Bullets of 71 A Freedom Fighters Story – Dr. Nuran Nabi with Mush Nabi

Bullets of 71 A Freedom Fighters Story – Dr. Nuran Nabi with Mush Nabi

Chapter 5

March, The Rebellious Month

Face to Face with the First Bullets of Genocide March 25, 1971. We were setting up barricades at the intersection of Mymensingh Road and Elephant Road. We were in front of Shahbag Hotel. It was about a quarter to midnight. A few cars traveled along Mymensingh Road, but we did not notice. We were too busy with the task at hand.

A little tired, I stood apart on the sidewalk for a while. Some cars approached the square and stopped near the fountain. People inside took notice of us. It was probably the clamor we created that struck their curiosities.

One car changed its direction from south to west. The area was half-lit, and half-dark. The headlights of the car fell brightly onto our eyes, blurring our vision. Suddenly, the headlights switched off.

There was no doubt that these were military jeeps.

Before we knew what was going on, the headlights of one jeep were switched on again. Instantly, the occupants of the jeeps opened fire on us with machineguns.

Amidst the roaring sound of machinegun fire, I jumped off the sidewalk and fell into a ditch. As I regained my senses, I ran westward. I could hear the groans of my friends hit by the bullets.

Those who managed to get up also started running. The air was filled with the cries of people and gunfire. For the first time in my life, I knew the sound of gunfire, up close and aimed directly at me.

Arguably, we were face to face with the first bullets of the Bangladesh genocide.

I tried to keep running, but I was losing my will. My legs were becoming rubbery. I felt as if I had been shot.

I was quite lucky. My cousin Khaja lived nearby on Elephant Road. He lived in a house adjacent to the railway tracks.

With my last ounce of energy, I ran to his house drenched in the filth of the ditch. As soon as I entered Khaja’s house, I checked my body for bullet-wounds. Luckily, aside from some bruises, I escaped unscathed.

After the running and the horror of the evening, my thirst had finally caught up to me. I had a seemingly unquenchable thirst. I was exhausted.

I quickly drank a tall glass of water. As the water ran against my cheeks, I realized that I was still filthy. I went to the sink and did my best to wash myself clean of the stench of raw sewage.

My heart still pounding, I found it difficult to stand. I went to the living room and stretched my body across the sofa.

Khaja was visibly frightened by the look on my face and in the way I stormed into his home. He began pressing me about what had just happened.

With a deep breath I regained my composure and started narrating the incident to Khaja.

However, before I could finish, I was interrupted by the blasting sounds of gunfire. Khaja and I tried to follow the sounds with our ears.

The sounds were coming from Dhaka University, Peelkhana, and Rajarbag. Iqbal Hall of Dhaka University was the headquarters of the Student’s Action Committee. Peelkhana was the headquarters of the East Pakistani Riffles (EPR), the border security force. Rajarbag was the police headquarters.

A few moments later, Khaja and I came out and could see fire and smoke billowing out from those exact directions.

We couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on. A mixed feeling of anxiety, fear and depression burdened me.

Had anything happened to our leader Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman? Was it just one-sided firing? Were the Bengali policemen, EPR and soldiers revolting? I had no answers.

Unfortunately, radio Dhaka and the Indian radio stations had no news of what was going on in Dhaka either.

Was the world outside aware of what was happening here? There were still flames rising. All around, there was the ceaseless thunder of intense firing. It was a living hell.

A night of terror, concern, and despair ushered in the dawn. The

firing lost its momentum in the morning hours. However, rings of smoke could still be found rising from the horizon. I fell into a daze.

What was going to happen next? What would be our future? While these thoughts raced through my mind, I grew exhausted from my sleepless night.

Finally I drifted into slumber.

March 26: A Terrorized Morning Khaja woke me up from a deep sleep. He seemed to be excited, and yet, still in a state of shock. I was perplexed and a bit confused. I could not figure out what was going on.

In a whispering voice he asked me to hide in the bathroom. A soldier was moving towards the house with a rifle in his hand. It was scary. Right away, I realized the danger we were in. In seconds, I jumped off the sofa and ran into the bathroom. A little later, I heard knocking at the door. My blood froze. I began praying to Allah.

It seems that people are most inclined to remember God in desperate moments like this. I began to wonder: Is God moved to answer the prayers of those who only choose to remember Him in times of crisis? Such thoughts crept into my head.

Khaja opened the door and greeted the soldier. A conversation followed in Urdu. I couldn’t follow the dialogue all the way from the bathroom. I ardently recited my prayers. Several moments passed without any sound. I feared that they had arrested Khaja and taken him away.

Thankfully, soon after, I heard Khaja’s voice again. Then I heard steps clanking along the staircase to the roof. I had no clue as to what was going on. I continued my prayers and kept my ears open.

Finally, Khaja had come back. He bolted the door and came close to the bathroom to say, “The danger is over, but stay in there for a little while longer”.

I’ve known Khaja to get riled up easily over petty matters, but surprisingly on this day he remained calm, composed, and careful.

A little later Khaja returned and said, “It’s safe. You can come out now. They’re gone”

I heartily thanked Allah and came out of the bathroom. I asked Khaja what had happened. Khaja then explained that five armed West Pakistani soldiers had been patrolling the streets with apprehensive steps. With their fingers clenching the triggers of their

rifles, they scanned the neighborhood.

They saw the Bangladesh flag waving over our rooftop and asked Khaja to take it down. Khaja was well versed in Urdu.

He put on the guise of a Muslim League supporter and convinced them that it was only under pressure from the students that he was forced to hoist the Bangladeshi flag,

The soldiers bought into his story and let him bring down the flag without any repercussions, and immediately left the house.

As it turned out, the soldiers were scouring the neighborhood in search of the Bengali EPR soldiers and policemen who had revolted and fled from Peelkhana Camp and the police headquarters. It dawned on me that last night, many of the Bengali policemen and EPR personnel might have been killed by the Pakistani Army.

Bangabandhu: Arrested, but Still Alive A little later, Pakistani military dictator General Yahya Khan addressed the nation over Radio Pakistan, Dhaka. Martial law had been imposed all over East Pakistan.

Khan accused Bangabandhu of anti-state activities and informed the nation of Bangabandhu’s arrest. While the news of his detention was of concern, it was a consolation knowing that he was still alive.

Nonetheless, it was only Bangabandhu, who Yahya accused of treason. He termed Bangabandhu as the sole author of “anti-state” activities.

The Pakistani military regime and its advisors thought that Bangabandhu was at the root of all evils. This idea coincided with the doctrine of General Ayub Khan, the former military dictator. The Pakistani military credo became “Annihilate Bangabandhu and his party and all will be set straight”.

However, the Bengalis had woken up. They had become engaged in the liberation struggle. They became a unified nation under the leadership of Bangabandhu – the symbol and focal point of the Bengali nation. And yet, the Pakistani rulers failed to comprehend this unequivocal truth.

Imprisoned Under Curfew March 26th. The public was confined to their homes. Tensions pulled tight through the city. The roads were completely deserted.

The shrill cries of crows heightened the nightmarish mood. Every door was bolted. Each window was clamped shut. These unsettling circumstances rekindled images from the hectic events of the past few weeks.

Since March 7th, the central government had no control or authority at all in East Pakistan. From that day on, everything moved under Bangabandhu’s directives. Admiral Ahsan, the provincial governor of East Pakistan was known as a mild tempered man. As a military ruler, he was perceived as “not tough enough”. General Tikka Khan, known as the notorious “Butcher”, replaced him. However, the government employees of Bangladesh ignored Tikka Khan’s authority as well. They continued to support the non-cooperation movement declared by Bangabandhu.

Yahya Khan arrived in Dhaka on March 15th for a dialogue with Bangabandhu. Bhutto and other West Pakistani leaders followed him. Bangabandhu set forth his uncompromising demands: drafting a constitution on the basis of the Six-Point Charter, transferring of power to him, and the withdrawal of military rule.

Rumors spread throughout Dhaka. One such rumor was that Yahya was merely biding his time in order to stockpile military material and reinforcements in preparation for a crushing attack on the Bengalis.

On the other hand, contrary rumors suggested that Yahya would hand-over power to Bangabandhu. Those days were filled with anxiety and expectations.

Every evening we visited Iqbal Hall. The Independent Bangladesh Students Action Committee had its office at Iqbal Hall. There we received information from student leaders regarding various developments. They instructed us on what to do next.

March 23rd. It was the national day of Pakistan. Typically, Pakistani flags would be hoisted from every corner of the country.

However, Bangabandhu had a different plan. He gave the call to observe March 23rd as Resistance Day. On this day, there were no Pakistani flags in sight. Pakistani flags were hoisted only at the Governor’s house and the establishments within the cantonment.

However, this was not to say that flags were not proudly brandished atop each and every building. In fact, there were two types of flags seen throughout Bangladesh. The first was the black flag of mourning, commemorating those who gave their lives for the Bangladesh Liberation Movement. The second was a flag of deep red

and green. These were the flags of the new nation of Bangladesh.

The Student League formally hoisted the Bangladeshi flag in a meeting at Paltan Maidan, while the national anthem of Bangladesh was sung. They went to Bangabandhu’s residence and gave him a formal guard of honor and hoisted a Bangladeshi flag at his residence. Crowds were seen spontaneously marching through the streets with sticks clenched in their hands. Some were even armed with rifles and guns.

Yahya Khan was due to address the nation over the radio. This led many to think that a political settlement might have been reached. Instead, Pakistani soldiers opened fire on rallies in Rangpur and Chittagong, Bangabandhu reacted to such atrocities fiercely, and in protest, called for a strike throughout the country on March 24th.

As the next day approached, tension and fear gripped the nation. Uncertainty hung over the outcome of dialogue between Bangabandhu and the military junta.

Sometime in the evening, I had a talk with Abdul Quddus Makhon, a leader of the Students Action Committee and came to know that the dialogue had failed. This made me quite apprehensive.

At around at 8:00 pm, my fellow student activists, Amin and Habibullah, accompanied me to Iqbal Hall as usual. However, this evening was much different than most.

The student office was empty. Typically the office was bustling with many student leaders and activists. Chisti, a die-hard student activist informed us that the dialogue had failed.

Tonight, the army was preparing to crack down on Dhaka. We needed to set up barricades on various roads to prevent them from making their move into the city.

The leaders of the slums adjacent to Mohsin Hall and Jinnah Hall would provide some fifty activists. They assisted us in constructing barricades at the Shahbag Hotel intersection.

It was this group, our group, who faced the first bullets of the Bangladesh genocide in front of Shahbag Hotel

Radio News

The rest of March 26th was marked with uncertainty and concerns. Khaja and I spent another sleepless night. At noon, we came to know from Akashvani, the Indian Radio station, that the Pakistani

military junta had committed genocide throughout Dhaka. Many of the teachers and students of Dhaka University were murdered in cold blood.

The Indian radio further reported that Pakistani soldiers attacked Bengali personnel from EPR and the police department. The Bengali EPR and police personnel were attacked at their headquarters in the middle of the night while they were still asleep, In response, Bengalis had revolted from their respective positions at Peelkhana and Rajarbag. Many of them fought to their deaths. The rest were unable to put up a strong enough resistance and fled from the barracks.

Since the army was on patrol, I tuned into Akashvani, BBC, and the Voice of America and listened at a very low volume. The news of the killings and massacres gradually poured in through the radio. This was the beginning of genocide.

My tension and restlessness started to intensify. What was going on? How were my friends? Where were the Awami League leaders now? Had they been arrested? Could they flee Dhaka? Could a resistance be organized?

I was enraged and grew restless. Meanwhile, Khaja recited the Koran and steadily said his prayers.

Corpses and Ruins Everywhere On the 27th of March, the curfew was lifted for two hours. Khaja went out to investigate the condition of his office in Old Dhaka. I went towards New Market along Elephant Road. On the streets, frightened people ran frantically in every direction. It wasn’t clear where they were headed, but anxiety and fear were visible on their faces.

The flea market that once stood next to New Market was now burnt to ashes. The smoke still billowed out from under the ruins.

As I moved on, I confronted a more terrifying spectacle. It was unimaginable. Corpses were scattered in front of the shops. They dangled from rickshaws, carts, and blanketed the pavement.

It took me a while to come to grips with what had happened. As I regained my senses, I joined the procession of human bodies running in panic.

As I hysterically ran through the streets, I came across the slums adjacent to Iqbal Hall. They too, had been turned to ashes.

Next I entered the hall compound. The carnage of last night’s gunfire was present everywhere. I could see one or two individuals inside. I had no idea what they could have been doing inside. Nonetheless, I didn’t wait to find out. I went on my way.

While on the way towards Salimullah Muslim Hall (S. M. Hall), I found several corpses lying in a row on the pavement of Iqbal Hall. It seemed as if they were neatly positioned, side-by-side, like the keys of a piano. I presume they must have been killed elsewhere and had been placed there for a reason.

Getting closer, I realized that I could identify one of the bodies. It was Chisti Helalur Rahman, the die-hard activist of the Students League. He was dressed in trousers and just a tank top. I couldn’t bear to get any closer to his lifeless body. Not that I was scared, but rather, my senses had escaped me. Without any tinge of emotion, it was as if I was watching these horrifying images through a slowmotion lens.

Eventually, others who came to see the corpses joined me. It was time that I moved on.

Chisti’s image haunted me. Only some 36 hours ago, this patriotic young man asked me to construct the barricade. Now he was nothing more than a dead body. He was the first martyr of our liberation war, at least amongst the people that I knew.

He was engulfed in the dream of a librated motherland. The idea pumped through his veins. A young man from Bogra, Chisti chanted passionate slogans, which inspired others. Chisti, Aftab, Mahbub, Rabiul, Mumtaz, Nazrul and other student activists were famous slogan artists. They were specialists in firing up rallies and marches with their thunderous slogans. But Chisti’s voice was now silenced forever.

I walked towards Shahid Minar (Language Movement Martyr’s Monument) passing S. M. Hall. However, Chisti’s memory was still in my head.

Shahid Minar and the Marks of Blood Shahid Minar was crushed to dust by the military junta. This symbol of Bengali nationalism was subjected to the wrath of the Pakistani military. I was awfully shaken, so much so, that I did not feel any anger.

Originally, I had planned to go to Fazlul Huq Hall to find out

what had happened to my friends. But this scene at Shahid Minar exhausted my strength.

I changed my plans and decided to go back to Khaja’s house. Turning left, I walked between the Science Annex Building and the University Medical Center. I took a shortcut through Jagannath Hall and came near Rokeya Hall.

People were shuffling along the streets as fast as they could. While a few rickshaws were still in operation, there were no private cars on the road. Frightened, the people were fleeing.

I passed Rokeya Hall and the University Library, and then moved on towards Shahbag Hotel. At that time, I did not know that the Pakistani Army had also committed a massacre at Rokeya and Jagannath Halls.

I could see some military convoys near the hotel. Later, I came to know that they were there to seize the radio station. Ironically, this was the same platoon that had attacked us on the night of the 25th.

I made a left towards Elephant Road. I took a look at where we had constructed the barricade just two nights ago. It was all gone now. As I stood there, an army officer yelled at me from a passing jeep. They were not letting anyone stand idle. We were all asked to move quickly

Despite his orders, I took a moment to carefully look for any signs of blood. And yes, in still pools, the sacred blood of those martyrs painted the roads crimson. Though, I knew not all of their names, the blood that had spilled was the blood of my fellow comrades.

While walking along, I glanced at the ditch I had jumped into on that fateful night. In broad daylight, the scene had become much more visible. Everything became more real. The filthiness of the ditch was indescribable.

The two-hour break in curfew was almost over. I returned quickly. Khaja too, had returned. He shared with me what he had learned of the brutality of the Pakistani soldiers in Old Dhaka.

Refugee in Jinjira Khaja decided it was no longer safe to stay at his house. He had talked things over with his business partner and had arranged for us to stay in Jinjira from the next day on.

The curfew was lifted on March 28th. We headed out to move to Jinjira, which was just across the Buriganga River. Despite, having

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lived in Dhaka since 1967, I had never actually been to this older side of the city. We took a rickshaw for part of the journey. We then traveled by foot the rest of the way.

As we walked, I looked around and thought to myself, “This would be a good place for guerilla warfare” I recollected my encounter with a guerilla-warfare trainer back in early March at Raju Ahmed’s home. He had told us about the Russian resistance against the Nazis to protect Leningrad.

The zigzagging narrow lanes and dark alleys of old Dhaka were very tricky. The Pakistani military would never be able to navigate through such a place. I don’t know why, but my mind became flooded with fantasies of counterattacks against the Pakistani Army.

We found the Pakistani soldiers patrolling at Sadarghat Ferry Station. As a precautionary measure, we changed our plans and avoided the military. We headed further west where we hired a small boat and crossed the river.

We reached Khaja’s friend’s house across the Buriganga River in Jinjira. He had been living in Dhaka for a long time. As a staunch supporter of Bangabandhu and the Awami League, he was very happy to see us.

“Stay here as long as you wish”, he told us.

There were already, some ten to fifteen refugees taking shelter in his home. Most of these refugees were residents of Old Dhaka city who fled their homes because they no longer felt safe. They shared with us the atrocities committed by the Pakistani military in their part of the city.

In spite of the grim setting, I enjoyed listening to the richness of the Old Dhaka city-accent, the subtle intricacies with which they told their stories, and the dry humor for which they were well known. The company of the other refugees eased my burden a bit.

Announcement of Independence Arriving at Jinjira we heard something very significant. A Major by the name of Zia had read an announcement proclaiming the independence of Bangladesh in the name of Bangabandhu on March 27th over Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra (Free Bangla Radio) from Chittagong. When the broadcast was repeated, I heard the announcement for myself.

Major Zia had asked the nations of the world to recognize

independent Bangladesh. Bangabandhu was safe. The people of the country were putting up a strong resistance against the Pakistani Army.

This information reminded me of an earlier event. On March 19th, a historic incident took place in Joydebpur Cantonment on the outskirts of Dhaka. The Pakistani military authority ordered the East Bengal Regiment in Joydebpur garrison to disarm.

However, the Bengali soldiers and their officers refused to lay down their arms and fought against the West Pakistani Army.

It was the first open rebellion by the Bengali soldiers against the West Pakistani military. It was the first armed resistance by the Bengali people.

Nevertheless, I was enthused by Zia’s announcement. I felt inspired knowing that Bengali soldiers were proceeding towards Dhaka from Chittagong and Comilla.

Everybody in the house was tuned into Zia’s announcement and the news bulletins from Free Bangla Radio.

My fellow refugees then asked me what I was going to do next. From their questions I realized that Khaja had exaggerated my stature.

I decided on my next course of action. I told Khaja that I would leave Jinjira to join the fighters in the free zones of Comilla and Chittagong.

I inquired whether anyone could guide me to my destination. Someone enthusiastically volunteered. The plan was to go to Agartala, a town on the other side of the Indian border. We would have to travel on foot and by boat.

I was excited, but Khaja objected. He didn’t object to my joining the liberation war. Rather, he insisted that I get my father’s consent.

Khaja’s suggestion required a visit to my parent’s home in Tangail. I was a loving son. My father regarded me as the source of the family’s pride and dreamed that one day I would become a minister or a well-respected bureaucrat. Khaja was not ready to shoulder any responsibility if anything happened to me in combat.

Rumors spread that the Pakistani Army would attack Jinjira in search of fleeing Bengali EPR and police personnel from Peelkhana and Rajarbag. Everyone was frightened.

The Pakistani military raided Jinjira that very night. Luckily, they were still quite a distance from our location. Nonetheless, they could attack any day. Jinjira was no longer safe.

We returned to Dhaka the next day, on March 29th.

The question I had to ask myself was – where would I go from here.

The Road Home I came to know that the Dhaka-Tangail buses were in operation. I proceeded towards Gulistan bus terminal.

Khaja saw me off as I boarded the bus. It was over-crowded. There was no place to sit. I had no choice, so I continued standing.

My fellow passengers all looked awfully tense and terrified. Everyone was silent. People were fleeing with whatever they could carry in hand. This was the pervasive scene on the road. Many of them were moving out with their family members.

In those days, buses to Tangail passed through the cantonment. However, on this day, as the bus approached the cantonment, the soldiers told the driver that the buses were no longer allowed. We had to take a different route.

As the driver made a u-turn, he accidentally got the bus caught on the road divider. It could have been that the driver was a novice. It could have also been that he was just terribly frightened. Regardless, the soldiers became suspicious.

They came over and asked everyone to get down. While we all stood in a row, we prayed to Allah for our lives. After the experiences of the last few days, we were all genuinely horrified. Even the young children began to cry.

The soldiers were particularly scrutinizing the male passengers. They then picked out four individuals who appeared to be stout and strong. I was overlooked, perhaps, because of my small physique.

Thankfully, the rest of us were asked to get onto the bus. Of the four, one of them was traveling with his wife and children. They cried aloud. They refused to get onto the bus without him.

Pain struck deep into the hearts of the passengers. But alas, we were helpless. The sharp knife of death was at everyone’s throat. The bus returned towards Gulistan. The four unfortunate souls were left behind.

Only Allah knows what happened to those fellows.

I asked the driver to move towards Aricha through Mirpur. He was so frightened that my words didn’t even reach his ears.

We returned to Gulistan. I boarded an Aricha-bound bus. We

were all petrified as the bus pulled near Mirpur Bridge. The army might also be stationed at this point. It occurred to me that we might not be able to leave Dhaka.

Fortunately, there was no military post or presence at Mirpur Bridge. The bus driver pressed down hard on the gas pedal as we crossed the bridge. We were all relieved. We were finally out of Dhaka city limits. We had all gained a new lease on life.

We crossed Jahangirnagar University. I got off the bus at Nabinagar Cross Road, which connected to a road to Tangail.

The Caravan More than a hundred families were waiting at Nabinagar to go to Tangail. However, no transportation was available. I waited for half an hour.

Then a local leader appeared to inform us that there would be no transportation arriving for us here. He told us that if we could walk down to Tangail Road, we might be able to find some means of transportation. We all walked towards Tangail Road.

I had no luggage with me. I only had fifty takas in my pocket, which Khaja had given me before I left. I was walking quickly.

A large procession formed. The women and children found it a little difficult to walk. Some people had been carrying more than one bag. Many of them probably had never walked such a distance before. It was about ten miles, but it felt like a never-ending march.

To protect life, honor, and dignity, we all fled Dhaka to escape the grasp of the Pakistani military beast.

I was walking with a family. They had left their home at Dhanmondi behind. Their new destination was Jamalpur. The head of the family was a public servant. He was carrying his young son in his arms. His wife was carrying a couple of bags. Their daughter would have been about 15 or 16. She was also carrying two bags. I volunteered to take a bag from the mother. She thanked me, but refused.

“It is not too difficult,” she said, “but if you could carry my child that would give my husband a much needed break.”

