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VIEW FROM THE COLONY

Caged Tiger Assaults Its Master

By Sabir Mustafa
_ _ ORNING of March [\/| 26. 1971 wore an
EVA eerie, surreal look. Azimpur Colony was quiet. People were beginning to gather outside, but staying close to the buildings, grown men speaking in a hushed voice, not even daring to venture out of the shadows of the three-storey apartment blocks painted in ghastly yellow.
This was the morning after the night before. No matter how hard one tried, it was practically impossible to get any sleep the previous night The peace and calm of the spring night was shattered into billion pieces by sounds of gunfire. Heavy, continuous sound of machinegun fire; sharp, short bursts of automatic rifles, explosions that made the floor shake: the night air pierced by whistling, screeching sounds Some near, some faraway, but the maddening noise of death and destruction travelled fast through the stillness.
The Pakistan army was on the streets of Dhaka The city and its people were Ils targets. But not until later would I have the faintest idea that the fate ful night was witnessing merely the beginning of the most brutal genocide the world had known since Adolf Hitler let loose his army across Europe in 1939
A tumultous day came to an abrupt end that night. This particular ’day' did not last for a mere 12 or 24 hours. It spanned nearly the entire month of March. 1971 From the 1st onwards, each day was like a new beginning with no end. We did not want it to end. People talked about the Prague Spring of 1968. but they probably hadn't seen Dhaka Spring of 1971 Unlike Prague. Dhaka was not to be cowed Into submission by brute military force
On Marrh 1. Dhaka Stadium the place to be Earlier Raqlbol Hassan had become the Rrat Bengalee to play international cricket (or l'ak Man. lie balled twice, out lbw both limes for a total of 2 runs We had no doubt that the West Pakistani umpires had unfairly IpvT-n him oul to discredit him. and with him the entire Ben
Itaqlb » bat had a triangular sticker on It. with the words Jot Bangla and the map of Bangladesh ( then still East Pakistan, but only just) proudly emblarxoned on M. His abort stay at the crease did not dispirit US too much After all. he had made the REAL point, had nt he? If two symbols could express an entire pen pie a yearning for justice free dam and yes. nationhood, then Jot Bangla and the map of B^ngUdesh were thorn
March I was an eatraordl nary day al the stadium The ’Mini i of anger, out of frus tration and a sense of being o to. ohm _ . sight never to be forgotten. General Yahya Khan, Pakistan's military ruler, had postponed the first session of the newly-elected National Assembly scheduled for March 3. With that, a thin bond which had existed precariously for 24 years, snapped in an Instance
For 24 years, the Bengalee people of East Pakistan endured what amounted to no more than colonial rule from West Pakistan. They fought and died against conspiracy to destroy their language, culture and freedom for over two decades. In 1970. they voted overwhelmingly for a man and a party that had. through years of struggles and sufferings, given Bengalee nationalism a concrete shape, form and substance — Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the Awami League. Yahya Khan's declaration on March 1 came as yet another sign that the Pakistanis would spare no effort to keep the Bengalees
subjugated It also turned out to be the last straw
From the stadium to the university battala. to Bangs bandhu s residence at Dhan mondi Students raised the new Bangladesh flag with the golden map on March 2; they read out a declaration the next day al Pal tan Maidan calling for total independence. They, like the rest, looked to Bangs bandhu for direction, for a signal that the train of events set in motion on March 2 and 3 was o« the ri^it tracks
The signal came on March 7 Pakistani military author! Ues deprived me and millions others the pleasure of watch ing Mujfo s speech on tek-vi ston (come to think of it. I am still waiting for that pleasure. 20 Independent and sovereign years later) But tt seemed the whoie^speech was passed from excited There was no mlstak Ing Mujib's message — prepare to fight for Independence. People seemed positively dizzy with expectation as they recited the last few lines of the speech:
"As we have shed so much blood, we will shed even more blood, but we shall set the people of this country free. In-sha'allahl The struggle this time is for our freedom, the struggle this time is for our independence. Joi BanglaT
The all-conquering slogan rang out again and again from beyond ihe colony wall. Was it wise, on the morning of March 26 when the whole city was facing the bayonet, to be so brave? Wise or fpolish, an other piece of reckless bravery came roaring towards us. A Jeep-load of youngmen. some carrying rifles, came speedtg Into the colony from the di rection of the Palashl crossing. A barely suppressed excitement spread among the
younger onlookers. They had recognised the handsome, bearded man holding a mega phone. He was Khasru. Those of us too young to be university students had merely heard of the semi-legendary Khasru and Montoo., who were credited with driving out Monem Khan's thugs from the university campus in the late 60s.
Khasru made a brief an nouncement from the Jeep: "Pakistanis have killed Sheikh Kamal, but the students, po Hee. EPR and soldiers are fighting back. We will wtnf He asked people with licensed guns not to hand them over to the military authorities, but to give them to the freedom fighters, as he called himself and his comrades. They then drove off. leaving us with a weird sensation The fight this time was for real.
The evening wore on with no electricity and no water. only sporadic bursts of gunfire, including some from near the Piikhana area. The cries of Joi Bangla from that direction had come to an end. I was beginning to feel that the end was near. Not war's end — that had only begun —bu^ my life's end.
Radio was the best companion one could hope to have at such times. Some station was broadcasting news. Calcutta or Agartala or Delhi, wasn't sure but it was certainly India. They said Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had declared independence for Bangladesh, and resistance to the Pakistan army was taking place all over the country.
All through march, we had worried about which way the East Bengal Regiment would turn. They lived In barracks and cantonments, cut-off from the people and obeyed orders as a matter of course from Pakistani commanders. Would they break a life time's habit, training etc. and take up arms against their senior commanders? As kids we worshipped the East Bengal (and only the East Bengal) and its supposed fighting prowess. We knew If they came over to the people's side, then the Punjabis and Pathans and Baluchis would meet a very sordid end in a watery Bengalee grave. But If they didn't ... the thought was too frightening even to contemplate.
March 27 ended all worries on that score. Cooped up In a large Dhanmond! house with several families of relations, the radio once again became point of gathering. We had heard rumours during the day that Chittagong was still free. Somebody said he had heard It on Calcutta radio, someone else said he simply knew, never mind from where
Evening tuning caught a strong signal, and it turned out to be Chittagong. So. the place where Surja Sen and his braves defied the British in 1913 was still altvel A strong, calm voice Identifying himself as Major Zia (of the 8th East Bengal) read out an English text. Calling himself the provisional commander-in-chief of the Bangladesh liberation forces. Zia read out Bangladesh's declaration of Irv dependence on behalf of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
So, it was true. Indian radio wasn't lying the other evening, as some neighbours, over-Imbued with Pakistani propaganda. had suggested. And what's more, the East Bengal Regiment had finally broken out of Ito cage and assaulted Ito master. As soon as people realised the Bengalee people and soldiers were one. they had no doubt about the outcome. The only question re main Ing was whether they and others would live to see the day of victory.