our younger members born after 1971, as to what they think happened that year of our liberation, why and what were the ideals our people faught and died for?

[Puck]

i was born four years into the new country. there is very little that i remember about the seventies other than going over to our very affectionate hindu neighbour's flat.

they had a puja room which i was fascinated by. there were colourful dolls, incense, candles and alpana on the floor. one of the first memories of my childhood is actually standing at the door to that room and being warned by mashi not to tread on the alpana while she fed me sondesh. i naturally enquired why i shouldn't step on it. she said it was because i was not a hindu. so i said that i wasn't a muslim until the next month when they'd do my musalmani.

my father was a junior civil servant who had worked under bangabandhu and a few of the ministers of that regime. the story goes that one of the ministers saw him like his own son and had peeled oranges for him as my father would never eat unpeeled oranges! my father was personally attracted to the personality of bangabandhu. as children, we tend to hold the versions of truth given to us by our parents, so i dare say i knew anything about the political upheavals within the first ten years of bangladesh. i knew from my mother that my boromama wasn't allowed to go and fight in the mukti bahini as he was too young. my maternal grandfather was an educational adviser to pakistan government and had feared that his son's direct involvement in muktibahini might be rather dangerous. however, that didn't stop that side of the family in helping with the war effort in terms of collecting food and shelter for muktibahini. unknown to my grandfather, my boromama was also heavily involved with local youth resistance groups that used to supply information to muktibahini about troop movements. as a result, he was arrested and taken away towards the end of june.

my paternal uncle, chacha, had been a brilliant student of geography and was a few years older than my boromama. after finishing university he had started working as a junior lecturer. one of his old university friends from west pakistan had joined the pakistani army just a couple of years ago and had been posted in east pakistan as a junior officer in 1971. when this officer had been a student at dhaka university a few years ago, he would frequently visit my dadabari with my chacha as he loved my dadi's cooking. it was through his efforts that my boromama was found. he had been tortured and beaten to an inch of his life.

my dada was a relatively high ranking civil servant when war was declared. he was posted in dhaka at the time and within a few years away from retirement. my father was a first class magistrate (a juinior civil servant) at that time. this side of the family had been heavily connected with supplying food and offering shelter to many individuals wanted by the pakistani army, as well as passing on messages. word has it that whenever any suspicion would be raised about my dada or father sheltering muktibahini personnel, my chacha's friend from pakistani army would warn the family in advance. so during the raids, nothing suspisious was found to implicate anyone.

after the defeat of the pakistani army word came to my dada that the pakistani officer who had helped save the family severeal times during the war was himself hiding somewhere, and in grave danger. so my father and chacha drove my grandfathers government jeep to outside dhaka where he had been hiding and brought him back to my dada's house. he was a major problem for the family as although they were heavily involved in the indirect war effort, now they were sheltering someone wanted by muktibahini. there was in fact one raid to the house but this time the family had been warned by several of my dada's nephews who were muktijodhas themselves.

so a plan was hatched to get him back to pakistan! since this officer was able to speak fluent bengali, albeit with an accent, he could easily pass as a behari or from an urdu speaking dhakaiya family. my father, chacha, boromama and few other cousins drove to the indian borders and managed to pass him over to the indian side of our family. since that side of the family have always had major political and judiciary connection in india, it was much easier for them to shelter this pakistani officer. eventually he reached pakistan safely. my chacha decided to go to america to do his phd in the late seventies. he settled there eventually. i don't know if he is still in touch with his pakistani friend.

i have very faint memories of the zia era. my father was a middle ranking civil servant by that time and i remember the various political changes preceeding ershad. it didn't mean much to a small child at that time. the 80's, as i was growing up was a relatively peaceful time for me. i read a lot of books, played a lot of football at school, cycled a lot around dhanmondi in the evenings until sunset. i had no political consciousness. in early 1988, just before i was to become a teenager we left bangladesh. i returned for a week to see my dada in 1991 for a brief week but have not been back since. what i know of the early turbulent days are through second hand accounts from my parents. for events after 1975, my father is likely to be biased as bangabandhu always treated him like a son while working under him. several members of the extended family were mps and ministers within both the democratic governments.