I gladly obliged. It took us four hours to reach Tangail Road.

Free Tangail

The buses were at Tangail Road as we expected. Here, we came to know that Bangabandhu had formally proclaimed the independence of Bangladesh before his arrest by the Pakistani Army on the night of March 25th.

Bangabandhu’s proclamation message was distributed by the EPR wireless system to all the cities in Bangladesh.

But to me, Bangabandhu proclaimed the independence of Bangladesh on March 7th at Ramna Race Course (now Suhrawardy Park) when he declared “…the Struggle this time is a struggle for Independence..”.

The Free Bangladesh Liberation Council of Tangail had propagated Bangabandhu’s proclamation of independence in Tangail by announcing his message through loud speakers and distributing leaflets. They arranged buses for the people fleeing Dhaka.

Everyone was eager to know what was happening in Dhaka. We all gave our stories. We came to know more about the Liberation Council of Tangail. Abdul Latif Siddiqui, a member of the Provincial Assembly had been elected chairman of the council and Khandoker Asaduzzaman, a senior civil servant was the advisor.

We further came to know that the Bengali soldiers, under the leadership of Major Shafiullah, left Joydebpur garrison and were organizing a war of resistance. Moreover, the people of Tangail were planning to arrest the Pakistani soldiers stationed in Tangail. These stories and the formation of the Liberation Council in Tangail inspired me. I felt stronger.

My plan was not to stop in Tangail, but rather, to go straight to my parent’s house. Everyone at home was anxious to see me. I took the bus towards Mymensingh en route to Gopalpur. From there, I still had a five-mile walk ahead of me. When I finally reached my Khamarpara home, it was quite late at night.

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Chapter 6

Resistance

The Formation of the Bangladesh Government My father, my older brother, and others were delighted to have me back at home. My father had asked me to come home after the university closed down on March ist.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been in touch with him since. My family had become extremely worried ever since they heard about the military crackdown on the university during the early hours of March 26th.

It was just a few months ago that we had lost my mother to cancer. Had she been alive, undoubtedly she would have been worried-sick about me.

The news of my arrival spread throughout the region. Herds of people from neighboring villages came to see me. They wished to be updated on the escalating situation in Dhaka.

Inquisitively, they all asked the same questions, “What was going to happen next? Would we languish as the slaves of Pakistan? Would we ever be free? They were all anxious to know.

On April 1oth, news of the formation of the Bangladesh government was broadcasted over Free Bangla Radio. A government body was formed in exile in India.

On the 11th, Tajuddin Ahmad, the General Secretary of the Awami League and leader of the exiled Bangladesh government, addressed the nation and asked Bengalis to join the liberation war to fight Pakistan.

He briefed us on the state of the liberation war. His words inspired hope in us all. Tajuddin had answered all of our questions.

The Battle of Kalihati

On the morning of April 13th, we heard fierce blasts of mortar shells coming from the south. News came in that Pakistani forces had already taken over the towns of Tangail and Mymensingh. The Bengali soldiers, EPR forces, the police and freedom fighters tried to put up a resistance. Unfortunately, they were unsuccessful and were forced to retreat towards the Indian border.

Suddenly, I became increasingly more curious about the sound of firing from the south. I became intrigued.

I talked to my cousin Latif. He was a student of Ananda Mohan College. Together, we planned to go and find out more about the firing. However, other young men such as my cousins Hasmat, Kajim, and Manju, and Jainal, a local bank employee decided to join us as well.

Four school students named Mohan, Makhan, Jyotsna and Shahjahan, and Mr. Farhad Ali, an elderly man also joined our group.

We all proceeded south. As we got closer, the sound of gunfire became more intense. By noon, we had heard that the EPR forces had put up a resistance against the Pakistan Army in Kalihati. Abdul Latif Siddiqui, the member of the Provincial Assembly was leading the resistance.

Earlier that morning, the firing began near the Kalihati Bridge. Now, it was evident to us that the fighting had moved north to Ghatail. We decided not to travel any farther and stopped at Garjana.

The villagers at Garjana informed us that the EPR force could not hold its position against the strong offensive of the Pakistani Army. They were forced to flee and dispersed in various directions.

A few minutes later, we saw a Pakistani helicopter land at Ghatail police station. This confirmed our fear that in addition to Kalihati, Ghatail Police Station had fallen to the enemy, as well.

We had traveled a long distance, only to receive this terrible news. We were all heartbroken.

It was almost evening. We headed back north towards our village. After having traveled fifteen miles on foot, we had become very tired and hungry. We decided to take a break and spend the night at a friend’s house.

The next day we returned home. We were received with the furious eyes of my father and others. My father scolded that it

was wrong of me to take the others. All of my uncles were livid that I took their sons with me and made them spend the night away from home.

The Provisional Government of Independent Bangladesh On April 17th, Free Bangla Radio broadcasted the swearing-in ceremony of the provisional government of Independent Bangladesh. The inauguration ceremony was held in Mujibnagar, in the liberated area of Kushtia, just outside the Indian border.

Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was elected President of independent Bangladesh. Since he was imprisoned in Pakistan, Syed Nazrul Islam was elected the acting-President. Tajuddin Ahmed was elected Prime Minister, while the other ministers were Captain Muhammad Mansur Ali, Abul Hasnat Muhammad Qamaruzzaman, and Khondokar Mushtaque Ahmed.

This proclamation marked a new chapter in Bangladesh liberation history. It was an exciting moment for us.

In those days, we ardently listened to news bulletins from foreign radio stations such as, Akashvani, the BBC, and the Voice of America. Free Bangla Radio was broadcasted every evening.

Many households had their own transistor radios, but usually some twenty-five to thirty people would assemble at our compound to listen to the broadcast together.

After the broadcast, we would all discuss the situation till midnight, before going to sleep. I usually spent my day playing cards and chess with my cousins, Latif, Hasmat, and Kajim.

My Comrade, Habibullah One afternoon, while playing cards, Mohan came running in to say, “Look who has come”. As I looked outside, I saw Habibullah, my dear friend and fellow activist from Fazlul Huq Hall at Dhaka University

I jumped up and gave him a bear hug. I was both amazed and excited.

The last time we were together was on the evening of March 25th. While we were constructing the barricades in front of the Shahbag Hotel, we had become separated trying to save our lives from the shower of Pakistani bullets. Until now, I hadn’t been sure if he had survived that evening.

After lunch, Habibullah told us of his horrifying experience. On that very evening when the Pakistani Army started firing, he fled and ran back to Fazlul Huq Hall. The firing went on throughout the night. The Pakistani armed forces went on with their carnage at Iqbal Hall, Jagannath Hall, Rokeya Hall, and then entered Dhaka Hall by morning

Once in Dhaka Hall, they killed Prof. Khan Khadem, a teacher in the physics department and a large number of students and employees of the hall.

They then invaded Fazlul Huq Hall, which was adjacent to Dhaka Hall. Habibullah along with some twenty-five activists of the noncooperation movement were still inside the hall. They could smell the impending danger. They divided themselves up into several groups and went into hiding.

There was a West Pakistani guard who had been working at Fazlul Huq Hall for many years. The Pakistani soldiers asked him to open the hall gates and lead them to the students. He swore in the name of Allah that there were no residents inside the hall. He told them that the few who had been there had left the hall the previous evening. The Pakistani soldiers believed their fellow West Pakistani and left the premises.

The humanity of this West Pakistani Pathan guard, and above all, the will of God, saved the lives of these twenty-five students, including that of my good friend, Habibullah.

Habibullah hailed from Netrokona, a town in the Mymensingh District. He could not find any means of transportation to Netrokona from Dhaka, so he decided to head home through Tangail.

Although he knew I was from Tangail, Tangail was a large district with eight counties. He wasn’t sure exactly where about Tangail I was from

It was completely coincidental that he ran into a man in Tangail town, who told him that I lived in a village in Gopalpur. I was really glad to see him.

The three of us, Latif, Habibullah, and I decided that we would go to India to join the liberation forces. However, my father raised an important point. Habibullah should not leave for India directly from our place. He should first go to his parents and seek their approval first. Habibullah agreed.

He rested up for a week and then prepared to leave for

Netrokona. By then all the towns and local police headquarters had been taken over by Pakistani forces.

Habibullah was healthy and stout. It would be easy for Pakistani soldiers to suspect him as a Bengali member of the armed forces. So traveling by bus and walking through towns were out of the question.

He decided that he would have to walk through the rural areas. This path would take him about eight to ten days to reach Netrokona. Nonetheless, it was the only way to be safe.

On the day Habibullah was supposed to leave, a family from Pabna stopped by our home. They were on their way from Sirajganj to Netrokona.

The family consisted of a young public servant, his wife and a 2year old daughter. They told us about what had happened in Pabna and Sirajganj. The Sub-Divisional Officer (SDO) of Sirajganj mobilized a Bengali resistance against the Pakistani forces with a display of extraordinary courage.

However, he was forced to withdraw in the face of a massive air raid. Once again, the Bengali forces fled towards the Indian border and the two towns fell into the enemy’s hands.

The SDO of Sirajganj was a courageous and handsome young man. He retreated to the border, along with his forces.

One of the SDO’s relatives was a high-ranking Bengali civil servant, who was pro-Pakistani. The civil servant convinced the SDO to return to his job and assured him that he would make sure that nothing would happen to him.

Buying into his story, the SDO trusted his relative and returned to his job. Immediately, the young SDO was captured and taken to Dhaka Cantonment. It was there, where he was mercilessly tortured day-after-day until finally his flesh-torn body fell dead to the floor.

This SDO of Sirajganj was one of many Bengali officers who was tortured and killed in the custody of the Pakistani Army.

After listening to their disheartening tale, we served the public servant and his family lunch. We suggested to the family that they stay with us for a few days before continuing the rest of their journey.

They politely declined and left with Habibullah for Netrokona. Latif and I escorted them across the Tangail-Madhupur Highway towards the Madhupur Forest.

The Way to India

Latif and I decided that we would head to India in early May. We were trying to determine the best way to get across the border. In the first week of May, Imam, paid us an unexpected visit. Imam was the husband of Sufia, Latifs sister. Sufia was staying with us. Imam was working as a member of the EPR in Halishahar, Chittagong.

However, since March 25th, no one knew of his whereabouts. We had heard of a battle in Halishahar between the EPR and Pakistani military forces. We were all worried. Sufia spent many sleepless nights crying and praying for her husband. Now, with Imam’s arrival, our home was filled with happiness and relief.

Imam told us about what he had been through in Chittagong, The members of the EPR, the East Bengal Regiment, and the police had each put up a fierce resistance. Halishahar was the EPR headquarters. The EPR’s initial strike against the Pakistani forces was successful. However, the EPR, grossly under-armed, was forced to retreat against a superior military strength.

Imam went on to tell us that many members of the EPR, East Bengal Regiment, and the police had regrouped. They had engaged in a battle against Pakistani forces in the territories closest to the border. He himself became detached from his platoon and never made it across the border. So he returned to Tangail. He came partly by boat and partly on foot. His journey took him almost a month.

We told Imam that we planned to go to India. He was happy to hear the news and volunteered to accompany us. Regardless, he knew that his wife Sufia would require some convincing. For that he asked us to give him a week or two. We postponed our plan accordingly.

We set out for India on a sunny morning in mid-May. Sufia and Latif’s mother wept bitterly as they said good-bye to Imam and Latif. There was nobody to weep for me. However, I could see my aunt wiping her tears. My father and older brother embraced me to say that God would protect me.

As we left from the southern exit of our home, we headed north to the public road. There, we passed the courtyard on the right side of our property. It was from this spot that my mother used to watch me when I left for school. But on this day, as I turned to the courtyard I could only see my aunts and Sufia standing under the tree. I missed my mother. I wished she could have been there to see me off.

In the past, when I would leave home, first for Ananda Mohan College and then later for Dhaka University, my mother would stand under the tree for as long as she could see me. I wondered whether she would have allowed me to leave for India if she were still alive.

During the liberation movement of 1969, the Pakistani Army killed Asad, a student leader near Dhaka University. When my mother got wind that a student was killed in Dhaka, she became terribly upset as her eyes filled with tears. It was only after she heard Asad’s name over the radio that she settled down and stopped crying. News of any incident in Dhaka would upset my mother.

Nonetheless, on this day, her memory haunted me. I missed her very much. I struggled to hold in my tears, but failed. I walked quickly ahead of Imam and Latif to keep them from seeing my eyes. Throughout our walk, I didn’t say a word to them. Imam was trying to tease me, “Hey leader, you aren’t getting scared, are you? You aren’t chickening-out about joining the war?”

I couldn’t tell them what was really on my mind.

We spent the night at Imam’s place. The next morning we moved north toward Jamalpur. We spent the whole day walking along the coastal areas of the Jamuna River and reached a small village on the west side of Islampur. We needed to find a village that had accommodations for guests. Finally we found one.

The residents of the house greeted us warmly. I have long since forgotten the name of the village, but I remember it was within the constituency of Rashed Musharraf, a member of the Parliament.

We disclosed to the family our plan to cross over to India after dinner. At that time, a bank official working in Jamalpur town was staying in the village. He was one of thousands of Bengali civil servants who remained on-strike in support of the non-cooperation movement. He informed us that two days ago, a group of young men were arrested while trying to cross the border to India.

Apparently, this route was not as safe as we had hoped. This was disappointing. We decided that we would go back to Tangail in the morning and explore an alternate route.

After dinner, we gossiped with the residents of the house. Then as we were preparing to go to sleep, a young boy brought a note for us and said, “Read it, it has been sent by my Apa (older sister).” I unfolded the note and read the message. A student of Mymensingh Girls College had written it. She was an activist of the Student Union. Since the college had been closed for the non-cooperation

movement, she had been staying at her village home.

The message confirmed the earlier story of the group arrested by Pakistani forces. However, it also identified a village leader who conspired in the arrest. He was pro-Pakistani. The message further warned that a follower of that man had been spying on us! The girl cautioned that we might be in grave danger. Therefore, she had requested that we leave the village right away.

This piece of paper impacted me in two ways. I came to understand and appreciate the patriotic sentiments of a young woman. However, the presence of a pro-Pakistani village leader angered me greatly.

I showed the message to Imam and Latif. A resident of the house was still with us, making it difficult to discuss the matter openly. However, reading their faces I could tell they were eager to know our next move. At this point we all knew we could not afford to trust anyone.

We thanked our hosts for their hospitality and mentioned that we’d be heading for the border now. At the stroke of midnight we left the house. Immediately we began discussing the contents of the letter. Latif and Imam agreed with me. Crossing the border tonight was too risky with a spy on our heels. We decided to backtrack and started walking southward to Tangail District.

It was a very dark night. We had no flashlight. We couldn’t even see the ground on which we walked. It was becoming impossible to move. Finally, after walking for about four hours, we gave up. We were so tired that we needed to look for a place to sleep. Most of the dwellings in this costal area were just one-room shacks. However, we would need to find a place with some sort of guest quarters. Once again, we got lucky.

The night was coming to an end. Very carefully, we awoke the head of the family. We apologized for bothering him and sought his permission to spend the rest of the night in his guest quarters. He happily agreed. However, the guest quarters were actually a oneroom shed for his cows. In the corner of the room was a small cot. Nonetheless, we were so tired that we had no trouble sleeping alongside the cows!

At about ten in the morning, our host served us some Chatu (fried wheat powder), salt and water for breakfast. We needed to walk the whole day along the coastal belt and realized that food might be a rare thing to find. So we gratefully accepted his

hospitality and ate whatever he could offer. With our stomachs full, we continued our journey.

We did not come home directly. Rather, we stayed at Imam’s place for a week. When we finally returned, we noticed that not everyone was pleased with our presence.

The Formation of the Freedom Fighters Group By then, Pakistani occupation forces had deployed the Pakistani militia and armed forces in every police station in Tangail District. They had started organizing “Peace Committees” and Razakar groups to support Pakistani forces. Razakars were local pro-Pakistani armed militias. They consisted of members from the Jamaat-e-Islami and the Muslim League, two pro-Pakistani political parties.

Under these circumstances, it was unsafe for a family to house one EPR member and two student activists. The three of us had no choice, but to split up. My father arranged a hideout for me. Imam went back to his parent’s home, while Latif went to another relative’s place to stay. I went to Chargovindabasi, Bhuapur to stay with my older brother’s in-laws.

Two days later, on June 2nd, Shamsu, a student of Bhuapur College came to see me. I told him of my plan to join the liberation forces. Shamsu reported that Anwar-ul Alam Shaheed, general secretary of S. M. Hall Student Union was hiding in the neighboring village. I knew him very well at Dhaka University. I asked Shamsu to arrange a meeting with Shaheed.

The next day, Shamsu and I went to the home of Aziz Bangal, another student of Bhuapur College. There I met Shaheed and told him of my plan to join the liberation forces. Shaheed told me that Enayet Karim; president of the Tangail District Student League had also been living underground in a nearby village. Shaheed and I decided to form a group of Mukti Bahini, freedom fighters. I returned to my hideout at Chargovindabasi.

After two days, Shamsu came back to see me. He told me that two more student leaders, namely Sohrab Ali Khan Arzoo and Mohammad Suhrawardi had been hiding in the neighboring village and wanted to see me. They also wanted to form a Mukti Bahini group. Shamsu had mentioned my name to them. They immediately showed their interest in me.

I went to see them right away. They told me that they had

gathered some arms left behind by the EPR after the Battle of Kalihati. If we could recruit a dozen policemen, EPR, and Bengal Regiment soldiers, and student activists, we could form a group of freedom fighters. The proposal was quite encouraging. I told them about Imam and a couple of soldiers who had left the EPR. I promised to contact them.

It was decided that on June 18th, some Bengali members of the army, EPR, and police would assemble with their weapons in a village on the west side of Bhuapur. I left for home to prepare.

At this point, Latif had already returned. I had sent a message for Imam. Latif and I went to a village named Banni to meet a policeman, and then to two other villages to meet two soldiers. We requested that they join the liberation forces. It was only in April that these three had last fought against the Pakistanis. They had since withdrawn to their villages in defeat. They questioned whether we had the firepower and ammunition to face the Pakistani military force. We told them about our dozen “303 Rifles”. But apparently, that wasn’t enough to convince them. The three men did not join us. We came back disappointed.

Imam returned to our place. Imam and I left for Bhuapur to join Arzoo and Suharawardi. Latif did not join us on that day, but a few months later he joined the Mukti Bahini as well.

On June 18th, we met Arzoo and Suhrawardi in a village on the west of Bhuapur. There were about twenty people, but only a dozen rifles. Habibur Rahman, an army soldier was present. Three student activists, Mati, Smriti, and Kalam came from Tangail town. We decided that the military training must begin immediately. Habibur Rahman was appointed our trainer, while Imam was selected as his assistant

The next day, some more men joined our group. I told them of my failed mission regarding the three individuals who declined our invitation. Habibur underlined the urgent need for army personnel. If they knew that Habibur was working with this group, they might change their minds and join us. I was asked to visit them again.

Training went enthusiastically on the first day. Before we knew it, we were an organized camp of liberation forces. Sentries were deployed on regular shifts around the camp. The next day, we had even more recruits.

To facilitate the recruitment of those three individuals, I returned home on June 22. I would meet them the next day.

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It was the morning of June 23rd. As I was leaving my house to make my visits, eight strangers arrived at the front courtyard. I was a little surprised. The men were dressed in lungis and robed in shawls. It was summertime, so the shawls looked suspicious. They said that they were here to see me. As they took off their shawls, I saw that each was armed with a Sten gun. They were freedom fighters.

They had just received training in India. Their first mission was to blow up the bridges on Dhaka-Tangail Highway and TangailMadhupur Highway. It was expected that with the destruction of the bridges, the mobility of the Pakistani forces would be restricted and their morale would be left in the rubble.

After arriving to the area, they had heard of my activities, which prompted them to come to see me. Lutfor Rahman of Sharishabari was their leader. The freedom fighters whose names I remember were Tuku, Rakib, Foyez and Badal. With the exception of Lutfor Rahman, who was a businessman, the others were students from different colleges and schools in the Jamalpur District.

They had arrived at Lutfor’s place from Mankachar, India by boat. The freedom fighters carried with them Light Machineguns (LMGs), Sten guns, and explosives. They had left the ammunition at Sharishabari and came to seek my help in getting the support of the local people.

I was extremely pleased to see them. I told them of my activities over the last few weeks and assured them that I would help. They were encouraged by my accounts.

I arranged for their breakfast. Then quickly, I led them to our camp at Bhuapur. We were a team of nine freedom fighters, eight of us armed with automatic weapons. Every onlooker, young and old, was excited by our presence.

It was nearly mid-day when we reached camp. However, to my surprise, no one was there. The landlord informed us that our Mukti Bahini group had gone to Bhuapur Bazaar to join another Mukti Bahini group led by Kader Siddiqui. We wasted no time and headed straight to Bhuapur.

We arrived at Bhuapur by early afternoon. For us, Bhuapur presented an exciting scenario. Freedom fighters were on guard at every point of entry to Bhuapur Bazaar. A group of guards halted us. We disclosed our identities and then were escorted to Bhuapur Bungalow. Freedom fighters in proper uniforms with LMGs and 303

Rifles were everywhere. It was an unforgettable experience.

Stepping toward the bungalow, I wondered if I knew this commander of freedom fighters, this Kader Siddiqui. Could he be the younger brother of Latif Siddiqui? Was he the same Kader Siddiqui who was once the general secretary of the Tangail Student League?

I recalled that in 1970, during the central conference of the Student League at Dhaka, arrangements were made for the delegates of Tangail to take their mid-day rest at Fazlul Huq Hall. At that time Kader and others came to my dorm-room to rest. I recalled meeting him again in Tangail on another trip returning home from Dhaka. I had been wishfully thinking that this Mukti Bahini commander would be the same man I had known.

My presumption was correct. I saw Kader sitting on a chair in the balcony. He had changed a lot since I last saw him. He had grown his hair and beard. He was wearing a military uniform with a pistol bound to his waist. A freedom fighter introduced me to him. I mentioned to him that we had met before at Fazlul Huq Hall. Then I introduced my companions and explained why they had come to our area. While discussing these matters, I expressed my joy and excitement to meet the freedom fighters under his command. I immediately stated my desire to join his group.

In Kader Siddiqui’s book titled Swadhinata ’71, he describes our first encounter as follows.

On June 23rd, a young man of twenty-two or twenty-three years old, named Nuran Nabi came to our camp at noon. He was from Hemnagar of Gopalpur. He was accompanied by a group of eight freedom fighters that had come from India. They wanted to blast the bridges on Dhaka-Tangail or Tangail-Mymensingh Highway.

