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UNTOLD AND UNHIDDEN FACT

The sudden disappearance of my dear father

Nazmunnessa Mahtab
EVERY year, when December comes close, I feel an urgency that I must recollect my memories and let the world know what we have lost in the war of independence. But from the very beginning, that is December 17th, 1971, the day we actually lost him, a question becomes very vivid in my mind. Will this write up bring him back to us? Every year when I take up my pen the same question haunts my mind and I can never proceed to do the work. The question may arisen why now? Yes, I feel and understand that though very late, it is better late than never. It was December 16th, the day of surrender of Pakistani army in the afternoon and the declaration of celebration, joy and happiness throughout the country. My father's house was at Road 50, Gulshan. It was about 7 p.m. in the evening when a group of young boys came to our house armed with machine guns. They demanded we give diem the car. However, my father although a very strong man, politely and calmly requested them to come in the morning when he would give them the car as per their demand.
It was very early in the morning, just at the time of "Fazr prayers," when those young men came back. Once more, my father behaved very politely and requested them to have breakfast and then go. They enjoyed the breakfast prepared by my mother. When the time came to hand over the car, my father, whom we looked upon as a man of strict discipline and principles, made the greatest error of his life. He, instead of handing over the car to those criminals, went along with them in the car. He could not imagine what their motives were at that time. On their way, at his request, the car stopped at my house at Bijoynagar at about 7 am in the morning when my family members and I were walking on the footpath and viewing the celebration and enjoyment in our area. During the war he did not have the opportunity to see us. This brought him to my place and unfortunately that was the last time I saw him. I did see those boys with arms in their hands and my father sitting in the middle. The car stopped in front of our house; he just kissed my daughter and asked whether I would be visiting Gulshan.
At around 11 am, one person who had accompanied the others in my father's car came running and conveyed the news that "Shaheb has been attacked by bullets." He then just fled from the spot and vanished.
At that moment there were no men in my father's house, and we women — my grandmother, mother, my brother's wife, my younger sister, my daughter and myself - were scared as to what unfortunate news and loss was awaiting us all.
Meanwhile my husband and his brothers returned and when they heard about the incident, they rushed out in search of my father. They returned at night with no news at all. It was a moment of great loss, unhappiness, and uncertainty.
The incident occurred on December 17,1971. It was a Friday and my father's desire was to pray "Jumma prayers" in independent Bangladesh. Unfortunately, this could never happen. After four days, with the assistance of the Indian army, our family members reached Mohammadpur (an area known as the residence of the "Biharis"). They found the car totally shattered with bullet holes, and they were all convinced that it was not possible for anyone to be alive in such a condition. However, when some of the local people working in petty shops were asked about my father, they stated that the car had been caught in crossfire and that it was attacked by bullets from all around. During those days, corpses were collected, put in trucks and taken away. No one could say anything more than this.
One issue to mention here is that during the search for the dead body, some of our relatives found some clues of my father's possessions. These were: 1) a shoe of the particular pair of shoes he wore on that day; 2) his white tupi (cap) which he always wore on his head as he had performed Hajj several times and vowed to wear it at all times. One important aspect worth mentioning is that the tupi was easily identified because it was stitched and embroidered by my mother. The saddest part was that the topi was stained with blood and his hair. And 3) his identity card, half tom. It is important to mention here that during the nine months of our Liberation War every citizen was obligated to carry his/her identity card as declaration and proof of belonging to the Muslim community.
Several guesses were made by persons known to my father as to why the car was found at that place. The only prediction that made sense was that he might have gone to visit the "Rai Bazaar" area where the intellectuals were tortured and beaten to death, among whom were his close friends, the late Professor Giasuddin Ahmed of Department of History, Dhaka University and our family physician, Dr Rob. It was natural to assume that he might have gone there to look for their grave.
It was a very pathetic, painful and tragic end that engulfed us all. It was the worst for my mother who till her death in Marchi985 never accepted or believed that my father could be lost in this way. Since 1971, she tried everything to collect news of her lost husband. Unfortunately all her efforts were in vain.
Remembering and recollecting these incidents of destruction, harm and injustice during the nine months of our war of Liberation, we would like to offer our sincere gratitude and thanks to any government that will adopt measures and take necessary steps to punish and render judgment for any acts of brutality towards anyone in society.
My father was Abdur Rahim Khan. He was the first governor of Rotary International Disrict 325 and treasurer of Dhaka University Old Boys Association. He was involved in shipping business.
The writer Is one of the Founding members of the Department of Women and Gender Studies, University of Dhaka, and presently working as Supemumery Professor In the Department.