[Sohel]

Thank you for sharing those memories Puck. When it comes to your father's personal fondness for Sheikh Shaheb, as he was known in our family and has been ever since, I can certainly empathize with what he feels. I was in ULab when Russell was there also. Though I didn't like him very much because of reasons only an 8 year old can feel that strongly about, I was crazy about his dad as most people were bound to be once they met him. Simple, charming, funny and immensely approachable, it was impossible not to fall for him. Even my grandfather, an extremely witty, hard-nosed and somewhat cynical academic who was never easy to please, was seduced by his warmth despite political differences, and gladly accepted his politically motivated, kangaroo court prison term because of his early and continued protests after the tragedy, when most of the Mushtaq faction of the BAL was busy lining up for cabinet positions.

My mother was close to Sheikh Kamal and later Sultana khala, and I remember the prolonged mourning that followed her for years, despite her total opposition to BAKSAL and the deplorable roles played her friend Kamal and Sheikh Moni in that original betrayal of our Constitution. It still breaks my heart to recall that morning of August 15th and Dalim's voice over the radio. I remember the indifference on the strange "streets" just days after the tragedy confusing me beyond description. I felt as though something precious was taken from me forever and nobody cared.

The way to deal with the crimes and transgressions of the BAKSAL dictatorship, including the extra-judicial murder of thousands of left wing activists and guerillas, many of them heroic freedom fighters like Shiraj Shikdar - especially at the height of the Cold War and falling dominoes when the very existence of Bangladesh was in question - was not by crimes and transgressions of one's own, and can never be described as anything other than the heinous crime it was.

Anyway, still waiting to read what Nafis, antora93, Dhrubo and other BC young and older guns feel or think about 1971, that glorious year in our history, and who or what has influenced those thoughts and feelings.

[Puck]

Originally Posted by Sohel NR
Thank you for sharing those memories Puck. When it comes to your father's personal fondness for Sheikh Shaheb, as he was known in our family and has been ever since, I can certainly empathize with what he feels. I was in ULab when Russell was there also. Though I didn't like him very much because reasons only an 8 year old can feel that strongly about, I was crazy about his dad as most people were bound to be once they met him. Simple, charming, funny and immensely approachable, it was impossible not to fall for him. .

sheikh shaheb it was indeed. it is all coming back to me now! my father would also refer to him as bongobondhu.

while working under sheikh mujib, having always had archival interests, he took a great interest in mujibs speeches in the pakistan parliament. i believe that this accounted to having a chance to informally interview mujib about those speeches. my father did a lot of archival work over the next twenty years as well as interviewing several political contemporaries of mujib in pakistan and in bangladesh, and subsequently published a monograph containing selected speeches just after awami league won the election in the 1990's, and when he was close to retirement.

i think the title of the book is 'sheikh mujib in parliament, 1955-58. it would have been deemed dangerous to have such publications under ones name before the regime change. in 2001 he published another monograph that contained mujib's official appointment diary and correspondance with annotations. i believe that he has been working on another book, perhaps a personal recollection of mujib which, as he has stated to me, would not be published until after his death. i have to say that even i know very little about his project!

you must be very close to the mark about mujib's personality as privately, my father criticised awami league and bnp just as much as each other but would never utter a bad word against mujib. mujib must have made quite a mark on my father to have done so much archival work over the years, especially since his personal area of research and publication had always been women and politics in mughal india, quite a far cry from mujib!

i believe that he was asked to deliver a speech in some mujib memorial where sheikh hasina was to be present. the speech basically contained a brief political sketch of mujib's life. there was one paragraph where my father had written something along the lines of, 'in 1975 mujib dissolved parliament and instigated a one party state'. this was very much objected to by his daughter, however, from what i know, the speech was delivered as he had written it without crossing out any offending bits!

[Sohel]

There's only one way to describe, though inadequately, the political Sheikh Shaheb before 1973 ... leading the typically back-biting Bengali petit-bourgeoisie through the events of 1969 is nothing short of miraculous. Even my late father, never a PAL or BAL, got himself demoted from Major to Captain for decking a Punjabi Brigadier mistaking him for a Pathan and talking crap about the man who emerged as Baungobondhu that year. The decorations due to notable exploits in the Kashmir War saved my father from a dishonorable discharge. Abba was reinstated immediately upon the fall of Ayub Khan.

[Puck]

this is almost a trip through nostaligia as reading your posts had made me think about regular discussions between my parents at the dining table! my dada had visited us once during lunchtime and the discussion was about ghandi. this would be sometime in the early 80's as we were all about to watch the david lean biopic of ghandi on vcr. my father said something about how mujib should have retired from politics after liberation and perhaps ought to have opted for the position of head of state, rather than government, and left the politics to other politicians.