Nuran Nabi said, “They seek your cooperation. He wore spectacles, looked rather short and had round face. He further said, “the group came to our village. I have escorted them here; I want to join your group. This year I have appeared at the Honors Final Examination in Biochemistry at Dhaka University. Whatever responsibility you assign me, I will do it…and I can do it.

I looked at the innocent and affectionate face of the young man without a blink and said, ‘If you really want to cooperate with us, you can do a lot; there is no doubt about that. Give me some time and I will talk to you in the evening. You have walked a long distance. Have your meals and take some rest.

After lunch, I met with Shaheed, Enayet Karim, Moazzem Hossain Khan, Ali Asgar Khan, Aziz Bangal, Shamsu, Abdul Alim, Quddus, Bhola, Dudu Mia (a local leader), and three middle-aged men named Abdul Bari, Bharat, and Arfan. Like me, they all joined the group that day.

With the presence of Shaheed, Shamsu and Aziz, I felt at home. However, contrary to my expectations, Arzoo and Suhrawardi of our team were not there. Nonetheless, I found Habibur Rahman, Imam and others. I came to learn that Arzoo and Suhrawardi were here yesterday with the group. Previously, they committed to Kader that they would help build up the Mukti Bahini.

However, last week, they had formed a Mukti Bahini group with others and me and began their operations. When our group was initially formed, neither Arzoo, nor Suhrawardi, had mentioned the name of Kader Siddqui.

Apparently, they had a disagreement with Kader. Since Arzoo and Suhrawardi failed to uphold their pledge, Kader did not accept them into his group, claiming that it was in the greater interest of the liberation war.

However, a few months later, these two men would join the Mukti Bahini again under Kader and performed their duties with unparalleled dedication.

Kader Siddiqui I met Kader again later that evening. He suggested that I work at the Mukti Bahini headquarters. Shaheed and a few others would also be working there. So, I gladly accepted.

On the evenings of June 23rd and 24th, I had conversations with several members of the Mukti Bahini, including close confidants of Kader. They explained when and how Kader had organized this group of freedom fighters.

Kader’s father was a well-known lawyer in Tangail. His older brother Abdul Latif Siddiqui was a student leader and was later elected to the East Pakistan Provincial Assembly. After a family incident, Kader left home and joined the Pakistani Army. There, he served for two years, but then left the military to attend college.

As a college student, Kader became very active in students politics. He was elected general secretary of the Tangail District Student League. During the non-cooperation movement of March

1971, Kader played a significant role in Tangail District.

After the 26th of March 1971, the Free Bangladesh Liberation Council of Tangail was formed under the leadership of Latif Siddiqui. Kader was also an active member of the council. He attempted to convince the soldiers of the Bengal Regiment stationed in Tangail to defect for Bangladesh.

After the fall of Tangail under Pakistani military occupation, Kader tried to flee to India. However, he failed and went underground to the hilly areas of Tangail in April 1971. It was then, from amidst the shadows, that Kader secretly planned an intricate network to organize the Mukti Bahini. On May 4th, 1971, the Mukti Bahini formally made its debut with Kader Siddiqui and his trusted associates.

Kader’s associates, with whom he founded the Mukti Bahini, were: Manirul Islam, Saidur Rahman, Faruk Ahmad, Abul Malek, Abdur Razzak Siddiqui, Sadrul, Hamidul Haq, Khorshed Alam, Shawkat Momen Shahjahan, Mamunur Rashid, and Moazzem Hossain Khan.

Kader Siddiqui began his operations by stockpiling arms and ammunition left by the EPR. Next, he began training the new recruits of the Mukti Bahini. Then, in need of a headquarters for the Mukti Bahini, he took to the hills of Sakhipur. Sakhipur was just adjacent to Kalihati and Basail. Establishing a base there would later prove to be a significant strategic move.

On June roth, Kader Siddiqui formally took an oath with his fellow freedom fighters at Bahertali Bazaar in Sakhipur. He organized the Mukti Bahini into several companies. Each company was placed under the leadership of a skilled commander. Each commander took charge of a specific zone. From May 4th to June 19th, the Mukti Bahini was successful in various operations against Pakistani forces and their allies.

Kader Siddiqui himself led operations against the police stations in Kalihati, Ghatail, and Gopalpur. The success of these operations created great enthusiasm amongst the freedom fighters. Gopalpur police station was taken over on June 19th. The next day, Kader Siddiqui moved to Bhuapur Bazaar and established a camp.

I, along with Shaheed and other student leaders, joined Kader at Bhuapur on June 23rd. From that very day, the three of us, Kader, Shaheed, and I, formed a successful team. We were the core leaders and our relationship was built on mutual trust and respect. Each of

us was complementary and respectful to one another. The cohesion of this trinity would be the key to the success of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Kader possessed extraordinary organizing skills and selfconfidence. He was a rare military genius. His knack for strategicmilitary planning was unparalleled. Shaheed and I were his left and right arms. From these strengths he built the Mukti Bahini comprising of seventeen thousand freedom fighters and fifty thousand volunteers.

In recognition of his heroism, he was popularly known as “Bagha” or “Tiger” Siddiqui. The Bangladesh Government awarded him the gallantry title Bir Uttam, the highest title awarded to livingwar heroes. Kader Siddiqui, in my opinion, is the greatest war hero in Bangladesh’s history.

On June 25th, Kader went to Falda to visit the company of Fazlur Rahman. I, along with Shaheed, Moazzem, Daud, and Nurul accompanied him. There, I witnessed a great exhibition of discipline by the Mukti Bahini. Fazlur Rahman’s company received Kader with a military guard of honor. Thousands of people assembled to watch this ceremony.

Captain Fazlur Rahman carried the demeanor of a very smart and skilled leader. His woolly moustache resembled that of the worldrenowned artists, Salvador Dali. Captain Rahman’s fluency in English, his neatly pressed military uniform, his pistol and grenade at his waist, all made him stand out as an archetype commander. The freedom fighters in his group demonstrated exceptional athletic feats. Everyone appreciated his accomplishment of building such a disciplined Mukti Bahini unit. In the evening we came back to Bhuapur.

By then, Kader was known as the Commander-in-Chief of Tangail Mukti Bahini. Everyone greeted him with that title and called him “Sir”. Without any hesitation, I too, followed suit. Some even referred to the Tangail Mukti Bahini as the Kaderia Bahini.

That evening, Kader called me in for a meeting. He said that contact with the Indian government was of the utmost importance. He entrusted me with this responsibility. I had to go to India. Eagerly, I accepted the assignment. I said, “I hope, I can prove myself worthy of your trust, Sir.”

Nurul would be my companion to India. Before the war broke out, he was the chief of Tangail District Volunteer League. He went

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o India in April and came back in May. Among the eight freedom fighters that had come from India, Lutfor Rahman and four others would join me on my journey to India. The remaining three stayed at camp with the Tangail Mukti Bahini. We left for India on the night of June 26th.

Contact with the Indian Government By mid-June 1971, the Mukti Bahini was able to liberate large areas of Tangail District from the Pakistani-occupation forces. Tangail was only forty miles from Dhaka. At this point, the Pakistani Army only had control over Tangail town and a few police stations. This was quite embarrassing for the Pakistani military junta.

They tried to mount a counter-strike on the Mukti Bahini to recapture the liberated areas. Initially, the Mukti Bahini strategy was simply “to hit and run”. We found some success with this strategy However, it was essential to have heavy arms and ammunition to maintain the liberated areas and protect our headquarters.

Additionally, in order to counter the attack of the enemy, it was essential that we limit their movement by destroying some bridges. However, there was one major setback to this plan. We didn’t have any explosives.

Kader’s plan was to make contact with India and the exiled Bangladesh government at Mujibnagar to get supplies of heavy arms and ammunition. This became my responsibility.

Crossing the Border With this mission, my companions and I left Bhuapur for India on June 26th. We hired a small boat for our voyage. Our first stop was Lutfor’s house at Raghunathpur. It was across the Jamuna River to the north of Jagannathganj Ferry Station. Another five freedom fighters joined us there. These five men had come from India with Lutfor, but stayed behind at his house while Lutfor visited me.

After sailing for two days and two nights, we reached Changainarchar, about fifteen miles north of Bahadurabad Ferry Station

We were truly in a “danger zone”, but this had nothing to do with Pakistani forces. This area belonged to pirates! The people here lived in constant fear of attack.

Even though we were armed freedom fighters, we too, were not immune to such raids. In the dark hours of the night as we passed through, pirates tried to attack our boat. They fired at our boat and asked us to stop. The boatmen panicked. However, I asked them to move quickly and try to escape from the pirates.

Lutfor became excited. He wanted to test his training. He wanted to test out his machinegun. He sought my permission to retaliate. This would be his first test as a soldier. This would be my first test as a leader.

I thought for a moment and said to Lutfor, “No, don’t shoot”

I explained to him that the sound of gunfire would surely alert our enemies at Bahadurabad Ferry Station and would put us at risk of losing our cover. Moreover, as the Mukti Bahini commonly used this route, we couldn’t afford to reveal it to our enemies. If this were to happen, things could really get dangerous, not only for us, but also for every freedom fighter who chose to travel by this route.

It was up to us to discover a secret and safe river passage to India. Until now, this route appeared to be the quickest and safest. But now, I had no choice, but to make a strategic decision. We retreated for about thirty miles and embarked on an alternative route.

This time, we divided ourselves into two groups until we reached the Melandah area of Jamalpur, each group taking a separate path. We had to walk down an additional fifteen miles. The groups were formed with the assumption that if one failed, the other would still fulfill its mission to reach India and inform the governments of Bangladesh and India of our situation.

The first group consisted of Nurul, Lutfor, and I. We were to report at the Indian border check-post in Porakhasia via Islampur. Rakib, Tuku, Foyez, and Badal were in the second group. Their destination was the Mukti Bahini camp at the Mahendraganj-Indian border post via Dewanganj. Both routes were dangerous and filled with peril. But against all odds, we went on.

On the 2nd of July, our team took shelter at the residence of Bashir Master (teacher). Bashir was a fearless and truly patriotic individual. He secretly offered shelter to freedom fighters and was always hospitable.

He knew of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. One of his sons was a correspondent for the Daily Paigam, a newspaper owned by Monem Khan, former pro-Pakistani Governor of East Pakistan. In spite of this, he strongly supported the liberation war.

Incidentally, the chairman of the local council was a Pakistani supporter and also the chairman of the pro-Pakistani Peace Committee. If he ever came to know about our presence, we would be in serious trouble, and Bashir’s fate would be no better. Despite these risks, he gave shelter to my team. Other freedom fighters continued to receive similar hospitality from Bashir Master during the war.

On the 3rd of July, we resumed our journey. Hazaribari Railway Station was a strong outpost of the occupation forces. In order to mislead enemy soldiers, Nurul wore the ordinary clothes of a local villager. Lutfor dressed up as an Islamic priest, wearing an Islamic cap and a long white robe. To his advantage, he already had a long beard.

Unfortunately, trying to conceal my identity wasn’t quite as simple. I was a young man with glasses and clearly resembled a college student. At that time, there weren’t many college students in the area. Most were either in the city, or like me, fighting for independence. Even for the few, who might still be around, they knew better than to come out in public. To do so, would most definitely spell disaster.

So I had to disguise myself. I removed my glasses. I found an umbrella and a shopping bag. With a pen and paper, I made a list. I made a list of groceries. I was a grocery shopper!

We paced ourselves, trying to keep some distance between ourselves. Cautiously, we reached the ferry station, which was just across from the train station

There were a few boats waiting at the ferry station. However, none of the boatmen were willing to go to Bokshiiganj. Suddenly, an old man came near us and whispered to Lutfor, “Sir, I have figured you out! Board my boat. You can pay me whatever price you deem fair. I often take the Mukti Bahini across…”

I immediately became suspicious of the old boatman. What would we do if he handed us over to the Pakistani forces? We closely scrutinized the old man. Finally, we decided there was nothing mischievous about him. If he wanted to reveal our identity to the enemy, he would have done it by now. He was just an innocent boatman. After all, we really didn’t have much choice. Ultimately, we took a risk and boarded his boat.

As the boat neared Bokshiiganj, darkness had already blanketed the landscape. We were hungry and tired. We hadn’t eaten all day.

Moreover, sailing amidst such darkness in unknown waters was quite dangerous.

Constrained by our circumstances, we sought shelter in a house at Mesherchar. The lord of the house was a kind person. He greeted us warmly. But he also warned us that his neighbor was a politician who contested in the last election on behalf of the pro-Pakistani party. Not only did he bid his allegiance to the Pakistani Army, but was actively collaborating with them against the Mukti Bahini.

This was no place for freedom fighters to stay. So, we filled our stomachs with water and then proceeded towards the Indian border.

It was about midnight. We finally found a house where we could rest till morning. The owner of the house was a former member of the Jamaat-e-Islami, a pro-Pakistani political party. However, the crackdown on March 25th by the Pakistani Army, and the bestial killings and tortures that followed had a major effect on him. He was a changed man and now a staunch supporter of the Mukti Bahini. He was more than willing to help us. At daybreak, he arranged for a woodcutter to lead us to the border.

We waded through waist-high waters and crossed three miles of swamp before we finally reached dry land. While I was walking, I noticed a tingling in my legs. I carefully looked down and saw that my legs were speckled with some sort of black stuff.

I thought it was probably just some algae or muck that I had carried with me from the swamp. However, when I reached down to clean myself off, I felt something slippery and squishy. At the top of my lungs I screamed, “Leeches!”

The woodcutter ran towards me and scrapped them off my legs with the blunt side of his knife. When Nurul, Lutfor, and the woodcutter looked down at their own legs, they realized that their luck hadn’t been any better.

Leeches are miraculous creatures. The chemicals in their suckers provide their host with an anesthetic effect. As soon as a leech bites its host, the area becomes numb. The victim does not feel any pain at all. Unnoticed, it is free to suck blood happily until it becomes swollen and spongy. It seems evolution was working against us here. Though, we were fortunate that we were in the water for only a short period of time.

For the woodcutter, this was a trip that he had made several times before. He moved swiftly. We followed behind, thoroughly perspired. We met a few people along the way, who inquired about

our identities. Cleverly, the woodcutter introduced us as the traders of tobacco leaves going up the hills for business.

Finally, on the 3rd of July, we crossed the border. From that point on we had to travel uphill. The woodcutter casually said, “The occupation forces used to regularly patrol these parts before, but now they were too scared of the Mukti Bahini. They don’t patrol here that often anymore. Most of the time, they don’t even come out of their camps.”

The sun was rising. We started our journey very early in the morning. We barely had anything for breakfast. Soon we were too hungry to walk uphill. We asked the woodcutter if we could find a place to eat. He changed course and headed towards a tila, a small hill, and asked us to follow him.

It was a steep tila. The woodcutter quickly walked along the spiraling-narrow steps that were cut into the side of the tila. For us, this was a tough act to follow.

The walking path ended at the top of the tila, just in front of a Garo (an indigenous tribe) house. It was a small hut made of straw. There were several trees around the hut. The top of the tila was about one hundred square feet. It resembled a lookout tower. We could see the majesty of the entire valley from here.

The woodcutter explained to us that the Garo family had to live atop the tila in order to protect themselves from the wild animals of the area. This was not the first time that he had visited this family.

The man of the house cordially received us. His wife and young son were out working in the valley. This was the Garo custom. The men stayed at home, while the ladies and children worked in the field.

We couldn’t understand his language. However, the woodcutter somehow managed to communicate with him anyway. We sat in the yard on a small stool. The woodcutter asked if the man could provide us with some food. He nodded his head and brought a whole jackfruit and put it in front of us.

Eating an entire jackfruit was no small feat. However, there was no certainty as to when or where we would have our next meal. So, we ate to our heart’s content.

He gave us a small glass of water to share amongst the four of us. He apologized, explaining that water was scarce due to a drought during the last few weeks. Rain was their main source of drinking water.

It was time to say good-bye to the woodcutter and our host. We wanted to offer the woodcutter some wages for his service. However, as we tried to give him some money, the man protested, “You are willing to sacrifice your lives for my country. How can I accept money from you?”

Our Garo host reiterated the sentiment.

However, with the woodcutter gone, we needed a new guide. We were going to need help crossing the hilly terrain to reach the Porakhasia camp of the Indian Border Security Forces (BSF). Immediately, the Garo man called on his son, who was still working in the field. He asked him to take us across the hill to the BSF camp. After bidding farewell, we rushed down to the valley following our new guide.

It was afternoon. Our guide crisscrossed the valley. We tried hard to keep up with his pace. Since none of us spoke his language, all we could do was make sure we shadowed him.

The landscape was beautiful. Under a clear blue sky, dark-green hills rose majestically from the base of narrow green valleys. It was a stunning view.

This was the most peaceful leg of our trip. There wasn’t a single face that we crossed paths with. Silence prevailed throughout the valley.

After walking about a mile, the stillness of the valley was suddenly broken by music coming from a distance. However, we couldn’t pinpoint the source. We asked our guide, but with the language barrier, we got nowhere.

As we moved forward, the sound became more pronounced. It was the ringing of bells. Finally, we found our musicians. It was a herd of cows!

The cows were grazing along the valley. Each cow had a bell on its neck. As the cows ate and their necks swayed side-to-side, a beautiful sound resonated throughout the valley.

We could not see any cowboys watching over the heard. Rather we saw only a group of cowgirls. They were young Garo girls dressed in colorful bottoms, but completely topless. They were not roaming after their cows. Instead, they sat lying on a raised bamboo platform under the shade of trees. They were enjoying the music, soothing afternoon breeze and tranquility of the valley. They did need to keep a close eye on their cows. The sound of the bells told the cowgirls exactly where their herd was.

After several ours of walking, we crossed the hills and arrived at an Indian boarder road. It was time for our guide to return home. We were on our own from this point on. We thanked our guide and said goodbye.

People were walking along the road. We asked one of the pedestrians to show us the way to the Indian BSF camp at Porakhasia. Heading east, we walked towards the camp.

After half an hour, we saw a small village market at the side of the road. There were only about a hundred people gathered at the market. Most of them were Garo men and women doing their weekly shopping.

We were hungry and were in need of something to eat. Bananas, pineapples, rice, and vegetables were on display in the market. However, the dust from the market air blanketed most of the produce. We decided that bananas were the safest way for us to go.

After shopping, we stepped away from the crowd and stood in an open space at the corner of the market.

As I pealed my banana and was about to take my first bite, someone tapped my shoulder and uttered something to me in Hindi. I turned around. Unexpectedly, I found myself face-to-face with an Indian police constable.

At first, I couldn’t take him seriously. The constable was wearing shorts and knee-high socks. Atop his head was a tiny-colorful hat. The hat was so small compared to his head that it didn’t actually cover his head. Rather, it gently sat on top. I couldn’t help but think, “Even the gentlest of breezes could send his hat flying through the air at any moment!”

He was the first policeman I saw in this kind of clothing, However, when I saw his face, I realized that this was a serious matter. Swinging his club, he asked us very stoically, “Who are you and where are you headed?” He demanded to see a form of identification.

We had no passports or documentation. I told him who we were and explained our mission. He was skeptical about my claims and accused, “You are Pakistani spies!”

He threatened that if we failed to show him identification, he would have no choice, but to arrest us.

I was caught completely off-guard. However, I challenged his accusations and asked him to take us to Porakhasia BSF camp. It was a tense situation.

As we were engaged in this sharp exchange, his superior officer arrived at the spot. This made us even more apprehensive. However, I stuck to my story and explained our mission to him. To our surprise, he smiled and said, “Welcome to India!”

He understood our situation. We were relieved. He even gave us a ride in his jeep to the BSF camp. Later, we found out that it was not uncommon for some stray police constables to harass refugees just to solicit bribes.

Finally, our onerous journey had ended. We reached Porakhasia camp safely. It was just before sunset.

The BSF officers and the freedom fighters were both very keen on making contact with the Tangail Mukti Bahini. Gratitude flowed from every direction.

The pain endured over the past two weeks quickly dissipated from our bodies and minds. The Bangladesh and Indian governments were informed of our arrival.

Dr. Mahmud and Prof. Hannan Khan at Porakhasia Camp Captain Baljit Singh of the Indian Border Security Forces (BSF) greeted us at Porakhasia Camp. He introduced us to Dr. Mahmud, Prof. Hannan, and Subedar Abdur Rahim, the commanders of the camp. We came to know that Subedar Rahim was involved in the battles against the Pakistani Army at Goran-Satichora and Kalihati of Tangail, which took place in April.

Subedar Rahim was a very hospitable host. As representatives of the Tangail Mukti Bahini, he was happy to have us stay with him. And after such a long and arduous journey, we were more than happy to take a sojourn.

That evening we had the opportunity to talk to Dr. Mahmud. Both, Dr. Mahmud and Professor Hannan were from the Mymensingh District. We learned that Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury, the chief medical officer of our Mukti Bahini group, was a friend of Dr. Mahmud. They were both former-students of Mymensingh Medical College. There we also met a representative of the Bangladesh government.

In March of 1995, I organized a program in Brooklyn, New York in celebration of Bangladesh’s Independence Day. The program was held under the banner of the National Coordination Committee for the Trial of Bangladesh War Criminals of 1971. As a Co-convener of

that program, my name appeared in the local newspapers frequently

Coincidently, Dr. Mahmud happened to be in New York for the medical treatment of his brother. He read my name in the Weekly Probashi, and thought to himself that this “Nabi” just might be the same person he knew back in 1971. So he showed up at the function in Brooklyn.

As always, traveling from New Jersey to New York City, I was fashionably late. After I arrived, my fellow organizers informed me that someone named Dr. Mahmud was waiting to see me.

It had been a long twenty-five years, and so, the name didn’t immediately ring a bell. I tried hard to recollect, but still could not make the connection. However, as soon as I saw him, there was no denying that I was in the presence of my fellow freedom fighter! It was truly a pleasant surprise. Like two distant-brothers reunited, we embraced.

There were about a thousand people at the function. I introduced Dr. Mahmud to them. As he addressed the meeting, he pulled a card out from his pocket. He said that Abdur Rahman Biswas, President of People’s Republic of Bangladesh, had sent it to him. It was an invitation for him to join a reception arranged to celebrate Bangladesh’s Independence Day. However, President Biswas was a Razakar, a traitor to Bangladesh.

Dr. Mahmud said, “I, as a freedom fighter, cannot accept the invitation of a Razakar. To do so, would be a great disgrace!”

As he uttered these words, he raised the card to the crowd and tore it apart, piece-by-piece. The audience erupted in applause.

I too, raise my hand and saluted Dr. Mahmud, as his actions embodied the true character and spirit of the Mukti Bahini.

Brigadier Sant Singh The next afternoon, a Sikh officer of the Indian Army came to see us. He introduced himself as Brigadier Sant Singh and embraced me. I was not at all prepared for such a warm greeting. He told me that he had been trying very hard to establish contact with the Tangail Mukti Bahini. So, he was very relieved to see us.

