Reminiscing about the first Victory Day

General Manekshaw's stern warning to the occupation forces through radio was being beamed around the country since the morning of December 15, 1971, asking them to surrender or face the grim consequences. The morale of the Pakistani army, fighting pitched battles here and there, was completely broken because the entire so-called East Pakistan, save Dhaka city, had already fallen to Muktibahini-Indian army joint forces.

People who had no way of fleeing from the country suffered cruel torture and lost their near and dear ones in this barbaric ethnic cleansing operation resorted to by the Pakistani army. They became euphoric at this first dawn of freedom, in spite of some uneasiness in the air. By early morning of December 16 it was almost clear that the Pakistani army would surrender. Till then the Indian jet planes were shelling the strategic places in Dhaka, mainly the Dhaka university halls and cantonment areas, where the Pakistani army had holed up.

People came out of their houses and hide-outs in different areas of the city, most of them with their portable radio sets in their hands, their ears plugged to broadcasts from the Indian radio, that was intermittently broadcasting news bulletins informing the nation about the time and venue of surrender. Hotel Inter-Continental, now called Sheraton, was first selected as the venue, but it was later shifted to Race Course Maidan, now called Suhrawardy Uddyan. Lt. General Jagjit Singh Aurora, C-in-C of Eastern Command, took the surrender of Lt.Gen. A.K. Niazi, his own batch mate in the army in pre partition days, at 3pm.

Vast crowds of people, along with Muktibahini fighters from every corner of the city, were out on the streets rejoicing and jubilant at this historic moment. Collecting in front of the Hotel Inter-Continental from the early hours of the 16th morning, unmindful of the random shooting by the vanquished and demoralised Pakistani army from here and there, people made a beeline to the hotel premises. The atmosphere was electrifying.

People in the country, especially in Dhaka city, greeted the long awaited news of victory with a sense of relief. Dhaka city streets, reverberated with the sound of machine-guns being fired by the freedom fighters in jubilation. It was as if, after nine months of birth pang, the nation was born to discover its new identity. By 11 a.m the crowd swelled, with the muktijoddhas (freedom fighters) joining them after nine months.

Totally oblivious of the hazards because of the stray shootings, enthusiastic citizens from all over the city thronged the front terrace of Inter-Continental Hotel to witness that humiliating and long awaited moment of surrender. Tears welled up in many eyes while reflecting on the fierce struggle, suffering, atrocities and deaths they had to encounter to win this freedom.

With the rejoicing going all around, an eerie situation dampened the jubilant mood of the people. Possibly with orders from their command the Pakistani troops, as I watched from the Sheraton road intersection, were marching towards the cantonment with their heads down and faces red with anger. As usual in such a situation, people long seething with rage and anger for the inhuman brutalities they suffered during these nine months were trying to insult these troops. The crack troops suddenly started firing at the crowd and at the same time an open Indian jeep driven by a brigadier, flying a white flag, followed by two convoys of troops reached the intersection.

Shooting by the Pakistani troops, positioned on the ground floor of the Sakura restaurant and its backyard, was so random and intense that the brigadier, a Shikh as evidenced by his appearance, got bewildered. After waiting for one or two minutes when he watched the situation taking a menacing turn, he ordered his troops to take position and frustrate the attacking Pakistani troops.

Even in such a melee enthusiastic and jubilant young men of my age went near the brigadier's jeep to give him an ovation. All of a sudden a stream of bullets smashed the front window pane of the brigadier's jeep. Luckily the brigadier, and some of us who were embracing as an expression of gratitude and rejoicing, survived the firing. Instructing us to go inside the Inter-Continental hotel, declared as neutral zone, the smart looking brigadier immediately went into action.

Meanwhile, apprehending trouble and damage to property and lives of the residents, the management of the hotel had closed the front gate. Many of us on that fateful morning jumped over the waist-high compound wall and took shelter in the hotel lobby. After about 30 minutes firing from both the sides stopped and the Pakistani troops again started marching towards the cantonment. When the situation calmed down we came out of the Inter-Continental hotel and saw some Pakistani soldiers lying dead in front of the Minto Road crossing, Ramna garden boundary wall and Sakura premises.

I was then an assistant professor in the dept. of physics at BUET (till then EPUET), just in my 30s, and scared of the Pak army who engaged razakars to identify young patriotic teachers to achieve their objective of cleansing. I had left my residence in the BUET campus on March 27, and was moving from one place to another with my wife and young children. What I had witnessed during these nine months still sends chill through my bones.

Precisely speaking, the occupation army was extracting a terrible vengeance because the then Pakistani masters thought that the political ambitions of the people of this wing were a direct threat to the integrity of Pakistan. And sure enough, not since Hitler has there been any thing so diabolical.As it happens in the life of every person who had lost near and dear ones during these months of brutalities, I was perturbed by the thoughts jolting me at this dawn of freedom. I was lucky to have survived the marauders' bullet shot but my eldest brother, about 48 years old in 1971, my brother-in-law, and a close friend of mine since our school days Major Mahdiuz Zaman Khan, then working at DGFI wing in Comilla cantonment, could not survive.

Major Zaman, a grand son of Moulana Md. Akram Khan, founder-editor of now-defunct Daily Azad, had a tall and well-built structure with a fair complexion. If any one had looked at him without hearing him, he would have mistaken him for a Punjabi(Pakistani). It is intriguing that they could kill a man bearing so much resemblance to them, and whose grand father was one of the pioneers of the Pakistan movement.

My eldest brother, an ex-army personnel in the second World War was taken away from his business premises at Satkhira by the hyenas in May, 1971 at the instance of the Razakars guiding the occupation army, and was never returned. We could not know how and where he was killed. Major Zaman was summoned on a plea to attend an emergency meeting in the Comilla cantonment and was shot dead, along with other Bengali officers.

While the whole country, and successive governments, remain busy in celebrating the memorable occasion year in year out, our thoughts go back to those days of atrocities and genocide carried out by the occupation forces. After my brother's killing in May, 1971, when I travelled to Satkhira to be with the bereaved family members, risking my life in the most hazardous road journey, often meeting with army interrogation at several points, I saw village after village devastated.

Now Bangladesh is a reality for three and half decades, but the country is still in a state of turmoil. Dirty politics and political maneuvering for power have taken the country to the brink of a disastrous situation. Legacy of Razakars and anti-liberation groups are ruling the politics of the day. Shockingly, the idealism, spirit and hope that inspired our leaders and freedom loving people to fight the marauding Pakistan army are fast disappearing. At this annual event of "Victory Day" the nation must redeem the pledges that people belonging to all ranks, regardless of caste and creed, made to free this country of exploitation, religious bigotry, poverty and violence of all types.

Md Asadullah Khan is a former teacher of Physics and Controller of Examination, BUET