After an introductory greeting, he said, “You have to go to Tura with me this very day. Tomorrow, Major General Gill will meet with you. Get ready young man”.

I had nothing more to prepare. So I said, “I am ready”.

It was decided that Nurul and Lutfor would stay behind in Porakhasia and join me later at Mankachar.

I boarded the jeep of Brigadier Sant Singh. We were heading towards Tura, an important town of Meghalaya, an Indian province. From the plains of Porakhasia we had been heading upward to the hilly areas. Brigadier Singh was driving the jeep himself. I was sitting beside him. It was an uphill journey all the way to Tura.

The nature around us was simply breathtaking. Never before had I seen such a beautiful landscape. The curvy roads that stretched through the hills and the speeding jeep made for a beautiful spectacle. Brigadier Singh looked extremely skilled and selfconfident as he drove the jeep. At some points of our journey, we would find ourselves with a hill to one side, and a valley of some hundred feet, to the other. It was quite scary. If the car slid down, we would be doomed.

I was enjoying this vista with rapt attention for quite some time. Suddenly, it occurred to me that silence on my part could be deemed impolite. I told Brigadier Singh of the enchantment I had been experiencing. With a smile, he said that he had noticed my captivated state of mind, but was happy to know that my silence had come from my response to the aesthetics of nature, and not from any source of displeasure.

“It gives me great joy to get to know a romantic freedom fighter such as you,” he said.

I replied, “I am not a poet or novelist. I have no talent to express the passionate mind. I tend to keep those thoughts inside.”

Nonetheless, the conversation moved on. It blossomed into a meaningful dialogue. We discussed several personal details, likes and dislikes, family anecdotes, and so on. And through this communication, we established a relationship of mutual respect. It was the beginning of an extraordinary relationship, one that might prove to hold significant consequence.

It took almost an hour to reach Tura. I conveyed to him the details of the Tangail Mukti Bahini, the personal profile and political philosophy of Kader Siddiqui. This Sikh officer was almost of my father’s age, but I was deeply impressed by his sincere and warm demeanor.

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Mukti Bahini Training Camp at Tura The Mukti Bahini training camp was situated in a valley several miles from Tura. We reached the camp just before evening. Major Mukherjee and Captain Bose, two officers of Brigadier Singh’s brigade welcomed me.

The camp was half a mile away from the hilly road. Just after the entrance were several rows of tents for the Indian Army. There were about five hundred Indian soldiers stationed there. Just beyond the Indian Army tents was an open field, across from which, were hundreds of tents for the Mukti Bahini. It was on this field between the two campsites that the Indian Army trained these one thousand freedom fighters.

I was having a cup of tea at Brigadier Singh’s office. In the distance, I could see hundreds of Mukti Bahini, standing in rows on the field, singing our national anthem. Instinctively, I stood up in salute. Looking at me, Brigadier Singh did the same.

He said, “Come on. Let’s go, I’ll take you there. I was going to introduce you to them tomorrow anyway”. We walked to the field and joined the freedom fighters in their assembly.

With my arms clenched to my sides, I attentively joined them in singing our national anthem. As the singing ended, Brigadier Singh took the microphone and said, “I’d like to introduce you to a very special person. I am sure that you will all be pleased to meet him.”

He announced my name and handed me the microphone.

I was completely unprepared. All of a sudden, I found myself standing in front of a thousand freedom fighters. My knees began trembling. Slowly, as I raised the microphone to my mouth, I realized that each and every individual before me was willing to give his life for the liberation of Bangladesh. They were willing to die for my people. They needed to know that they were not alone. It was up to me to tell them.

I told them about the formation of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. I told them about our operations. I told them about the large areas that we had liberated from the Pakistani Army.

“We are only forty miles from Dhaka!” I shouted. Suddenly, the electricity of the crowd began to hum.

I went on to underline the heroism of Kader Siddiqui and offered them salutary greetings on his behalf. I said that soon we would welcome them across the border to join us in a fight against the enemy. I said, “I hope to see you all in the free zone soon. I hope to

see you all in a liberated Bangladesh.”

Before I could conclude, I was interrupted by an eruption of slogans “Joy Bangla! Joy Bangabandhu!” I knew at that moment Bangladesh was alive, and that her pulse was at the center of this camp

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. The passionate slogans chanted by the thousand freedom fighters passed through space creating echoes against the mountains. It was a moment incapable of being captured amongst the commonality of human expression. It was a moment that could only be felt by the depths of one’s soul.

Brigadier Singh and I were standing on the platform. Behind us were Major Mukherjee, Captain Bose, and an EPR Subedar. I took the microphone again and led the slogan. “Joy Bangla! Joy Bangabandhu!”

Nothing in my twenty-two years of life had prepared me for such a moment. To say that I was deeply moved by the event was an understatement. I would always remember this moment for the rest of my life.

Those of us on the platform left the freedom fighters and returned to the office of Brigadier Singh. He left me in the care of Major Mukherjee and said that the next morning I would meet with General Gill, the commander of the 101 Communication Zone of the Indian Army.

To the left and rear of the camp, were hills that peered over the range. To the right of the camp was a river with a mountain rising from behind the opposite bank. Interestingly, like most mountain rivers, the banks were encrusted with rocks and gleaming white waters. However, the river was so deep, and the water roared so boisterously that the river took on a personality of its own. It was in the fellowship of this river that many Mukti Bahini found solitude and peace amidst their preparation for war.

My accommodations were arranged in a VIP tent that was situated on the bank of the river between the camps of the Indian Army and our freedom fighters. I didn’t understand why my tent was labeled “VIP” It had two beds made of thin bamboo. The mattress of the bed was comprised of a blanket and a thin sheet draped over the bamboo shoots. On top of the mattress were a simple blanket and a pillow. The next day I found that the freedom fighter’s camps had almost identical arrangements. The sole difference was that their beds lacked a bed sheet. I knew that this was going to be a no

frills affair, but I never imagined that a single bed sheet could draw the line between VIPs and the rest of the camp. Nonetheless, after several weeks, this was the first restful night’s sleep that I had gotten. It felt good to be a VIP.

First thing in the morning, I got ready and reported to Captain Bose’s tent. As we ate breakfast, he asked me a series of specific questions about Kader Siddiqui and me. With a small notebook he recorded my responses. He asked me to name the central student and youth leaders that I knew. I mentioned Abdul Quddus Makhon, a student leader of Fazlul Huq Hall. I mentioned the youth leaders Sirajul Alam Khan, Tofael Ahmed, and Abdur Razzak. Lastly, I brought up my connection with Fazlur Rahman Khan, an elected member of the provincial assembly from Tangail. All in all, the discussion took place amidst a very friendly atmosphere.

It wasn’t until much later that I learned that Captain Bose was, in fact, an intelligence officer of the Indian Army.

Meeting with Major General Gill At about ten in the morning, Brigadier Sant Singh came and picked me up in his jeep. We left for the headquarters of the 101 Communication Zone of the Indian Army. It was a couple of miles away on the other side of Tura.

We went straight to the office of Major General Gill. He was expecting us.

A Sikh officer, Major General Gill was a tall man of six and a half feet. His head was adorned with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a turban. Clenched in his hand was a long cane, the top of which was intricately crafted.

There were two sofas in his office. Brigadier Singh and I sat on one; General Gill took his seat on the other. After the initial greetings, we began our discussion.

He informed me that the Indian Army, through the interception of Pakistani radio messages, had learned that Kader Siddiqui and the Tangail Mukti Bahini had been successful in liberating vast areas of Tangail from Pakistani forces. After this news, it became strategically important that he and the Indian Army make contact with us. Coincidently, it was our independent initiative to seek them out as well. So this was a mutually beneficial meeting.

He asked me what he and the Indian Army could do to further

help our efforts. I mentioned that thus far, we have only engaged the enemy in “hit and run” operations. But, in order to protect the free zones, it had become essential that we have sufficient arms and ammunition

While we discussed the matter, I reached for my sleeve. Folded to my elbows, I slowly unraveled my shirtsleeve to reveal a letter from Kader Siddiqui.

About three weeks earlier, when I left home, I was wearing my usual university dress shirt. In order to disguise myself at Jamalpur, I took off the shirt and borrowed one from Lutfor. He got it from a refugee camp in India. However, this particular shirt had no pockets. Thus, as I unfolded the sleeve, General Gill looked at us and asked Brigadier Singh whether this was a safest way to carry a letter. We looked at each other and neither of us had an answer. For a moment, we both felt a bit uneasy.

The letter was a small piece of paper addressing the Indian government and the exiled government of Bangladesh. Kader had noted that in Tangail the Mukti Bahini had engaged in an all-outwar against the occupation forces. Any assistance would contribute greatly to the war effort. In conclusion, he wrote, “Nuran Nabi is my representative. His word is my word.”

The three of us discussed matters for half an hour. General Gill said that the supply of arms and ammunition was not a problem. We could take whatever we were capable of transporting. He instructed Brigadier Singh to make the arrangements. Brigadier Singh mentioned that he too was not worried about providing the supplies, but rather was concerned about how we would transport it all. Nonetheless, he said he’d look into the details.

General Gill said that making the arrangements to transport the arms might take a while. He suggested that in the meantime, I get some rest or maybe, take a trip to Calcutta. He said he could facilitate this as well. I humbly said that the liberation war was rapidly gaining momentum. So the earlier I returned with the supplies, the better it was for us. The better it was for Bangladesh.

He was a bit taken back by my reply. He said, “Many of your leaders come to me for personal favors; some even request that I arrange for more comfortable living accommodations. Your words have touched me deeply. I can see that your favor truly lies with your motherland.”

I was extremely gratified with the outcome of the meeting. I

thanked the general for the meeting and returned to camp with Brigadier Singh. I retired to my “VIP” tent with a sense of satisfaction.

At lunchtime, Captain Bose took me to their officers’ mess hall to eat. As I returned to my tent with a full stomach, I began thinking about the four Indian Army officers I had met over the past few days. I was genuinely impressed with the way they had treated me. There was a certain touch of warmth that I found in all of them. In fact, as I thought about them, I recalled an event from 1967.

I was still a student of Ananda Mohan College at the time. It was a holiday and I was walking home from Jagannathganj Train Station. Incidentally, I discovered that I had been walking parallel to a private of the Pakistani Army for quite some time without uttering a word. To avoid being rude, I tried to engage him in a conversation. I asked the young soldier his name, where he was from, and where he was stationed. He didn’t answer. So, naturally, I asked him again.

He reacted sharply saying, “Can’t you see that I am army personnel. We don’t talk to civilians unless we have to.” I apologized, stating that I wasn’t aware of the protocol.

Comparing the warmth of the Indian Army personnel to my earlier experience, it became apparent that the Pakistani military considered themselves to be our rulers and masters. After all, the military had been ruling Pakistan for so many years. Meanwhile, India had always remained a democratic nation, where the Indian Army’s role was always to serve a civilian authority. The Indian Army simply had a different mindset.

In the early afternoon, Brigadier Singh asked me to meet him in his office. He told me that all of the arrangements had been made for our supplies. The next night, Major Bindar Singh of the BSF at Mankachar would take care of everything.

I had to sign some papers at the quartermaster’s office of Singh’s Brigade in order to have the supplies delivered. Boats had been hired from Mankachar to transport the arms and ammunitions. There were only six boats that agreed to go on the two hundred mile roundtrip journey from Mankachar. Of course, boats alone weren’t enough. We needed experienced boatmen who knew the rivers, as well. Brigadier Singh advised me to be ready to leave for Mankachar in the morning. He embraced me and wished me a safe journey back to Tangail.

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Meeting with Mujahidi and Rafia Aktar Dolly at Tura I returned to the tent with Captain Bose. He suggested that since my business at the camp was complete, I should take a tour of Tura Town in the afternoon. I agreed, but before I could do so, I knew I had to talk to the freedom fighters before I left. I intended to talk to them the previous day, but when I had a chance, they were busy with their training drills. Some of the freedom fighters were probably from Tangail. I’m sure they were curious of the details surrounding their respective families and villages. I might be able to provide them with this information.

Captain Bose agreed to my proposal. We walked over to the camp. The freedom fighters were lying on their cots. They were resting up, before the vigorous training scheduled to come in the evening.

I got the chance to talk to a number of them. Most of the freedom fighters were from Mymensingh, Tangail, and Sylhet. Their training would be complete by the following week. They counted the days to when they could return to their homeland and put their training to use. They were eager to face the enemy. They were eager to free Bangladesh. Before I left, I told them that I would see them next, when we were all in a liberated Bangladesh.

Captain Bose and I took a jeep to Tura, the capital of Meghalaya. Tura was a small town, but it stood several hundred feet above sea level. The original inhabitants of the town belonged to the Caro tribe. The winding roads of Tura crept along the hills like a snake along a tree trunk. One path hung just fifty feet above the other, as the dwellings of the town’s people encrusted the space in between.

We cruised around town in our military jeep, before stopping in downtown.

Typically, the Garo were short in stature and had flat noses. Suddenly, from amidst the crowds, two familiar faces appeared. A poet and student leader of Tangail, Al Mujahidi was walking with his head high above the pedestrian crowd. Rafia Aktar Dolly, a former student leader and member of the National Assembly was with him. I knew both of them relatively well. It was a pleasant surprise.

They told me that they had endured a great deal of pain and suffering to reach Tura. They had just arrived a few days ago, but would soon be back en route to Calcutta. I told them about my mission to return to Tangail with supplies of arms. Due to time constraints we kept our conversation brief.

A Strange Reaction from the Subedar

In the evening, Captain Bose proposed that we have dinner at a restaurant in Tura. I thanked him but said, “No, I would rather eat at the camp”. Nonetheless, he insisted. His persistence struck my curiosity. I asked if there was something wrong. He hesitantly stumbled over his words. I was shocked at what I had learned. More so, I was disappointed.

The previous day when I arrived at the camp, I was accommodated in a VIP tent and had dinner in the Indian Army officer’s mess hall. There was an EPR Subedar who stayed in the tent just adjacent to mine. He assisted the Indian soldiers in the training of our freedom fighters. Though he too was staying in a VIP tent, his meals were arranged through the Mukti Bahini mess hall.

Apparently, my special treatment had wounded his ego. So he complained to Captain Bose saying that either, as an officer, he get his dinners in the Indian Army officer’s mess hall, or I be asked to eat in Mukti Bahini mess hall, as well.

I would be leaving for Mankachar the next day after breakfast with the captain at his tent. By having our dinner at Tura that night, Captain Bose could easily avoid dealing with the Subedar and his complaints.

I had no comments and agreed to have dinner in Tura. Nonetheless, I couldn’t get past the complaints that the Subedar had with me. What was wrong with him? Most of us were preoccupied with the thought that if we failed to retaliate against the Pakistani Army, we would be slaves forever. This Subedar, on the other hand, was only concerned with his own self-image.

Then again, what if this man was sincerely hurt? After all, he was the senior-most Bengali Army personnel at the Mukti Bahini camp. It was fair for him to expect some special privileges. With this in mind, I asked Captain Bose if he could arrange for the Subedar to have his meals with the Indian officers.

Captain Bose said that this wasn’t the issue. Rather, this was the most politically correct arrangement. It was an opportunity to promote camaraderie amongst the freedom fighters. None of the freedom fighters at the camp were salaried personnel. However, many of them possessed academic qualification and accomplishments superior to that of the Subedar’s. Therefore, privileges could not be bestowed on military rank alone.

I had no solution for the Subedar’s quandary. Nonetheless, the

matter kept swirling in my head. For the first time in my life, I found myself in this situation. Was I the target of jealousy?

How could this be? Could something as small as where we ate bring a man to resent another? I was a guest here for only two days. More importantly, I was a fellow freedom fighter. Surely, I would have extended the same grace to another.

I found the whole situation a bit unsettling. However, as the lessons of my life would unfold, I would come to know first-hand, the extent to which jealousy could lead one Bangladeshi to maliciously attack another.

Supplies of Arms from India The next morning, I proceeded towards Mankachar in an Indian Army jeep. The driver was a Gurkha soldier of Nepalese origin. During the two hours spent driving to Mankachar, the driver and I did not exchange a single word. Aside from his native language, he had no other means of communication. I spent my time gazing aimlessly out the window. I let the majestic charms of the mountains seep into my mind and mesmerize me.

In the afternoon, we reached the Mankachar BSF camp. Major Bindar Singh, the commander of the camp, cordially received me. There, I also met my fellow freedom fighter, Nurul. Major Singh told me that the arrangements for my return were finalized.

The warm reception and help that I received in India amazed me. On the evening of July 5th, with six boatloads of arms and ammunition, we set sail for Tangail.

To ensure our security, a platoon of Mukti Bahini trained in India accompanied us. Rezaul Karim, a student of Rajshahi University was the commander of this platoon. His deputy was Amjad Hossain, a student of Dhaka University.

Captain Mahbub of the Mukti Bahini was assigned as our guide. He was responsible to lead our convoy across Bahadurabad Ferry Station. He hailed from the border area and was quite familiar with the local routes.

Captain Mahbub was an interesting character. He had a thick black beard and shoulder length hair. He wore shorts, an army hat and boots. With this outfit, he truly looked like a guerilla fighter.

He called himself a captain, though he had no official rank in the Mukti Bahini. In fact, he was previously a soldier in the tank

regiment of the Pakistani Army. After the Pakistani Army crackdown in Dhaka on March 26th, he deserted his unit and joined the liberation war. He dedicated himself to recruiting young refugees who came to Mankachar, into the Mukti Bahini. He helped them with basic military training.

I was unfamiliar with the route ahead, so I asked Captain Mahbub for his recommendation. He suggested that sailing through the Jamuna River via Bahadurabad Ferry Station would be the shortest and quickest path. We would have to navigate through about twenty miles of local waterways to reach the Jamuna River. Nonetheless, he assured me that this would be the shortest route.

Captain Mahbub, Commander Karim, and I were in the lead boat. Commander Karim divided his platoon among six boats. I explained the rules of engagement to Commander Karim and instructed him that no one should open fire without my order.

Captain Mahbub mentioned that though the Bahadurabad route was shorter, there was also a potential risk there. On the east of the Jamuna River was Bahadurabad Ferry Station and on the west was Fulchari Ferry Station. The Pakistani Army had strong garrisons at both locations. These two ferry stations connected the rail communication between Dhaka and northern Bangladesh. Therefore, these stations were important strategic locations for the Pakistani Army.

Captain Mahbub further informed us that the enemy gunboats patrolled the river regularly. At night, a high-powered searchlight routinely swept over the river passages like clockwork. Our only opportunity to cross would come exactly at midnight. Precise timing would be essential.

In spite of the risk, we stuck to our plan and proceeded towards the Jamuna River. Our plan was to cross the river under the cover of night, navigating alongside the river’s west bank.

While traveling towards the Jamuna River, Captain Mahbub suddenly ordered a detour. I did not question his decision since he knew this area better than me. After an hour of sailing, we passed through a village. There were dwellings on both sides on the bank. Captain Mahbub ordered the boatmen to slow down and anchor us to the bank near a house.

I was confused by his order. I questioned Captain Mahbub’s decision.

With a faint smile under his mustache, he replied, “Let’s eat.”

The house belonged to a relative of Captain Mahbub. More importantly, his new bride was staying at this residence. Since Captain Mahbub was a freedom fighter, his family was not safe at his home outside of Islampur.

His new wife and family were staying in this remote village near the Bangladesh-India border. Here they were safe.

This respite was a win-win situation. After a long time, Captain Mahbub finally had a chance to see his new bride, while we were pleasantly surprised with a sumptuous dinner of steamed rice and lentil soup.

Consequently, this break added an additional two hours to our trip. Having been ahead of schedule, this stop would bring us to the Jamuna crossing precisely at midnight.

Our appetites satisfied, we embarked on our journey once again After an hour of sailing, Captain Mahbub cautioned that we were nearing the intersection of the Jamuna River.

Anxiously we waited in the silence of the dark night for about twenty minutes. Suddenly, the mighty roar of the Jamuna welcomed us! Without the ability to hear anything over the thundering current, the presence of darkness became evermore foreboding. We could not see any thing around us. The mighty Jamuna had overwhelmed us completely. Now helpless, we were at her mercy. It was a scary moment.

Earlier I had instructed each boat to stay close to one another to prevent any separation. After all, we had no wireless communication sets. With the help of a strong down current, the boats picked up speed. I had to admit that I was pleased with our good fortune to be traveling so quickly. I was confident that we would cross Bahadurabad Ferry Station before the enemy could detect us.

After a few minutes, we saw a dim light on the eastern horizon. Captain Mahbub pointed to the east and said, “That’s the Pakistani military position at Bahadurabad Ferry Station.

We turned towards the western bank, moving away from the enemy at Bahadurabad Ferry Station. After a few minutes, the enemy began to scan the river by searchlight. Noises from our convoy might have alerted them.

Though we were out of the searchlight’s reach, we did not know the location of their gunboats. They could be hiding anywhere. Moreover, the searchlight was continuously scanning the river as if they were specifically looking for us.

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I did not want to take the risk of losing our arms and ammunitions to the enemy, nor to the river. I asked Captain Mahbub if we could bypass the enemy position through another route. He replied that there was an alternative passage. However, we would have to retreat near the border, and it would be a much longer journey. I decided that this was what we had to do.

We turned around and began to row our boats towards the north. The strong current that was once our ally, now pushed fiercely against us. It was very tough sailing. It took two hours to retreat the distance upstream that we had just traveled downstream in thirty minutes.

At dawn, we broke our retreat in a village north of Islampur. The muezzin, an Islamic clergyman, was giving Azaan, the Islamic call to prayer, from the mosque for Morning Prayer.

The villagers were still asleep. I consulted with Captain Mahbub, Nurul and Commander Karim about our next move. We decided that we would travel quickly through the local rivers bypassing Bahadurabad Ferry Station and then continue our journey through the Jamuna River to Tangail.

We left the village before the inhabitants ever woke up. We would pass through Islampur. We had to move fast so that we could cross the Patharghata Railway Bridge, which connected the JamalpurBahadurabad rail-lines. We had to do this before sunset.

This route was also very dangerous and difficult. The Razakars were always on guard at the bridge, even at night. Earlier in the month, the Mukti Bahini attempted to blow the bridge up. The enemy responded with reinforced bridge security. Nonetheless, this was our only option. This was a risk that we had to take if the supplies were going to get to Tangail.

Though the river made our retreat quite difficult, lady luck had not left our sides. We still had one advantage. Dharmakura Bazaar was located right next to the bridge.

Typically, village markets were busy only once a week. On market days, hundreds of people from all around would congregate at the market to buy and sell their goods. This day just happened to be Dharmakura Bazaar’s market day. Soon swarms of merchant boats would crowd the river-way near the bazaar and we would have no trouble blending in.

In spite of our good fortune, we could never presume safety. If our cover got blown, we would have to be prepared to fight.

Though our strategy was sound, I was still a little apprehensive. I had to anticipate that our convoy of six boats was at risk of getting stuck in traffic under the bridge. I prepared a set of contingency plans suitable for any situation.

This time we had no choice. We had to move forward no matter what the consequence. We were determined to successfully complete our mission.

I changed the leadership of the boats. I brought Nurul into my boat and transferred Commander Karim into Nurul’s boat just behind us. If our boat came under fire, I knew Commander Karim could lead his platoon and provide us with cover.

Captain Mahbub, Nurul, and I were in the first boat. Commander Karim was in the second. Amjad Hossain was in the third. Rakib was in the fourth. Faiz was in the fifth and Barek followed behind in the last boat.

The Mukti Bahini all stayed under cover of the canopy. Only the commanders sat outside. Nurul and I, dressed as merchants, sat in front of the boat. Meanwhile Captain Mahbub, dressed in his typical military fatigue, stayed under the canopy. Captain Mahbub, peering through the canopy-window, was able to navigate us towards the market.

Bend-after-bend, we snaked through the winding canal passages that threaded the villages on the canal banks. Like the breeze from a passing wind, before the villagers could make out who we were, we were already gone.

It was a bright sunny day. We traveled for several hours before nearing the market in the late afternoon. As we approached, I was worried that if this were just a small village-market there wouldn’t be enough boats for us to hide amongst. Our large convoy could end-up creating more suspicion than we wished for. This situation could invite an enemy attack

However, we were lucky. It was a large bazaar and many boats were approaching the market. We had no problem blending into the crowd. Nonetheless, when we came close to the bazaar, shoppers noticed that our convoy, instead of anchoring to the market, swiftly passed the bazaar.

This struck their curiosity, and many of the shoppers shouted at us, “Where are you coming from? Where are you going? What’s in the boat?”

To placate their quandaries, each boat replied vaguely with their

own answer. We were approaching the Patharghata Bridge when we saw that a few Razakars were guarding the bridge.

However, these men were not in combat position. Rather they were standing around casually, gossiping amongst themselves. There were a few merchant boats just in front of us. Hopefully, the Razakars would assume that our boats were merchant boats as well. However, we had to stay alert. We had to be ready for anything.

My boat crossed under the bridge without a hitch. The other boats quickly followed behind. At last, I could take a sigh of relief. However, before my breath could completely leave my chest, my eyes fell upon another bridge just a few hundred yards ahead. This was unexpected. Moreover, there were more Razakars guarding this bridge as well.

Immediately I thought, “Was the lax attitude of the first group of Razakars just a means of trapping us between the two bridges?”

I whispered to Captain Mahbub, “Do you think we’re in for some trouble?”

As his vigilant eyes scanned the Razakars from inside the canopy, he responded, “The men at the bridge only have six 303 Rifles. The Razakars are no match for our LMGs and SMGs. We’ve got them outgunned.”

Commander Karim alerted his platoon. We proceeded as usual and crossed under the bridge. Surprisingly, the Razakars did not react at all. They probably assumed that since we were allowed to cross the first bridge, that we were legitimate merchants.

We were all relieved to have these hurdles behind us. Our boats rapidly moved through the villages. While we had no problems fooling our enemy, we found the local children to be much too clever. It had become obvious to the children that this convoy of six boats had a purpose. Clearly, we were freedom fighters.

As our boat traveled down the canal passages, children ran along side the banks. Excited by our presence, they shouted, “The Mukti Bahini is here!”

Soon, crowds of villagers gathered to the edge of the water, many of which shouted slogans of “Joy Bangla!”

Nevertheless, we remained silent. We needed to avoid encouraging their excitement. We had to maintain our cover.

We proceeded towards Dewanganj. We sailed non-stop until midnight. We hadn’t eaten in the last eighteen hours. We were all hungry and tired.

I asked Captain Mahbub to suggest some place for us to rest and get some food. He informed me that we could stop at a village named Mutail, which was coming up. He had once recruited a Mukti Bahini named Badal who was from Mutail.

We stopped at Badal’s house at 1.00 A.M. Though it was late night, Badal’s parents were quite happy to see us. The first question that Badal’s mother asked was “Do any of you know my son Badal?”

Captain Mahbub replied, “I had recruited Badal into the Mukti Bahini personally. Badal is doing just fine. He is fighting the enemy in Roumari under the command of Major Shafayet Jamil.”

Badal’s parents had lost contact with their son since he left home to join the Mukti Bahini. They were very happy to hear about their son. Badal’s mother said, “I am so proud of Badal. He is my only son. May Allah protect him.”

It was with that same love and affection that Badal’s parents welcomed us into their home. It was as if Badal, himself, had returned from war.

Despite our late arrival, a goat was slaughtered and we were entertained with a feast. Badal’s father personally looked over everything so that we were treated well. We ate to our hearts’ content

We bade farewell to Captain Mahbub. He had done his duty and helped us bypass the Bahadurabad enemy position. It was time for him to return to Mankachar. We would now proceed towards the Jamuna River.

We resumed our journey at three in the morning. After an hour, we entered into the Jamuna River. Traveling down a strong current, we sailed at high speeds for most of the day. We arrived near Jaganathganj Ferry Station just after sunset. Our timing was perfect.

We had one more hurdle to cross. Jaganathganj Ferry Station was on the eastern bank of the river and it was swarming with Pakistani forces. It was only under the cover of night that we could cross this passage. Just like Bahadurabad Ferry Station, the enemy used gunboats and searchlights to comb the water. However, we eluded the enemy by navigating alongside the western bank behind a “char”, a sand-island, which jutted out off the edge of the bank.

At midnight, on July 7th, we reached our camp at Bhuapur Bazaar. Commander Gafur and his company received us warmly. They were excited to see the large quantities of arms and ammunitions. It was beyond their expectation.

Tired and exhausted, we desperately needed some rest. I asked Commander Gafur to take over the security of the boats and we went to bed.

They say good news travels quickly. After hearing the success of my mission, Moazzem Hossain Khan and other leaders of the Mukti Bahini could not wait for me to wake up to express their joy. They rushed into my room and woke me up. Moazzem nearly tossed me in the air and began dancing with joy.

The excitement of our success was dampened a bit when Commander Karim whispered into my ear. One of our boats was lost while crossing Jaganathganj Ferry Station and still had not arrived.

As we were making our detours, the boat had fallen behind the convoy and lost its way. We waited several hours for its return, but the boat never arrived. It had been swallowed by the darkness of the Jamuna. We prayed for their safety. We prayed that the enemy did not capture them.

The report of our successful return was sent to Kader Siddiqui immediately who was then staying at Sehrabari in the Eastern Zone,

Apart from bringing arms and ammunitions, my mission to India opened up much needed contact with the governments of India and Bangladesh. Many subsequent events during the war attested to the fact that this mission was a turning point for the Tangail Mukti Bahini, as well as the liberation of Dhaka.

Halt! It was July 8th. About two hundred volunteers had assembled at Bhuapur Bazaar. They were enthusiastically loading the supplies brought from India into small boats. The civilian administrators of the Bhuapur Mukti Bahini, Enayet and Moazzem supervised the work. They were assisted by volunteers: Alim, Bhola, Shamsu, Mahfuz, Motahar, Bulbul, Dudu Miah, Bari Miah, and Zia.

Like a well-oiled machine, the work flowed in perfect order. That evening, Nurul, Moazzem, and I, left Bhuapur for our headquarters in the Eastern Zone. We were a caravan of ten boatloads of arms and ammunition, about two hundred volunteers and a platoon of armed freedom fighters from Benu Company.

Navigating winding river passages, we reached the village of Pakutia Porabari, west of Tangail-Madhupur Road. Local volunteers and members of the intelligence team greeted us there. They

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advised that this route to the headquarters was quite safe. This was a liberated zone, but in order to maintain confidentiality of this route, we would not cross until nightfall. The volunteers unloaded the arms, carrying the supplies on their heads and shoulders. They hooked the heaviest supplies to bamboo shoots and carried them like palanquins. We were headed for the hilly areas.

The volunteers took rotating shifts carrying the heavy bundles. We divided into a dozen groups and moved ahead keeping distance amongst the groups. I was with the lead group. Nurul was with the middle group, while, Moazzem was with the team at the rear. The armed freedom fighters were divided in to two groups, half in the front and half in the rear.

This was my first experience walking through the thickness of the hilly jungle. I could see dwellings scattered through the plateau. This was not a typical village.

The leader of the escorting platoon, Hatem, was a freedom fighter of no more than sixteen-years old. He knew this area very well. Our group wasn’t carrying any of the heavy supplies. We had been walking swiftly.

It was a moonlit night. Under the glow of the luminous sky, the landscape seemed to come alive. Nonetheless, the middle group carrying the heavy arms was lagging so far behind that we could no longer see them. Some of these men were not accustomed to carrying such heavy loads. As we walked deeper into the thickness of the jungle, it was apparent that exhaustion had set in. Nonetheless, none of these men had to be there. They volunteered their energy and time out of a sense of patriotic duty.

As we approached a house, we heard someone scream the word “Halt!” from the front yard. Instantly Hatem grabbed my arm and said, “Sir, follow me”.

Hatem left the path and entered the forest. He took position under the cover of a tree and whispered to me that only Pakistani troops and Razakars use the term “halt”. Our volunteer groups usually say more colloquial things like “Who are you?” or “Where are you from?”

We weren’t expecting the presence of any Pakistani or Razakar forces in this area. Rather, our volunteers were supposed to be there. But then why did someone say, “halt”?

Hatem wanted to be assured. He sent three of the freedom fighters from our group to the party carrying the heavy arms.

Immediately, the freedom fighters ran through the forest to inform the other volunteers that they should not move ahead without clearance from Hatem.

Hatem told me and another freedom fighter to move towards Chankhola Bazaar and wait for him there. He said he would go back towards the house and investigate what was going on. I insisted that I accompany him, but he resisted. He turned to me and said, “If anything happened to you, Mukti Bahini Commander, Kader Siddiqui and my commander, Commander Benu, would surely shoot me.”

I was carrying the letter from General Gill for Kader Siddiqui. If I got caught with it, my whole mission would turn into a huge disaster.

I understood Hatem’s concern. I heeded his word and ran for almost half an hour. The freedom fighter and I reached Chankhola bazaar, where the local volunteer groups greeted us. I told them about what had happened. They assured me that those in that house were in fact, our volunteers. Maybe one of them got excited and decided to take this opportunity to practice some English. I felt reassured by their confidence and good humor.

After an hour, around five in the morning, Hatem arrived at Chankhola Bazaar with his team. He told us what had happened after we left

Hatem, accompanied by some freedom fighters, slowly advanced through the woods towards the house. As he approached the house, he was met with an eerie silence. Cautiously, he instructed his soldiers to take tactical combat positions around the house. He then attempted to probe the identity of the dwelling by sounding the agreed password into the air. Luckily, those from the house recognized the code and responded accordingly. Thus, the misunderstanding was ended and a potential catastrophe was averted.

Sadly, it was just five weeks later that this same Hatem, who did not hesitate to take risks and acted so courageously to protect me, died heroically in a battle against the Pakistani Army.

Pleased By Our Success At that time Kader was stationed at Sehrabari, five miles away from Chankhola. He was anticipating my arrival. I sent him a message

from Chankhola Bazaar, reporting our location.

It was time for the volunteers of Bhuapur, who carried the arms up to Chankhola Bazaar, to return to their homes. These volunteers assisted the Mukti Bahini part-time. Some of them lived close to several pro-Pakistani Muslim League leaders. They had to help the Mukti Bahini secretly, to ensure their own safety. Additionally, many of the volunteers who helped us transport the arms had work the next morning, and so their livelihood depended on a safe return home.

The volunteers of Chankhola Bazaar hosted breakfast for us with puffed rice and molasses. I sincerely thanked the volunteers and bid them a safe return to Bhuapur.

From Chankhola Bazaar we moved onward to Sehrabari. Some of the local volunteers from Chankhola carried the cargo and accompanied us. As we had decided previously, we offloaded half of the arms and ammunition at Angarkhola Bazaar for storage.

At about six in the morning, we arrived at the residence of Abdul Basit Siddiqui, a member of the Provincial Assembly. We had about seventy-five volunteers with us. Kader greeted us warmly. The modern arms and ammunition we had brought with us excited him and the other freedom fighters. In his book Shadhinata 71, Siddiqui writes:

After about two weeks, I saw Nuran Nabi and Nurul Islam again at six in the morning on July 9th. Overjoyed, I embraced them. I was so moved by their safe and successful return that I repeatedly said, “With such committed and brave colleagues, victory was certainly

ours.” (p. 262) I handed over the letter from General Gill to Kader. In the letter General Gill congratulated Kader on his success in fighting the enemy within the country. He went on to assure Kader that the Tangail Mukti Bahini would receive as much support as possible from the Indian Army. He concluded by expressing his desire to see Kader in a liberated Bangladesh very soon.

Arrangements for lunch for the volunteers were made at Basit Siddiqui’s house. Kader himself supervised the luncheon. After we ate, Kader thanked the volunteers.

The supplies I brought from India included several light machineguns, rifles, thousands of grenades, bullets of various calibers, hundreds of mines, several wireless sets, and a large quantity of explosives. Unfortunately, we had no detonators.

As stated earlier, on our way from India to Bhuapur, one of t.e six boats accidentally went off-course in the darkness. At a huge intersection on the Jamuna River, near Jagannathganj Ferry Station, the boat lost its way and ended up in the opposite direction, rather than following us to Bhuapur. Unfortunately, all of our detonators were loaded onto this one boat. Overall, we had a very successful mission, but this one setback disappointed me a little.

Conspiracy in Aschim The arms and ammunition were properly stored and concealed in secret places. Then Kader proceeded with his team to Aschim Bazaar under the Phulbari Police Station in the Mymensingh District. I accompanied him along with Basit, Nurul, and Moazzem. The journey was on foot. At about eight in the evening, we reached Lahorer Baid Village, some five miles on the east of Sagardighi and there we stopped at the camp of Commander Laltu and Commander Idris.

About four hundred freedom fighters, trained in India, had arrived to Aschim with explosives and detonators. Kader sent a group of four freedom fighters from the communication company, lead by Commander Abdul Khaleque to Aschim Bazaar. Their mission was to establish contact with these freedom fighters in order to obtain detonators.

Khaleque was a very ambitious person. After arriving at Aschim, Khaleque relinquished his responsibilities and conspired to instigate the freedom fighters to rise against Kader. Kader got wind of Khaleque’s mutinous-intent and betrayal through his own intelligence sources. So, he proceeded to Aschim in order to further investigate the problem.

He sent a message conveying that he would meet the freedom fighters from India on July 1oth. By then Kader had deployed about a thousand freedom fighters around Aschim.

We ate dinner at the camp of Commander Laltu and Commander Idris. After dinner, we convened for a meeting to review the situation at Aschim. At the meeting were Commander Abdul Hakim, Monirul Islam, Golam Sarwar, Laltu, Idris, Basit Siddiqui, Nurul Islam, Moazzem, and I.

The meeting began with the deliberations of three reputable intelligence personnel, namely Bachhu, Sabur and Kashem. They cautioned that they had information from reliable sources that

Khaleque had been engaged in a conspiracy against Kader. Khaleque would try to kill Kader in order to become the leader of the Mukti Bahini. This news instantly sparked angry reactions amongst the attendees of the meeting. However, elaborate discussions soon followed.

We all agreed that any conspiracy should be handled swiftly and promptly. In a war, the prerequisite for success is to uphold strict discipline and maintain the chain of command. Indiscipline could not be tolerated. Moreover, Aschim was a very strategic location, northeast of the liberated Eastern Zone. The area was tactically significant in maintaining the safety of the Kader Bahini headquarters. Allowing the presence of any opposing or untrustworthy groups in this area posed a great risk that we were simply not willing to take.

In spite of unanimity on this point, we were divided on whether or not Kader himself should go to Aschim the next day. Though we had good reinforcements around Aschim, many thought that there was too much at risk, and felt that Kader should cancel his visit. Instead, they felt the better move was to allow the freedom fighters to find a military solution to Khaleque and his mutiny.

Despite these sentiments, some of us, including me, disagreed. We felt that conflicts among freedom fighters should be avoided and addressed peacefully.

Quoting information from one of the intelligence sources, I said that the four hundred soldiers trained in India were very simple men, but patriotic in nature. They were most probably, not even aware of Khaleque’s conspiracy. Moreover, they should be informed of our connection with the governments of Bangladesh and India. If they came to know and experience the personality of Kader Siddiqui, they would most likely shun any plot of Khaleque’s.

Kader listened to our suggestions and said we must try to avoid any conflict within the Mukti Bahini itself. He must try to resolve the crisis, even if it meant, risking his own life. And so, he had no choice, but to proceed to Aschim the next morning. We accepted his decision, but mentioned the importance of moving cautiously. He reminded us of the responsibilities of each commander and instructed them to go back to their respective camps. He asked them to be prepared to face any situation.

The next day, at eight in the morning, Kader sent a team to Aschim, led by Commander Idris, to inform the freedom fighters

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there that Commander Kader Siddiqui was on his way. This was done, so as not to take them by surprise.

Idris visited the freedom fighters at Aschim Bazaar camp in the morning. He had tea and breakfast with them before returning to our camp. Soon after, hundreds of freedom fighters from various camps made their way to Aschim Bazaar under the leadership of commanders Laltu, Munir, and Sarwar. The commanders showed the freedom fighters that had returned from India a great deal of warmth and respect. They established a solid foundation of camaraderie.

At 9 A.M., Kader proceeded to Aschim Bazaar, accompanied by Basit, Nurul, Moazzem, and I. For our safety, a handful of courageous freedom fighters were specially selected to accompany us. They were: Abdus Sabur, Saidur Rahman, Arif Ahmed Dulal, Abdul Halim, Moqbul Hossain Khoka, Shamsu, Ferdous Alam Ranju, Abdul Quddus, Amjad, Masud, Kashem, and Rafiq. They were all equipped with automatic weapons.

Under the tight security of these freedom fighters, we reached the Aschim Bazaar camp at nine-thirty. There, Commander Abdul Mannan, and his deputy, Mozammel Huq greeted us warmly. They along with other commanders, received Kader.

There was an assembly of nearly fifteen hundred freedom fighters at Aschim Bazaar. We ourselves were about eleven hundred. The remaining four hundred were those who had recently returned from India.

We met with the commanders of the freedom fighters in a room. They insisted that we have breakfast with them. They served us parata, a fried flat bread, and meat curry, which they prepared fresh in their mess hall.

A special security force lead by Commander Sabur was assigned to protect Kader Siddiqui. Two layers of defense always surrounded Kader Siddiqui. Moreover, several freedom fighter platoons were positioned around the bazaar area.

Though at first glance, our freedom fighters seemed relaxed and just part of the scenery, these soldiers carefully scoped the perimeter and were prepared to react to any situation.

Khaleque, the man we suspected to be a defector and betrayer was nowhere in sight. While, we were all drinking tea, he suddenly appeared.

It was just two weeks ago, that he was a loyal freedom fighter who

invoked Kader as “Sir” and always showed his respect to military rank. However, on this morning things were very different. He was not his respectful-self. He didn’t even say good morning to us. He was not the man we thought we knew.

Khaleque unexpectedly approached Kader and introduced himself as the commander of the Aschim Bazaar Mukti Bahini camp. Kader did not respond to his audacity and arrogance.

Rather he calmly remarked, “I am pleased to see that you are leading these men, but I would have been prouder of you had you simply completed your original mission.”

Kader continued to state that his primary reason for coming to Aschim Bazaar was to establish contact with the new freedom fighters from India. Furthermore, he ensured that he would provide assistance in times of need.

He said, “During these tumultuous times, unless we each seek to help out one another, we would be sure to face serious problems.”

Kader went on to say, “By now, we have in our possession, a large quantity of explosives. However, without detonators, these explosives are useless. I sent you here to get detonators. I would have been happy if you had simply done just that.”

Khaleque replied, “Well, we don’t have any detonators!”

However, unbeknown to Khaleque, engineers from his camp had already informed us that they, indeed, had detonators. By lying to our faces, his betrayal became evident.

Khaleque was quite unnerved by the assembly of so many armed freedom fighters at Aschim Bazaar. Furthermore, I was sure that he felt the presence of even more soldiers, beyond the perimeter of Aschim Bazaar.

Despite the negative image Khaleque’s lies had painted of us, the freedom fighters from India found us to be very warm and friendly. In no time, they had changed their minds.

Kader called the freedom fighters to assemble at the bazaar grounds. As a measure of security, members of our troops lined up in front of the Aschim Bazaar freedom fighters. Sabur’s team positioned itself at the rear.

Kader made a passionate speech by extending his friendship to the freedom fighters from India.

He introduced me to the crowd and told them how I had established contact with the Indian government and the Bangladesh government in Mujibnagar. He ensured that both governments were

committed to assisting us in anyway possible.

As a token of goodwill from the Kader Bahini, Kader donated a box of LMG magazines for the Aschim Bazaar camp. The freedom fighters responded with applause. They showed their support for Kader by chanting slogans into the air.

After seeing the strength we had established in-and-around Aschim Bazaar; after seeing the camaraderie forged between the two camps, and after seeing the leadership of Kader Siddiqui, it became abundantly obvious to the cunning Khaleque that his conspiracy had failed.

Upon this new epiphany, Khaleque quickly changed his tune. He reverted to his old self and overtly expressed his loyalty to Kader. But it was too late; he had lost our trust.

The freedom fighters from India expressed their allegiance to Kader and reciprocated Kader’s promise to provide assistance in times of need. Backing up this statement, the freedom fighters secretly provided us with detonators. By doing so, these freedom fighters were successful in completing Khaleque’s once failed mission.

Returning to Sehrabari We were all relieved to see that the encounter at Aschim Bazaar went so smoothly. We left Aschim Bazaar for Laltu and Idris’s camp. It was just a few miles away.

We ate lunch at Laltu’s camp and left for Sehrabari. The presence of more than one thousand freedom fighters greatly encouraged the people in the area. Along the way, people spontaneously gathered around us and Kader was asked to address several impromptu meetings.

At four in the afternoon, we arrived at Sagardighi where a public meeting was organized. A large number of people had assembled. Before the start of the meeting, a contingent of uniformed freedom fighters lead by Commander Sarwar conducted an honor guard for Kader.

Moazzem, Basit, and I addressed the audience. It was my first time speaking in a public meeting. I was incredibly nervous and anxious. My throat was dry. I was trembling. Slowly, my mouth opened and I addressed the crowd.

I spoke about my mission to India and its success. I tried to

mention Bangabandhu’s name as many times as possible. I knew that it would please the crowd. Nonetheless, it was a very brief speech. As I closed, I shouted one last time, “Joy Bangla!”

As I finished, Kader Siddiqui stepped forward. It was his turn to address the crowd. A remarkable orator, he moved the crowd with an eloquent and emotional speech. He sought the help, cooperation, and blessings of the public. He reiterated to them that our battle was their battle. Our victory was their victory.

After the meeting we proceeded to Sehrabari. Basit Siddiqui, a middle aged man and a member of the Provincial Assembly, challenged the rest of us to a race. Surprised by his challenge, we skeptically accepted. We thought to ourselves, “How was a man in his mid-fifties expecting to keep pace with those of us who were nearly half his age?”

Two hours and nine miles later, we arrived at Sehrabari. Amazingly, Basit Siddiqui was right in the middle of the pack. The whole way through he never fell a step-behind.

We spent the night at Basit Siddiqui’s house in Sehrabari. The next morning, I accompanied Kader to the headquarters of the Mukti Bahini. Nurul and Basit were also with us. At eleven-thirty in the morning we reached the headquarters.

For Nurul, Moazzem, Basit, and I, this was our first visit to the headquarters. We had been traveling from July 5th to July uth.

On the 5th, Nurul and I began our trip from Mankachar and crossed a distance of about one hundred miles by boat to reach Bhuapur. From Bhuapur to the headquarters we had traveled another hundred miles by foot. In total, we had traveled more than two hundred miles in just under six days. It was an extraordinary journey.

Looking back, it all seems unbelievable.

Mukti Bahini Headquarters After we reached the headquarters, Shaheed gave me a bear hug and started dancing in joy. The extraordinary success of the Indian mission had moved everyone. They treated me like a hero. I modestly mentioned that I had only performed my duties.

I was introduced to everybody at the headquarters. I had met some of them earlier at Bhuapur. Later that day around noon, Kader had a meeting with all of us and provided some new guidelines regarding the day-to-day operations of the headquarters. He also

reviewed some organizational issues. In the afternoon, he went out for a quick visit to the Mukti Bahini camps at Hateya, Bashkhali, Hatubhanga, Kalikoir, Phulbari, Kachina and Katamore. I stayed behind at the headquarters.

The headquarters of the Tangail Mukti Bahini was housed in a primary school at Mahanandapur. This was a remote fortress, deep in the jungles between Madhupur and Bhawalgar. It was difficult to access by foot, and completely impossible by vehicle.

Ditches protected three sides of the school. Even the slightest bit of rainfall transformed them into formidable moats. The building was engulfed in thick jungle. To the west, there were two dwellings. To the east, there were four houses at least a mile away. It was a truly difficult place to reach. A stronghold such as this needed only a simple defense to hold off even the most powerful of attacks. It would be impossible for an enemy to occupy it.

The headquarters looked like a well-organized office. There were designated chairs and desks for Kader, Shaheed, and others. There was an iron safe in one corner. A large portrait of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was hanging on the wall. The maps of Bangladesh and Tangail District were hanging adjacent to it. Red and blue pins indicated the positions of the Pakistani forces and the Mukti Bahini, respectively.

The headquarters were responsible for: coordinating the activities and communication of the Mukti Bahini and the volunteers; recruiting and training of the Mukti Bahini; public relations; collecting information on the enemy as well as maintaining the discipline of the Mukti Bahini and the management of the accounts of the income and the expenditure of the Mukti Bahini.

Anwar-ul Alam Shaheed Shaheed was in charge of coordinating all activities of the Mukti Bahini from the headquarters. Additionally, he was responsible for the civil administration of the liberated zone.

Before the war, he was the general secretary of Salimullah Muslim Hall Student Union of Dhaka University and a member of the Central Committee of the Student League. He was also a leader of the Student League at Karotia Sadat College and Tangail District. As a member of the Boy Scouts, Shaheed had traveled to several foreign countries.

Shaheed was quite popular and respected amongst the Mukti

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Bahini for his unique background. Kader Siddiqui himself treated Shaheed with respect and entrusted him with the responsibility of running the headquarters.

Shaheed utilized his experience in student politics to perform his duties skillfully. He was known for his organizing abilities, his modesty, friendliness and genteel manner.

He never misused the powers at his disposal. Shaheed’s great organizing ability complemented Kader’s extraordinary military leadership. This was one of the reasons for the success of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

After the independence of Bangladesh, Shaheed became the Deputy Director of the Rakkhi Bahini. Later, he served as the Bangladesh ambassador to several countries, including Spain.

The Mukti Bahini Hospital The day after my arrival to the headquarters, Shaheed and others took me to visit the Mukti Bahini Hospital. The Mukti Bahini had converted a house into a hospital. It was just a few miles away from the headquarters, in Andhi Village.

Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury, a fifth year student of Mymensingh Medical College and Dr. Sisir Ranjan Saha, provided medical treatment. Amjad, a former schoolteacher, coordinated the operations.

When we reached the hospital, we found six wounded freedom fighters undergoing treatment. Habibur Rahman Khoka of Tengpuria and Anwar Hossain of Rampur were among them. Enemy mortar shells had seriously wounded these two brave freedom fighters during a battle in Kamutia. The other four had sustained minor injuries.

Additional people who were also involved in the activities of the hospital were: Dr. Amal Krishna Sarkar, Ratan, Bimal, Nizamuddin, Abdul Majid, Mostafa, Sirajul Islam, Belayet Hossain, Shukur Mamud, Osman Ghani, Mofizur Rahman and Motaleb. Shawkat Momen Shahjahan and Hamidul Huq were in charge of collecting medical supplies.

One West Pakistani Pathan, a trader of bidi and tobacco leaves, also extended his help in running the hospital. He supplied medicine from Tangail and Dhaka. Osman Gani, a student of Dhaka University looked after the food supply.

Training Camp of Mukti Bahini The next day we went to inspect the Mukti Bahini training camp. The camp covered about a square mile and was located four miles south of the headquarters. An open field surrounded by heavy forest was used for training. To the unknowing eye, it would not appear obvious that this was a training camp.

The camp was tightly secured and carefully monitored. Several freedom fighters were perched on the canopies of trees as they maintained surveillance over the surrounding area. Subsequently, there were several checkpoints positioned throughout the encompassing lands.

I was amazed to see the training camp operate so efficiently.

I had read about the Vietnam War and was intrigued by the ability of the Vietcong to fortify their positions. However, visiting the camp I realized, we too, held an advantageous position against our enemy

As we reached the training site, the commander of the camp, Swapan Bhattacharyya, a policeman in his early twenties, welcomed us. He gave us a thorough tour of the facility.

About one hundred freedom fighters were being trained on-site. Small tin sheds were erected under the trees to provide sleeping accommodations for the freedom fighters. Commander Shahjahan spearheaded the establishment of this training camp and from what I could see; he had done a commendable job.

Wireless Station The wireless station was installed about two miles from the headquarters in the house of a woodcutter named Ingraj. Wirelesssets were captured during the raids on Pakistani police stations. The Mukti Bahini used these sets to create an improvised system for wireless communication.

Anisur Rahman of Bakbajan was in charge of the wireless station. He was a wireless operator by trade. He performed his duty very diligently to repair, maintain, and operate the wireless station. The wireless operators of Tangail and its surrounding occupied areas had helped the liberation war by passing information to the Mukti Bahini via secret codes.

Mohu Sardar The next day, I stepped out from the headquarters with Shaheed, Nuru, and Faruk

As we walked, Shaheed says, “In the last two days, I have shown you the training camp and the hospital. Today I will introduce you to someone special. I am taking you to a special place.”

I was curious about our destination and the identity of whom Shaheed wanted me to meet.

However, despite my efforts, Shaheed would only smirk and say, “Wait a little, you will find out soon enough.”

We came to a compound about a mile away from the headquarters. Two freedom fighters welcomed us at the entrance. As we stepped into the yard of the house, a tall bulky man came out. He was about six and half feet tall with the physique of Mr. Universe. He was a middle-aged man with a thick beard. He greeted us with a military salute. Shaheed introduced him to us as Mohu Sardar, the jailor of the Mukti Bahini. In fact, the outer house of the compound was, in actuality, the prison-house of the Mukti Bahini.

In order to maintain law and order in the liberated zones, criminals were imprisoned in this jail. Freedom fighters accused of misconduct were also temporarily imprisoned here. Mohu Sardar had an assistant. His name was Ansar Ali. During our visit, there was only one ordinary criminal imprisoned in the jail.

Eventually, I came to know more about Mohu Sardar in detail. His life story was quite fascinating. Before the war, Mohu was known throughout the area as a notorious bandit. He was the perpetrator behind several robberies across the country and even across the border in Assam, India. He had a network of more than three hundred bandits all over the country working for him.

In order to take part in the liberation war, he voluntarily went to Kader Siddiqui.

In an attempt to test Mohu’s integrity, Kader said, “Look, if I shoot you now presuming that you are a Razakar, what would you do?”

Mohu replied, “Though I admit I am a criminal, I want nothing more than to repay my debt by fighting the enemy and liberating my country. And if, after all that I’ve said, you still want to kill me, do so, but know that arresting me isn’t an option. There hasn’t been a prison built that I can’t escape from

Despite Mohu’s criminal history, when we met him, he did not give off the impression that he was a man that we could not trust.

Mohu Sardar performed his duties for the Mukti Bahini with absolute dedication.

After the liberation of the country, Kader Siddiqui entrusted Mohu as his personal bodyguard. For many years Mohu was Kader’s shadow. He was the perfect person for this particular responsibility,

Commander Khalilur Rahman The company commander, Khalilur Rahman was in charge of security and defense for the headquarters. Khalilur Rahman defected from the Pakistani naval forces. He was a local. His house was located in a nearby village called Saira Baid, just a mile away from the headquarters. He knew the forests, roads, and alleys of this area like the palm of his hand. Those who assisted him were: Abdur Razzak of Hamidpur, Muniruzzaman Sanu, a student of Dhaka College, Abdul Mannan and Biren Barman of Kalihati Lalmohan, “Junior” Abdullah of Kachua, and many others.

The Commanders of the Mukti Bahini At the start of the Tangail Mukti Bahini there were only about one thousand freedom fighters. However, by July of 1971, this number rose to more than ten thousand and eventually grew to seventeen thousand. In order to conduct a disciplined war, this huge number of freedom fighters was divided into several companies. The commanders of different companies were as follows: Manirul Islam, Lokman Hossain, Abdul Gafur, Labib Rahman (martyred), Laltu, Sarwar, Fazlur Rahman, Nabi Newaz, Shawkat Momen Shahjahan, Habibur Rahman (Bir Bikram), Abdul Hakim, Sabur Khan, Matiur Rahman, Mokaddes, Azad Kamal, Habi, Afsaruddin, Abdur Razzak, Benu, Golam Mostafa, Bayezid, Saidur Rahman, Humayun, Angur, Fazlu, Moqbul Hossain, Khorshed Alam, Rezaul Karim, Amanullah, Idris, Ferdous Alam Ronju, Halim, Shamsul, Taser Ali, Solemen, Gazi Lutfor Rahman, Tara, Anis, Yunus, Arzoo, Nurul Islam, Chand Miah, Riaz, Shah Alam, Sultan, Moin, and Mozzamel.

Commander Abdur Razzak The Mukti Bahini commanders represented different strata of society. They came from various professional institutions. Some

were military men, but many others were teachers, industrial laborers, politicians, students, and even farmers. Abdur Razzak was a student leader of Mymensingh Agricultural University. Gentle, polite, and always smiling, Razzak performed his duties as a commander with the utmost dedication. After the war, he earned a Ph.D. from the United States and then returned to Bangladesh to become a high government official. Now he is the Minister of Food and Disaster Management for the Bangladesh government and a Member of Parliament.

Volunteers’ Groups Arranging food for the seventeen thousand freedom fighters of the Tangail Mukti Bahini was an enormous and crucial task. Thousands of volunteers worked to ensure that these men were always fed. Every village had established a group of volunteers dedicated to this responsibility. The total number of volunteers rose to about seventy thousand before the end of the war. The volunteer-leaders whose names I still remember were: Hamidul Haq, Khorshed Master, Awal Siddiqui, Khorshed Alam in the Eastern Zone, and Abdul Alim, Bhola, Moazzem Hossain Khan, and Dudu Mia in the Western Zone.

Shawkat Momen Shahjahan The secret of the Tangail Mukti Bahini’s success lay in the hills of Tangail and the courageous hearts of the patriotic people who lived there. The people of the hilly area played a critical role in the organization of the Mukti Bahini, the establishment of the headquarters, and the implementation of other essential activities. Those who played important roles in these activities were: Hamidul Haq, Shawkat Momen Shahjahan, Commander Idris, Awal Siddiqui, Abdul Barit Siddiqui, Amjad Master, Commander Khalil, Khorshed Alam R. O., Khorshed Master, Ali Pagla, and Khoka.

Of them, Shawkat Momen Shahjahan was a distinguished character. Before the war, he was a student leader of Mymensingh Agricultural University. Aside from his contribution to the formation of the Tangail Mukti Bahini in its early stages, another anecdote surrounding Shawkat comes to mind.

Shawkat’s father was the chairman of the local union council. The Mukti Bahini had arrested him on accusations of collaborating

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with the Pakistani Army. At the time, Shawkat was a commander of the Mukti Bahini.

Despite being very anxious and concerned for his father’s wellbeing, Shawkat, at no point, sought favor to have his father released.

Ultimately, after a thorough investigation, the Mukti Bahini released his father. Subsequently his father worked to help the freedom fighters in every way possible.

Shawkat, much like his father, was confronted with a similar test of character. One day Shawkat was blind-sided when a few of the local villagers filed complaints against him. As a result of the accusations, Shawkat was relieved of his duties and temporarily imprisoned.

Despite this, after serving his term in prison, Shawkat rejoined the Mukti Bahini and performed his duties with valor and commitment. This patriotic freedom fighter passed two difficult tests in the nine months of the liberation war.

Later, in the 1980’s, Shawkat Momen Shahjahan was elected to the Bangladesh Parliament on the Awami League party ticket. Currently, he is a member of the Bangladesh Parliament and chairman of the parliamentary committee of the ministry of agriculture.

Fighting All Around Our headquarters was situated in a dense forest stretching some sixty to seventy miles, north to south and some twenty to thirty miles, east to west. The forest was known as Madhupur-Bhawalgar.

As a first-line of defense for the liberated Eastern Zone, several permanent defense posts had been established. In the west, posts were located at Deopara against the Kalihati Pakistani Police Station and in Dhalapara against the Ghatail Police Station.

To the southwest, posts were located at Ballah and Pahartali, against the Basail Pakistani Police Station. To the north, defense was located at Rangamati while posts at Aschim and Bhaluka provided coverage from the east. Lastly, a southern post, located at Patharghata, provided additional support against the Basail Police Station

These units had been located strategically to counter attacks from the enemy-occupied police headquarters. Regular attacks were conducted on Pakistani forces from these posts.

As a second-line of defense for our headquarters, Commander Khalilur Rahman’s company was specifically deployed to ensure security

Initially, the Mukti Bahini had adopted a “hit and run” strategy. However, by July we had obtained a large reinforcement of weapons and ammunition from India. The Mukti Bahini was ready to do more than just safeguard its own position. We were ready to engage in aggressive offensives attacks against the enemy. The Pakistani Army could no longer rest on its laurels.

Irritated by our new tactics, the Pakistani forces retaliated with stronger counterattacks. From July 1th to the 24th, the enemy attacked several of our frontal-posts. Many of these attacks were very intense and resulted in fierce battles with our forces.

On July 18th, the enemy attempted to probe our strengths and attacked our outpost at Deopara. We had already gathered information on enemy movement from Kalihati. In response, Commander Lokman moved some of his forces a few miles ahead and re-positioned them at Birbasunda. There they ambushed the enemy.

As a result, the enemy was forced to stop. However, when they attempted to retreat, the Mukti Bahini ambushed them again at Birbasunda, Kosturipara, and Deonaghat. Commander Lokman orchestrated this valiant counter attack.

More than one hundred Pakistani soldiers and Razakars were killed or injured in the attack. Armed with the automatic weapons brought from India, we were finally fighting on an even ground. At last, the enemy had gotten its first taste of what we, the Mukti Bahini, were capable of.

Meanwhile, at the headquarters, we were alerted of an imminent attack by Pakistani forces. Accordingly, we took cautionary measures to defend our headquarters. However, by evening we came to learn of the Mukti Bahini’s victory on the battlefield. We were overjoyed.

The next morning we awoke to the sound of heavy gunfire. Our headquarters trembled in the quaking-sounds of exploding mortars shells. We were alarmed. In a report briefing we learned that in response to the previous day’s defeat, Pakistani forces moved ahead ferociously towards Deopara with six-pounder-mortars and 120 mm machineguns. The Mukti Bahini forces were waiting for them inside their bunkers.

At about 11 AM, a mortar shell fell near the bunker of Commander Lokman. It was nearly a direct hit. His gun was destroyed and the bunker was completely devastated. Commander Lokman was partially buried under the rubble of the bunker. The freedom fighters rescued their commander by pulling him out from under the debris.

Commander Lokman strategically retreated to Dhalapara and reconstructed new bunkers on the bank of the Bangshai River.

In the evening we were informed that our Deopara outpost had fallen to the enemy. However, Commander Lokman narrowly escaped to safety. Kader Siddiqui was then stationed at Kalamegha, some fifteen miles away from the headquarters. We informed him of the events of the day. He quickly arrived at the Mukti Bahini post at Dholapara the next morning. Every one was reassured and enthused by the sight of their commander.

Kader Siddiqui instructed the freedom fighters to use guerilla tactics to intensify our offensives strikes on the enemy. That same night, he returned to the headquarters.

The enemy continued its assault on other fronts. On July 19th, they attacked Bhaluka post in the east. Commander Afsar put up a heroic resistance. The enemy was forced to retreat after an entire day of ceaseless fighting.

On July 22nd, a team of freedom fighters, under the leadership of Commander Motiur Rahman, ambushed a patrolling Pakistani contingent near Basail police station. In the span of just a few minutes, five Pakistani soldiers were killed, and the Mukti Bahini seized their weapons.

The next day, the Pakistani Army retaliated. Desperately, they deployed two companies armed with heavy mortars and attacked Commander Motiur Rahman’s position.

Commander Matiur Rahman and Commander Mokaddes were forced to retreat and reestablished their outposts at Banshtoli and Ratonpur, three miles away.

Attack on Shutrapur Bridge On June 29th, the Mukti Bahini achieved an important victory under the leadership of Commanders Khorshed Alam, Pulak Sarkar, and Mohendra Ghosh. That night, the Mukti Bahini executed an attack with lightening speed and captured the Shutrapur Bridge

located thirty-miles from Dhaka on the Dhaka-Tangail Road. The Razakars guarding the bridge were taken prisoner by freedom

ters.

Habib and Bari of Jamalpur were Mukti Bahini explosive experts. In just a few minutes, they had blasted the bridge. These two were among the freedom fighters that had initially visited my house in Juce upon their return from India. Together we joined Kader Siddiqui at the Bhuapur Mukti Bahini camp.

The blast was heard across the surrounding area. Its tremors spanned north of Dhaka to Tangail, including our headquarters,

is was the first blast of this magnitude felt in this area. The people were frightened.

Unfortunately, the freedom fighters were not equipped with enough explosives. Only part of the bridge actually collapsed. However, it was enough to disrupt the movement of Pakistani forces.

This event generated an enormous amount of publicity. The blast took place only about thirty miles from Pakistani military headquaters.

On June 30th and July 1st, the BBC, the Voice of America, Akashvani, and Free Bangla Radio broadcasted this news across their bulletins. This blast echoed far beyond the ears of the Pakistani military cantonment. The whole world now knew of the resistance brought forth by the freedom fighters of the Tangail Mukti Bahini and their leader, Kader Siddiqui.

A Black Chapter At the end of June, a shameful incident took place at Kedarpur under the jurisdiction of Nagarpur Police Station. This was a black chapter in the annals of the liberation war.

On June 25th, a team of freedom fighters took over Nagarpur Police Station headquarters in a rapid assault. Commanders Labib Rahman, Sarowar, and Laltu led the operation. After the police surrendered, the Mukti Bahini captured their arms, ammunition, and wireless sets.

Soon after, Commander Labib Rahman learned of a group of freedom fighters in the area under the leadership of Commander Abdul Baten. He was informed that Baten’s group was interested in joining his company. However, Kader had previously warned Labib of the existence of splinter groups. Despite this, Labib was

encouraged by the possibility of expanding his company.

The next morning, two of Baten’s deputies, Shahjahan and Shahjada, came to Labib’s camp with two other commanders. They handed over a letter from Baten. The letter was an invitation to Labib asking him to come to Baten’s camp. There, Commander Baten would announce that his group would join Commander Labib’s company.

Commander Labib was an honest and simple person. He was not the type of man to suspect foul play from such an invitation. And so, the following day he proceeded towards Baten’s camp accompanied by two of his co-fighters. Baten’s camp was one and a half miles away.

As Labib and his companions neared the camp, shots came at them from hidden alleys between nearby dwellings. Commander Labib and his co-fighter Jahangir were killed instantly. The third soldier who accompanied Labib kept a distance from Labib and was luckily unscathed by the ambush.

He then opened fire in the direction of the attack. After a brief counterattack, the soldier retreated and ran back to the Mukti Bahini camp to report the killing of Labib and Jahangir.

Commander Sarowar and Laltu rushed to the ambush location with their troops. They found the bloodstained spot, but could not find the bodies of their dead comrades. The villagers reported that they had seen some armed individuals flee from that vicinity. The freedom fighters combed the area for the bodies of these two valiant sons of Bangladesh for two days. Unfortunately they were never recovered. This event deeply shocked Kader and everyone else.

I heard the story from Faruk, a staff worker at the headquarters. He wiped his tears as he narrated the tragedy. Jahangir was a close friend of Faruk from his boyhood days. They grew up together and developed a loving and faithful friendship.

I was also deeply hurt by this incident. We lost two of our valiant freedom fighters, not to the Pakistani enemy, not to traitorous Razakars, but to some miscreants masquerading as freedom fighters.

Eventually we learned that Baten was not present in the area at the time of the incident. He was across the border in India. The letter sent in Baten’s name was a forgery. Nonetheless, there was no doubt that Shahjada and Shahjahan, the men who brought the letter were a part of Baten’s group.

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Guerilla Operation at Tangail Town Dy August, almost all of the pro-Pakistani Bengalis had left their homes in the areas liberated by the Mukti Bahini. They took shelter in Tangail town, which was still occupied by Pakistani forces. At that time, Tangail town was the location of training sites for Razakars

In order to intimidate the Pakistani soldiers and their collaborators, a commando force was formed to launch a grenade attack on the enemy. Some young and gallant residents of the town were recruited to join this special freedom fighter group. They were fully aware of the risks that they would be taking, but joined the group anyway.

Some of the freedom fighters in this group were Baku, Salauddin, Abul Kalam, Minu, Abdul Sabur, and Helu. By the end of June, they had received their supply of grenades and left the headquarters to take their positions at Tangail town. They took shelter at different hideouts. Some hid in their own houses, while others took cover in their relative’s homes.

On July 2nd, commando Baku threw a grenade at the jeep of a Pakistani Colonel, but unfortunately he missed his target. However, the sound of the blast shook the entire town. Baku was captured by the enemy and was taken into police custody. Before the enemy could proceed with an interrogation, Baku requested the use of the Lavatory. With the guard’s attention directed to leading Baku to the bathroom, Baku quickly struck the guard rendering him unconscious. Baku was able to flee from captivity. Baku saved himself from certain death.

On July 14th, commando Minu threw a grenade at a bus running towards Tangail town. This attack was enough to cancel the final examination for the Secondary School Certificate scheduled for that day. It was common for the occupation forces to create the appearance that life was normal in Bangladesh. This included scheduling school examinations in battle zones. Minu’s grenade attack disrupted the “normalcy” that the enemy foisted upon the Bengali people.

On July 23rd, Baku was involved in another valiant guerilla operation. This time commando Kalam was with him. Kalam was riding a motorcycle while Baku sat in the rear. As they came in front of a Tangail power station, Baku threw a grenade at a group of five Pakistani guards. Plumes of smoke followed a loud explosion. The five guards were killed, but the eruption alerted other Pakistani

soldiers. The soldiers attempted to follow the commandoes, but Kalam and Baku adroitly escaped using the narrow alleys and lanes, which they knew like the backs of their hands.

The next day, about three hundred trained Pakistani collaborators had been enjoying a film at Rupbani cinema hall. Commando Minu and Anis Junior were also among the audience members. It was an Urdu film show. During a fighting scene, Minu and Anis threw grenades inside the hall, which resulted in twelve Razakar casualties and more than one hundred Razakar injuries. Fortunately, Minu and Anis escaped safely during the commotion.

On July 30th, two commandoes, Haider and Bachchu launched yet another commando grenade attack. This time it was on a truck carrying Razakars. These two commandoes were adolescents, no older than sixteen. They noticed that every morning, Razakars were brought in and out from their camp in trucks as a part of a routine change of shifts.

In the early hours of the morning, Haider and Bachchu saw two trucks on the move. They positioned themselves on a banyan tree and threw two grenades at them. Both trucks were destroyed with shards of metal splintering from the truck cabins. Fortunately, Haider and Bachchu had hid themselves so high on the branches of the tree that they were unhurt. They climbed down at an opportune moment and then returned to headquarters.

These repeated grenade attacks by the commandoes not only killed a number of Pakistani soldiers and their collaborators, but it greatly frightened the supporters of Pakistan who had taken shelter at Tangail town. The occupation army once felt quite safe in Tangail town. However, with the execution of these attacks, the enemy began feeling insecure. They were haunted by the thought of potential freedom fighters lurking around every corner.

While the grenade operation brought us some success, it came at a hefty cost. In a subsequent operation, the Pakistani Army captured Baku and Kalam. However, this time Baku wasn’t as lucky as he was before. He had to pay the price for escaping from Pakistani captivity. In enemy custody, Baku was tortured to death. The fearless commando, Baku became a martyr for his country.

Kalam was put to unbearable physical torture in order to force him to divulge information on the Tangail Mukti Bahini and their leader Kader Siddiqui. His statement was aired on television and radio in an attempt to mislead people. However, Kalam was very

intelligent. He carefully chose his words in such a way that he did not compromise the security of the Mukti Bahini.

The Pakistanis kept Kalam alive because they wanted to use him as an agent for propaganda. Nonetheless, Kalam was too clever to fall to such exploits.

After the independence of Bangladesh, Kalam was released from prison.

Thad some memorable experiences at the headquarters from July 11th to the 21st. Kader returned to the headquarters again on July 21st and discussed with us the latest situations on the frontlines.

Pakistani forces were growing desperate day-by-day and began mounting continuous pressure on us. We were greatly in need of additional arms and ammunition, particularly mortars and rocketlaunchers. Once again I would have to go to India to garner more supplies. This time Nuru and Basit would accompany me.

Second Mission to India On July 24th, I left for India from Mohanadapur headquarters. The next day, Basit, Nuru, and I arrived at Bhuapur, our main outpost in the Western Zone. On July 26th, in accordance with Kader’s

instructions, I convened over an important meeting of the Mukti Bahaini commanders, civilian administration officers, and volunteer groups. Among the commanders who attended the meeting were Habibur Rahman, Abdul Gafur, Khorshed Alam, Rezaul Karim Tarafdar Humayun, Benu, and Amanullah. Enayet Karim, Moazzem Hossain Khan, and Nurul Islam represented the civilian administration. Basit and I represented the headquarters.

At the meeting, we decided that we needed to fortify our defense at Bhuapur in the same way we had done in the Eastern Zone. Strategically, Bhuapur was a very important location. It allowed us to bring supplies directly in from India, via the Jamuna River.

was further decided that from then on, grenade strikes on enemy bases in Tangail would be conducted from our Bhuapur outpost as well.

On July 29th Basit, Nuru, and I boarded a small boat and set sail for India. We headed upstream through the Jamuna River towards Mankachar, India. Our goal was to follow the same route that I had traversed during my return from India to Bhuapur on July 7th.

Refugees had been using this route to flee to India since the

military onslaught on civilians began.

The wind was in our favor. We were nearing Bahadurabad Ferry Station. It had been a productive day’s journey.

The Jamuna River was quite wide in these parts. Once again, we were sailing alongside the west bank of the river to hide from the public. Unlike the eastern bank, the western side of the river was completely barren. There were no inhabitants, only the many sandislands.

It was a sunny morning. However as the afternoon crept in, darkdense clouds suddenly appeared across the horizon. Within a few minutes the wind started bellowing. We found ourselves amidst a torrential downpour of what looked like the beginnings of a violent tempest

The boatman was struck with fear. He struggled to speed up and get us to shore. However, the storm only seemed to move faster. At one point, a strong gust of wind tore our already worn-out sail into several pieces. The constant thrashing of waves cracked the bottom of our boat and before we knew it, water began leaking in. It was a terrifying situation.

The boatman was on the brink of exhaustion. He used every ounce of his strength, but was overwhelmed by the storm. Nuru and I joined the boatman and started rowing as well. Basit looked to the sky and started crying for God’s mercy.

The water was rising quickly in the boat. It was a race between us reaching the bank and our boat sinking to the bottom of river. It wasn’t looking good. The boat was nearly filled with water, yet we kept on going. We rowed with all of our might

As the muscles in our arms pulsated like pistons of an engine, the boat rocked forward. Suddenly, the rain had let up. The intensity of the storm attenuated. It was just a passing storm.

With our boat severely damaged, it was clear we were about to sink, but fate had drifted us near the riverbank.

We were lucky. The boat sank and we swam just a few yards to shore. Though we were tired and drenched, we had avoided drowning and escaped the grasp of the mighty Jamuna River. Finally, we were safe on shore, but our boat was lost.

We were stranded in no-man’s land. The only means of transportation in this region was boat. Where were we going to find another boat?

Boats weren’t readily available in remote places like this. We

might have to wait till morning before another boat would pass by. This meant we’d have to find shelter. Granted, we could spend the night under the open sky, but if another storm came, how were we going to survive?

In spite of all of this, my main concern was still getting to India as quickly as possible. I had a very important mission to complete. Being delayed was not an option. As I struggled to come up with a solution, Nuru suddenly pointed to the sky and said, “Look, to the north.”

He was pointing to the top of a pole, which resembled the mast of a boat. However, from our vantage point we could see no boat. A huge sand-hill stood right in front of us.

We climbed the hill and rushed towards the pole. As our eyes peered over the hilltop, we saw two boats with canopies, anchored to the shore. These boats likely took shelter on the shore during the storm. These passengers were lucky as their boats were still intact.

With thoughts of our mission still fresh in my mind, I saw these two vessels, not as boats, but rather as rescuers. This was our only hope. We thought that given our circumstances, we had only once choice. We had to seek help from these two boats.

We approached the boats. They were refugee boats packed with men, women, children and their few meager belongings. They had absolutely no extra room. The passengers were members of the Hindu community. They were fleeing Bangladesh on their way to Mankachar, India.

Pakistani forces and their pro-Pakistani allies especially persecuted the Hindu-minority of Bangladesh for not only their support of the Awami League, but also because of their religion. The Pakistani authority often alleged that Bangladeshi Hindus were more loyal to India than to Pakistan. This sentiment coupled with individual prejudice fueled the heinous acts of Pakistani soldiers against innocent Hindu lives.

This family had become victims of such atrocities perpetrated by the enemy. They had fled their homes to protect their lives and the honor of their women. These people were scared. They had every reason to be skeptical of strangers. They had every reason to be suspicious of us.

We carefully thought about how to approach these people. How would they react to the four of us? Would they believe us? Even if they were sympathetic, would there be any room for four more

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passengers on their already overcrowded boats?

As our voices stuttered with hesitation, we introduced ourselves to the passengers.

“We are the Mukti Bahini,” I said.

We explained our mission and asked if there would be room for us on their boats. To our dismay, they said no. However, we continued to plead for reconsideration.

The passengers of the boats consisted of two families who were fleeing Sirajganj Town. The people of Sirajganj particularly infuriated the Pakistani forces. After the March 25th crackdown, the people of Sirajganj organized a resistance against Pakistani forces, By the end of March, Pakistani forces found themselves in a fierce battle to reoccupy Sirajganj. The Pakistani Army suffered heavy causalities.

In retaliation the Pakistani forces took a heavy-handed approach to Sirajganj. They indiscriminately carried out acts of carnage, arson, and rape.

Naturally, the families on the boat had no reason to trust strangers.

In a moment of empathy, the head of one family called his brother from the other boat for consultation. Wet and hungry, we anxiously waited for their decision. A few minutes passed like several hours for us.

It was getting dark. If they didn’t take us, our fate would lie in the hands of the stormy night sky. The chance of us finding another refugee boat was remote.

Basit was reciting verses to himself from the Koran. He was confident that some way, somehow, we would be saved.

After a few minutes, we were called back to the boat for further inquiry. Finally they returned to us and said, “You are the Mukti Bahini. Please board our boats.”

They had heard of Kader Siddiqui and the Tangail Mukti Bahini. They were especially honored to meet Basit Siddiqui, a member of the Parliament.

Continuing, they said that they did not consider our presence an inconvenience. Rather, they wanted to make sure that we were comfortable. They wanted us to feel at home with them, as if they were our family

We were overwhelmed by the respect, sympathy, and cooperation that these refugees showed us. We were relieved.

They transferred some of their family members from one boat to the other to make room for us.

We sat at the front of the boat while the women and children nestled inside the canopy. There were a total of thirteen people on our boat. Six men, and the rest women and children.

As I was about to speak with the boatmen about our journey ahead, a young man came out from under the canopy. The head of the family introduced him to us as his elder son, a student of Rajshahi University. He was about my age.

Basit asked, “If this is your older son, where is your younger one?”

Suddenly, the man’s eyes flooded with tears as he struggled to speak. The man’s elder son responded and told us of how Pakistani forces had brutally killed his younger brother. We were speechless. Despite all the bloodshed the three of us had witnessed, no experience could give us the right words needed to console this family.

It was for this loss that the elder son had been hiding under the canopy until now. Fearful of losing another child, the father was unwilling to let his son take any risks.

I tried to ease the gloomy atmosphere by changing the subject. I mentioned that I had used this route about a month ago as I returned from my mission to India. Based on my experience, there were a few things I wanted them to know.

The Pakistani forces had a garrison at the Bahadurabad Ferry Station on the east bank of the river. We would have to cross it in the middle of the night to avoid the watchful eyes of the enemy. Therefore, it was imperative that we navigate along the west bank of the river. For our timing to be correct, we would have to begin our journey now. And so, the boatmen set sail.

We hadn’t eaten all day. After our perilous journey, we were tired and hungry. As our boat sank to the bed of the Jamuna, so did our rations. The refugee family invited us to share in their meals. We ate Chira, fried flattened rice, and Gur, molasses candies.

Basit was an articulate conversationalist. He thanked them again for their food and hospitality. He entertained the families with the success stories of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. They shared with us their tales of suffering. Within an hour, we had established mutual trust and friendship. The women and children were no longer hidden under the canopy. They came to the front of the boat and joined us in the discussion. After many worry-filled days, this was

the first night that they had felt at ease.

We continued our discussion until midnight before we went to sleep. However, we did not all sleep simultaneously. We took turns. At all times, there were two men awake to assist the boatmen.

We came to know that for several generations this family had owned a business in Sirajganj Town. The two sons of the family were student activists. They were participants in the March noncooperation movement against the Pakistani government.

After the fall of Sirajganj Town, Pakistani forces went on a killing spree, burning everything in sight. The shops and houses of Sirajganj were looted by pro-Pakistani elements under the protection of Pakistani forces. The family’s business was left in ashes.

Rumors had circulated that the neighborhood in which they lived was next. With whatever meager possession they could carry, the family immediately left their home. However, as they tried to escape, the Pakistani Army killed their younger son. Sadly, they were not able to recover his body.

Many of their neighbors and relatives failed to escape in time. Pakistani forces targeted and killed the able bodied men and raped the young women left in the neighborhood. Though the family lost one of their sons, they felt fortunate that their wives and daughters had escaped such horrific fates.

After escaping, the family hid in a rural area for few days. However, even in remote locations, hiding from Pakistani forces was difficult. Razakars aided the Pakistani military in these areas to smoke out any and all refugees. It is with great dismay and agony, that they were forced to flee their motherland and become refugees in India.

Though they knew exactly what they had left behind, they were anxious to know what lay ahead. They were apprehensive about their journey to India. Questions flooded their minds. Once they got to India, where would they stay? Would this be a one-way journey? Would they ever return to their motherland? After all, Bangladesh was their home.

As they came to know that I had visited Mankachar earlier, they eagerly bombarded me with questions. Were there any facilities for refugees? Was there a refugee reception center? Were there camps or housing facilities for the refugees? I did not want to disappoint them. So I answered their questions diplomatically.

I asked the young man if he was interested in joining the Mukti Bahini. I told him that I knew the commander of the training camp and that if he wanted, I could recommend him. The young man was non-committal and told me that his first responsibility was to take care of his family.

After the loss of one son, his parents were reluctant to let him take such a risk. We understood their situation. This was a heartbreaking story, but it was typical of the experiences of millions of families across Bangladesh.

We reached Mankachar the next evening without any problems. We thanked the refugee family again and wished them all the best.

Major Binder Singh, the Commander of Mankachar BSF received us at his camp. He was pleased to see me again. He transmitted the news of our arrival to Major General Gill and Brigadier Sanat Singh of the Indian Army.

Meeting with Major General Gill The next morning, Basit and I left for Tura with an Indian Army escort Nuru stayed back at Mankachar. We arrived at Brigadier Sant Singh’s camp near Tura. I had been here once before. I exchanged greetings with many officers whom I had met during my previous visit. Brigadier Singh was happy to see me again. He immediately tooks in his jeep and drove us to an Indian Army camp near the border where Major General Gill was waiting for us.

This was a frontal outpost for Brigadier Singh’s Brigade. It was situated on a small hilltop behind a mountain on the border of Meghalaya and Mymensingh.

The brigadier told us that his men had established this camp recently. The camp was situated opposite to Kamalpur, a fortified Pakistani Army outpost on the border. Its purpose was to support the Mukti Bahini during attacks on the Pakistani Army at Kamalpur, While driving up to the top of the hill, we saw Indian soldiers training in an open field at the base of the hill.

Major General Gill sat in his camp situated on the top of a hill overlooking the valley. From there he kept an eye on his soldiers in training. He was happy to see me again and greeted us warmly. After an exchange of pleasantries, we got to business. I handed over a letter from our commander, Kader Siddiqui. He opened the letter and smiled. I realized my mistake. The letter was written in Bengali

and obviously, a Sikh officer was not expected to read Bengali. I apologized. He handed me the letter and I began to translate the letter into English:

Dear Major General Gill,

I am sending my representatives Nuran Nabi and Basit Siddiqui, a member of parliament, to you. At this hour, whatever they say should be treated as my word. You have asked me to come to India once, but at this moment it is not possible. I feel that Allah has imposed on me the responsibility to protect the three million people in the areas we have liberated. I fight this war not to save myself, but to save others. We can defeat the occupation forces with your cooperation. The situation here is fairly good. On behalf of my countrymen and myself, please accept these greetings. Sincerely, Kader Siddiqui 23.7.71

Major General Gill had a profound love and respect for Kader. He said, “Initially I didn’t believe it was possible to confront a very wellequipped army with just a few old and ordinary weapons. Moreover, to do this in Tangail, only thirty miles from Dhaka, was even more incredible. I couldn’t believe that these offensives could be made without a supply line, without experienced and trained soldiers. But, as I know from the intercepted Pakistani Army radio messages, the enemy is facing a tough fight from the Tangail Mukti Bahini. And now, after meeting with you, I am further convinced of the Mukti Bahini’s resolve. I salute Kader Siddiqui for the heroism that he has displayed.”

This was our opportunity to ask our Indian friends for some much needed help. We explained to Major General Gill and Brigadier Singh that unless pressure was mounted from across the border, the occupation forces would intensify their assault on us. External assistance would be our best hope.

A series of attacks on Tangail-Mymensingh Road could potentially threaten the enemy’s supply line and reduce their movement. This, in turn, would alleviate some of the pressure on the Mukti Bahini.

We continued our plea for help and explained that we urgently needed long-distance wireless sets to improve communication within the Mukti Bahini camps, as well as with the Indian forces.

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Major General Gill and Brigadier Singh gave a patient hearing. the general promised us all the help he could give. He instructed Brigadier Singh to give us as much arms and ammunitions as we could carry into Bangladesh. He also reminded us of the importance of the personal safety of Kader Siddiqui.

By the end of our meeting, night began to approach and the skies ad opened to rain. As we were leaving the tent, an army officer wrapped in a raincoat, slowly entered. As he made his way inside

the tent, he removed his rain soaked army cap and saluted the general. Even amidst the dim surroundings of the tent, the officer never removed his black-tinted goggles. He wore a reserved look on his face.

Brigadier Singh introduced him to us. He was a Bangladesh Army Officer, Major Zia. We greeted him with enthusiasm. However, he remained reserved and did not reciprocate our warm greetings. We said good-bye to all and left the camp. An Indian soldier escorted us to a tent opposite to the generals and told us that we were to spend the night there

Attack on Kamalpur Outpost by Z-Force There were three beds in the tent. Basit and I were quite tired after the long journey we had over the past few days. We laid down to rest.

At about a quarter-to-nine in the evening, Major Zia came to our tent. Packet meals, as used by the Indian Army, were delivered to us. We are our dinner. Major Zia told us he would rest in our tent until midnight. At 01:00 hours the major was to rendezvous with the soldiers of his brigade, Z-Force, now stationed at the Bangladesh border. To avoid falling asleep, he refused to lie down.

That morning, Z-Force was poised to attack Kamalpur, a strong outpost of the Pakistan Army on the Jamalpur border. Major Zia insisted that we get our rest; however, despite our exhaustion, the major’s presence kept us awake.

I recalled Major Zia’s historic radio announcement on March 27th. The major’s announcement of independence in the name of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was a very timely one. It inspired millions of Bengalis like me at a very critical moment in time. My praises seemed to intrigue the major. He wanted to know when, where, and how I had heard his announcement. He wanted to know if his voice was audible. I recounted the moment for him in

further detail.

Basit added that the announcement from the clandestine Free Bangla Radio claiming that Bangabandhu was safe and leading the war in person was a risky one. The Pakistani government could have killed Bangabandhu and denied that he was ever in their custody.

Major Zia asserted that unless the name of Bangabandhu was mentioned, the Bengali nation would not have joined the armed struggle against Pakistan. He added, “The announcement of independence with my name alone would not have had any effect.”

Basit and I agreed to the major’s reasoning. In order to prove that the announcement on Free Bangla Radio was false, the Pakistani authorities boasted that Bangabandhu had been arrested, and were forced to publish a photograph of Bangabandhu under their custody. This showed the Bengali nation, as well as the world, that Bangabandhu was still alive.

Major Zia was eager to learn more about Kader, Basit, and me. He advised us on strategies in leading the Tangail Mukti Bahini. He was pleased to learn that Basit, a member of the provincial assembly, was leading the freedom fighters of his own constituency. He praised Basit for his courageous role.

During our conversation, Major Zia said that his wife and two young sons were still imprisoned in Dhaka Cantonment. He was very worried about them. He admitted that it was a mistake to allow them to go to Dhaka. It would have been wiser had he brought them to India from Chittagong. We could only express our sympathies.

The two of us enjoyed our conversations with the major and soon lost track of time. However, Major Zia kept a vigilant eye on his watch. Suddenly, the major looked up and said, “It’s time for me to

go.”

The clock had struck a half past twelve. The major left the tent and set off for the border.

We wished him and the Z-Force much success and bid him farewell. It was time for us to get some sleep before we too were to set off on our own journey in the morning.

However, before dawn had broken, Basit and I awoke to the sound of gun blasts and mortar shells ricocheting through the air.

Immediately, we realized that the Z-Force was engaged in a fierce battle with the Pakistani Army.

The liberation war started on March 26, 1971. Since then, the members of the East Bengal Regiment, the EPR, the police, and the

Mukti Bahini had independently engaged in a war against Pakistani forces. They each waged battles in different places and at different times, without any central coordination.

However, the success of any war is dependent upon the combatant’s ability to engage in both conventional battles, as well as guerilla operations. So by the end of July, the Bangladesh government raised three brigades of freedom fighters. Each brigade was comprised of the members from the army, the EPR, the police, and the Mukti Bahini. The recruits in the newly formed brigades underwent rigorous training in conventional battles. Time was of the essence.

Major Shafiullah, Major Khaled, and Major Zia led the brigades respectively. The first initial of the commanding officer’s name identified each brigade. Therefore, the brigade under Major Zia was known as Z-Force. Major Shafiullah led S-Force. Major Khaled led KForce.

The members of the Z-Force underwent two months of rigorous training at Teldela camp near Tura. The blasts that Basit and I awoke to marked Z-Force’s first offensive encounter with the enemy.

Kamalpur was a strategically located fortified defense outpost for the Pakistani forces. It was a gateway to Jamalpur, the brigade headquarters for the Pakistani Army. It was constructed as an impenetrable outpost and guarded by two companies of soldiers from the 31st Baluch Regiment of the Pakistani Army. It had concrete bunkers with interlocking tunnels connecting one bunker to another. Mines in every direction secured the outpost’s perimeter.

Our meeting with Major Zia was significant with unforeseen historic consequences. It was the first meeting between Zia, the commander of a Bangladesh Army brigade, and us, representatives of the Mukti Bahini, who were fighting the Pakistani Army deep inside the country.

The meeting foreshadowed the days ahead. Major Zia repeatedly reminded us of the importance of Kader’s personal safety. However, he added that if the Mukti Bahini’s circumstances permitted, Kader should attempt a visit India to see him.

It takes a hero to genuinely convey his sincere respect to another hero. Major Zia’s words on that day were a testimony to this effect.

In December 1971, after the liberation of Dhaka, our paths crossed once more. We were both at Dhaka Cantonment. By then Major Zia had been promoted to colonel. My hair had grown long

and my beard thick. Regardless, he had no difficulty in recognizing me. The relationship and bond built through the struggles of liberation would not be broken that easily.

Captain Salahuddin Becomes a Martyr In the early hours of August ist, Delta Company of Captain Salahuddin Momtaz and Bravo Company of Captain Hafiz positioned themselves northeast of the Kamalpur outpost. The Indian artillery troops were ready to offer their support. The Mukti Bahini launched the attack exactly at three-thirty in the morning. However, Pakistani forces answered with heavy mortar shells, which inflicted a few casualties on the Mukti Bahini.

The initial casualties slowed the advancement of the Mukti Bahini. However, Captain Salahuddin, a valiant freedom fighter, led his team from the front. The freedom fighters were inspired by his leadership and followed him.

They gradually encroached on the enemy bunkers. After the offensive was mounted, the Pakistani forces retreated and took shelter inside the concrete bunkers of the outpost. From this vantage point they regrouped and let loose a barrage of machinegun fire on the advancing freedom fighters.

The fierceness of the battle gradually intensified. The freedom fighters continued their advancement under the leadership of Captain Salahuddin. His men cautioned him to slow down, but Captain Salahuddin, determined as he was, continued the aggressive attack.

Captain Salahuddin responded defiantly to his soldiers warnings, “The enemy has not yet made a bullet that can kill me.”

Just as these words were uttered from his mouth, two mortar shells landed in front of Captain Salahuddin. Before he took his last breath, Captain Salahuddin said, “If you have to die, die after killing the enemy. Die on the soil of Bangladesh!”

The captain had become a martyr.

Salahuddin’s team had gotten too close to the concrete bunkers of the Pakistani camp. Three of his men tried to rescue his dead body, but they too followed the path of the martyr. Captain Salahuddin’s body was never retrieved. All that was recovered of this war hero was his Sten gun, his watch, and some documents.

The battle had taken a new turn. Mukti Bahini casualties were on the rise.

On the other hand, Bravo Company leader, Captain Hafiz escaped death just marginally. A Pakistani mortar shell damaged his

Sten gun and he was severely injured. Rabiul, one of his soldiers, rescued him. In doing so, Rabiul was mortally wounded.

After reviewing the causalities, Major Moinul Hossain Chowdhury, the battalion commanding officer ordered the withdrawal of his forces.

In addition to the casualties, the Z-Force lost several weapons, which included: heavy machineguns, LMGs, Sten guns, rifles, and rocket launchers.

As morning broke, the Indian officers in Brigadier Singh’s camp briefed us on the details of the battle. There were thirty-five freedom fighter casualties and many more wounded. The bodies of the martyrs and wounded soldiers were brought to a nearby community center. Brigadier Singh ordered his medical team to rush to the spot. The news of this loss was devastating,

However, Pakistani forces also suffered serious casualties. Moreover, their morale was shaken. They were left stunned by the ferocity with which the freedom fighters attacked.

This battle was a glorious event in the history of the liberation war. Moreover, for many of these soldiers, this was their first experience on the front lines. This confidence helped them in winning many subsequent battles.

Captain Salahuddin’s courage and heroism is an example of the patriotism of the East Bengal Regiment and the rest of our armed forces.

Before the war broke, Captain Salahuddin was posted in Quetta, West Pakistan. Fully aware of the risks involved, he escaped and crossed the Pakistan border into India. Soon after, he joined the liberation war in July. Prior to the battle of August ist, he led numerous daring missions, including several secret reconnaissance missions that preceded the battle itself.

Though the attack on Kamalpur was not a victorious one, the occupation forces became intimidated by the strong offensive of the freedom fighters. For the first time, the enemy at Kamalpur outpost experienced the deadly fighting prowess of these freedom fighters. They learned first hand that the Mukti Bahini was determined to win the freedom of Bangladesh.

From that night on the Pakistan Army remained confined within its bunkers. Even the slightest rustle of leaves in the night was

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answered with a ceaseless and fruitless onslaught of gunfire. The Pakistani soldiers were scared.

The August ist battle of Kamalpur remains a testament to the heroism of the soldiers of Bangladesh. Martyred Captain Salahuddin Momtaz lives on in our memories as a legendary war hero.

After the independence, schools and landmarks were named after Captain Salahuddin Momtaz in Dhaka Containment, as well as in his native town, Feni to commemorate the bravery of this martyred native son.

Fall of Kamalpur The battle of Kamalpur marked a significant chapter in the history of Bangladesh’s liberation war.

The border outpost at Kamalpur was a gateway to Dhaka. If the Mukti Bahini could take this outpost, their attack on BakshiganjSherpur-Jamalpur to the south would pick up momentum. This made Kamalpur an attractive target for the Mukti Bahini.

The first attack in August was a probe to test the strength of the enemy. Though we suffered heavy losses, the attack struck fear in the hearts of our enemies.

For the next two months, the Mukti Bahini regrouped. In October, another attack was launched. However, both sides suffered heavy losses once again.

On November 14th, another heavy offensive was launched. The attack took place in front of the Kamalpur outpost. However, the specific mission objectives were to navigate past the outpost and occupy the Bakshiganj-Jamalpur Highway. The primary goal of the mission was to cut off the outpost from the 31st Baluch Regiment stationed in Jamalpur.

The Mukti Bahini was largely successful in this mission, but yet again, we suffered heavy losses.

Major Taher, commander of Sector 11, was seriously injured. A Pakistani mortar shell blew away the upper part of his left knee.

The strategy behind the November 14th attack was not merely to capture this outpost. Our goal was to demoralize the enemy. We wanted to turn the outpost from a Pakistani military vantage point into a death trap.

Since Kamalpur was of such strategic importance, the enemy

predictably mobilized reinforcements to defend the outpost.

Soon after the November 14th attack, a group of Pakistani soldiers moved from Bakshiganj into Kamalpur with 120 mm mortars to strengthen their defense of the outpost.

However, the Mukti Bahini was ready. The Mukti Bahini ambushed the Pakistani soldiers en route. The trap resulted in ten Pakistani soldiers killed, seven injured and one machinegun seized. Most notably, these Pakistani casualties included an officer.

The enemy was nearing defeat. They had been completely isolated. Captain Ahsan Malik, the desperate Pakistani commander of the outpost, requested immediate reinforcements from Jamalpur Battalion headquarters.

Oh November 23rd, Captain Malik sent out a team of Razakars to Bakshiganj on patrol. But his men never returned. They were captured by freedom fighters.

Soon after, another team of Pakistani soldiers was sent to find the Razakars. They too vanished into thin air, never to be seen again.

As anxiety crept through the captain’s mind, Captain Malik radioed the battalion headquarters for help. Col. Sultan, Commander of the 31st Baluch Battalion responded to Captain Malik’s request and sent a group of soldiers on a rescue mission in search of the missing men.

The Pakistani rescue team traveled with an extra vehicle in case the missing men had fallen to injury. Once again, the Mukti Bahini attacked. The Pakistani soldiers lost their vehicles, but this time they managed to escape with their lives and return to Bakshiganj.

Pakistani forces made three more attempts, each effort resulting in retreat. The Pakistani Army became desperate.

On November 27, three enemy teams were instructed to move north along the Bakshiganj-Kamalpur Road, while maintaining a safe distance between each other. Simultaneously, another team from Kamalpur moved south toward Bakshiganj. Their goal was to reconnect in the middle.

However, once again, the Mukti Bahini was ready. Like a tiger crouching amidst the grasses, the Mukti Bahini vigilantly watched its prey migrate down the roadside.

As soon as the first enemy team came within range, the Mukti Bahini opened fire. The enemy team was completely wiped out. The enemy’s attempt to reinforce the outpost was foiled yet again.

That same night, the Mukti Bahini attacked the Kamalpur

outpost. However, this time the enemy resisted the offensive from its fortified-concrete bunkers. The Mukti Bahini and Indian forces lost twenty soldiers in total, including one officer.

Despite continuing attacks, the Pakistani forces continued to reestablish contact with their isolated outpost.

On November 29th, Major Ayub led a team of Pakistani soldiers and Razakars to Kamalpur. The Razakars carried arms, ammunition, and food supplies balanced on their heads. Cleverly, this time they did not travel through the highway.

Rather, the enemy took an unconventional route through the villages. Major Ayub himself somehow managed to reach Kamalpur. However, when he arrived he noticed that his soldiers and the Razakars had not.

Once again, facing an attack by the Mukti Bahini, the rest of Major Ayub’s entourage was forced to retreat to Bakshiganj. Fleeing for their lives, they eagerly threw down their arms, ammunitions, and food supplies. The major was lucky to return to Bakshiganj the next day.

Soon after on December 4th, Major Ayub attempted another trip to Kamalpur. However, this time fortune was not in his favor.

The Mukti Bahini surrounded the enemy outpost. It was quite a difficult and depressing situation for the enemy. The Pakistani forces had no scope for medical treatment. There were no drugs. There was no doctor.

The enemy soldiers rationed one chapatti per day. Their stock of arms and ammunition was nearly exhausted. In the face of repeated attacks by the Mukti Bahini, the enemy had grown extremely scared. At night the mere croak of a frog or the howling of a fox sent shivers through the enemy camp, ending in a nervous fusillade of gunfire into the air.

Under these circumstances, the Mukti Bahini and Indian Army proposed a surrender to avoid further bloodshed. A freedom fighter was sent to deliver this message to the enemy.

However, the Pakistani commander, Captain Malik rejected the proposal with a profane and invective response.

Perhaps to protect Pakistan and its self-professed Islamic faith, Captain Malik thought it best to fight to the bitter end. Perhaps, he dreamt of going to heaven as a martyr. Perhaps, he just had a death wish for himself and his men. Regardless, he made it clear that surrendering was not an option.

By December 3rd, an all-out war had broken out between India and Pakistan at both the eastern and western fronts.

On December 5th, the Mukti Bahini and the Indian Army launched a ferocious attack on Kamalpur. Reeling from the intensity of this attack, Captain Malik and his men were forced to surrender.

At last, the mighty Pakistani outpost of Kamalpur had fallen!

It was here at Kamalpur that a glorious chapter of Mukti Bahini heroism was written. It was here that the arrogance and false-pride of Pakistan was crushed to dust.

Major Siddiq Salik, a Pakistani Army officer, has narrated the Pakistani Army’s defeat at Kamalpur in his book titled, Witness to Surrender.

The Wicked Monsoon On August 2nd, Basit and I left Tura for Mankachar with two truckloads of arms and explosives. Major Bindar Singh of the BSF would provide additional supplies just as he did earlier. Basit and I rode in two different trucks.

The driver of my truck was a young Sikh. He was tall and slim, with a turban on his head. He looked like a teenager of fourteen or fifteen. A thin grey hair subtly peaked above his upper lip forming what was yet to be his moustache.

He drove the truck through the curvy hills, quite rapt within his own thoughts. It was a huge truck. Sitting beside the driver, I stared out the window. Unfortunately, we were moving so fast that the beautiful landscape appeared as if it was coming through an out-offocus lens.

His driving made me nervous. I was uncertain as to whether the driver even possessed a valid license. However, this was not a question I could ask, nor was this the appropriate time. He maneuvered the vehicle through this rough terrain with such confidence that I had to trust his skill.

However, Basit’s truck could not keep up. His truck was so far behind that it had vanished in the horizon behind us.

The Sikh driver continuously sang a chorus from a Hindi song, He sang, “Very wicked, this Monsoon is”.

I said to the driver, you must love this song?”

He emphatically replied, “Yes! I do. It is a love song from a Hindi film.”

I said, “Does it remind you of a girl back home?” The driver blushed. Then he quickly changed the subject.

He told me that he was from Ludhiana in Punjab. His family had a road transport business. His father, his three elder brothers, and he drove trucks to various parts of India. They were in fact contractors to the armed forces.

I asked him if he liked his job.

He replied, “Very much so. I drive trucks from one border of India to the other. My job takes me to exciting new places. I move from town to town, meeting new and interesting people. It’s great. However, I miss my mother very much. She lives in Ludhiana all alone.”

Reminding him that he never answered my previous question, I asked him if he missed his girlfriend.

He replied, “I have wanted to write to her for a long time, but if her father were to find out about me, he would be furious. As much as it pains us, we’ve kept no communication while I’ve been on the road. I miss her terribly”.

He then added, “It’s not just the memory of those I miss that makes me love this song. In my line of work, there has always been one constant enemy – the monsoon. That’s why I love this song so much. It’s as if this song was written just for me.”

As the driver and I conversed, I was reminded of my own life back home. It had been three months since I was last home. I’ve had no contact with my family whatsoever.

I wondered how they all were: my father, my brother, my uncles, and my aunts. I missed them all.

My father must be worried about me. He was probably wondering what I was doing and whether or not I was eating. He was probably praying nightly for my safety. And yet, he didn’t even know that I was in India.

I pondered how I had affected him. Had my decision to join the Mukti Bahini jeopardized my family’s safety? This question in particular replayed in my mind.

Fortunately, our home was within the liberated zone. It was unlikely that the Pakistani forces or Razakars would dare move into the region. Regardless, I was concerned.

I was reminded of my mother. Her thought brought tears to my eyes. I could barely hold it in. I knew she was watching me from above, praying for me from heaven.

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As my eyes swelled with tears, the driver looked to me and asked, Have you been reminded of someone?”

This time, I was the one who changed the subject. “Let’s break for tea,” I suggested.

Two Hundred Mile Tea We crossed a few more miles and stopped at a tea stand. It was a thatched-shed on the side of a hilly road. We could see water boiling in a country oven. There were benches to sit on. However, they were covered with scat and did not seem very strong.

We looked around. The surrounding area was desolate. There were no dwellings. Even in the distance, there was no village in sight. All we saw was this lone-shed, stooped on the side of the road. It was Govious that this stall was meant to serve people like us.

As we pulled up to the shed, we saw that we were the only customers. An old gentleman from one of the indigenous tribes was the shopkeeper. He greeted us and asked, “What kind of tea would you like?”

I asked for a regular cup of tea, while the truck driver asked for a cup of “Two Hundred Mile Tea.”

Curiously, I inquired, “What is that?”

The driver said, “Truck drivers who drive long distances, usually asked for extra strength tea for every hundred miles they have left to drive. I have to drive another two hundred miles, so I have asked for two hundred mile tea” Unperturbed, the shopkeeper handed us our tea.

The driver’s anecdote reminded me of one of my own experiences. It was in Dhaka during the mass uprising of 1969 and the non-cooperation movement of 1971. Back then we would go out late at night to write our political slogans across the walls of various buildings.

In order to keep our activities going, we would need insomniainducing fuel to keep us awake.

Just opposite the Secretariat Building on Topkhana Road there was a row of several restaurants that we would frequent. These restaurants were open late and played old, mostly Hindi movie songs over loud speakers.

While silence crept through most parts of the sleeping city, rickshaw pullers, scooter drivers, and student activists like ourselves

were drawn to the melody that resonated through the air.

As we entered the restaurant, a waiter would ask, “How much patti tea do you want?”

If we were trying to stay awake for the whole night, the waiter would cry out our order, “Table one – four cups of tea, tin patti (triple strength)!”

Mystic Mankachar On the afternoon of August 2nd, our trucks arrived at Border Security Force (BSF) camp in Mankachar. Major Bindar Singh received us.

Basit left the camp to stay with Shamsur Rahman Khan, a leader of the Awami League and a Member of Parliament. At the time, Mr. Khan was staying in Mankachar. My accommodations were at a BSF guesthouse where I spent that night.

Major Singh briefed me on the arrangements that he had made for my departure to Bangladesh the next day.

I had been to Mankachar twice before. However, thus far, I had only seen Mankachar at a glance. What I had seen intrigued me. This time I would have to make the most of my opportunity.

On the morning of August 3rd, while eating breakfast, I told Major Singh, “I’ll be leaving Mankachar for Tangail this evening. Before I go, I’d like to see Mankachar Bazaar”

Major Singh provided me with a guide who accompanied me to Mankachar Bazaar.

Mankachar was an old river port situated on the borders of Bangladesh and the Assam province of India. It was situated on a narrow offshoot of the Jamuna River.

Mankachar had been an important port of commerce between Northern Bangladesh and Assam for over a hundred years.

However, in the last few months it had become much more. Millions of refugees from Bangladesh came over to Mankachar through this port. One could see thousands of boats scattered for nearly a square mile around the port of Mankachar.

Without pause, refugees arrived, while goods were loaded and unloaded like clockwork. Hundreds of refugee camps sprouted throughout the area.

It was almost noon, when my guide and I reached Mankachar Bazaar. There were swarms of people in every direction. The

storefronts, while small and crowded, efficiently utilized every inch of the market. It was an amazing feat to imagine that while these shops, crammed in every alley and crevices fostered millions of dollars in the trade of such commodities and services as jute, rice, and money laundering. With so many refugees, the market looked less like a bazaar and more like a village fair. Before the war, Mankachar was known to attract smugglers. However, the war had allowed this business to thrive. Mankachar had become a smugglers paradise.

The roads and shops were covered with a thick dust. Most of the people gathered at the bazaar were refugees. Their faces were marked with fear, uncertainty and tension.

Although they were now beyond the reach of the Pakistani Army, the refugees had left their lives and all that they knew behind. They had lost their loved ones and experienced the atrocities of the enemy first hand. Their lives were forever changed.

Mankachar was not prepared for the massive overflow of refugees. There were no organized refugee reception centers. These people stepped off the boats and arrived in a foreign land, unaware of what lay next for them. The local administration was simply overwhelmed.

In spite of such uncertainties and confusion, the refugees could find consolation in knowing that they had escaped the enemy’s deadly grasp.

Major Taher and Major Manzur After I came back from the bazaar, I took a bath at the guesthouse. After seven arduous days, the bath was quite refreshing. The guesthouse sat high along the roadside, overlooking the river. As I sat on the veranda soaking in the view of the harbor, I pondered the situation on the frontlines.

By evening I would be off for Tangail. However, doubt and uncertainty plagued my mind. What perils would lie ahead? Would we make a safe return?

At that moment, Major Singh stopped by. A gentleman dressed in civilian clothes accompanied him. Major Singh introduced the man as Major Taher of the Bangladesh Army, Commander of Sector 11.

After Major Taher and I had a brief exchange of greetings, he told

me that he had come from his camp in Dhalu to see me. He was recently appointed Commander of Sector 11. The major knew of our successful guerilla operations under the leadership of Kader Siddiqui. As soon as he had heard that I was at the camp, he made it a point to come and see me.

I briefed Major Taher on our encounters with Pakistani forces in Tangail. When I told him that we would be leaving that evening for Tangail through the Jamuna River via Bahadurabad Ferry Station, he offered some important advice. He warned that I be especially alert while crossing Bahadurabad Ferry Station. A few days ago, a platoon of Sector 11 freedom fighters attacked the Pakistani Army camp at Bahadurabad Ferry Station. The platoon was able to inflict substantial damage and the Pakistani camp suffered many causalities. After such a skirmish, the enemy was likely to be extra vigilant around Bahadurabad Ferry Station.

As we continued speaking, our conversation grew more informal. Major Taher inquired of my life before the war. I obliged and told him about my student life in the department of Biochemistry at Dhaka University.

He immediately asked, “Do you know Anwar? He is my younger brother.”

Anwar and I were classmates, but more importantly, we were both student activists in the liberation movement. However, after March 25th, I had lost all contact with him.

Before the war, Anwar had mentioned that his older brother was a major in the Pakistani Army, stationed in West Pakistan

Now that Major Taher had mentioned Anwar’s name, Fcould see the family resemblance. Given their dark complexions and thick mustaches, I really should have recognized him.

I asked Major Taher, “I had heard that you were in West Pakistan. How did you end up making it here and joining the liberation war?”

Major Taher’s story unfolded like the plot of an action movie.

On March 25th, Major Taher was stationed at Baluch Regimental Center in Abbottabad, West Pakistan. He was an officer of the elite commando unit of the Pakistani Army. He received special training in the United States.

Initially, he was unaware of the situation in East Pakistan (Bangladesh). However, his suspicion was aroused by certain activities in his camp. Entire commando units from the camp were sent to Bangladesh. However, Major Taher was not selected, nor was

he briefed on the unprecedented move. Major Taher was sure that something was wrong in Bangladesh.

A few days later, at the officer’s canteen a West Pakistani officer cursed Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman as a traitor. Major Taher vehemently protested and asked the West Pakistani officer to withdraw his comment and apologize. The officer refused. Major Taher became enraged. He pulled the officer’s collar and shouted, “You must apologize. Apologize for cursing the leader of the Pakistani Parliament. You should not forget that Bangabandhu is the supreme leader of Bangladesh.”

Major Taher was arrested and jailed for this altercation with the West Pakistani officer. However, this courageous patriot was determined to liberate his motherland from the clutches of Pakistan. He decided to flee from West Pakistan to join the liberation war.

However, escaping from a Pakistani military jail was no easy task. Major Taher would soon find that he had a very risky adventure ahead of him. It was a matter of life and death. He was already under the watchful eyes of several West Pakistani soldiers. Guards followed his every step. However, his determination and love for his motherland kept him going. He told himself, “I am a commando officer. I must use my training. My country needs me. I cannot stay here at this critical juncture in history.”

He made three attempts to escape. Unfortunately, each one ended in failure. Pakistani intelligence remained vigilant in tracking his every move. Nonetheless, he could not give up.

He had learned of other Bengali officers who also tried to escape from West Pakistan to join the liberation war. However, they had no direct contact with each other. With so much at risk, it was impossible to trust one another.

Under these circumstances, Major Taher came in contact with Major Ziauddin, a Bengali officer, stationed at Rawalpindi Cantonment. They found that they shared a similar goal. A few days later, Major Taher came to know that two other officers, Major Manzur of Sialkot Cantonment and Captain Patwari of Jhilam Cantonment were also trying to escape West Pakistan.

Major Taher and Major Ziauddin finalized their plan. They used the last of their money to buy an old Volkswagen, their only means for escape.

It was nearly the end of July. Around noon, Major Taher, Major

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Ziauddin and Captain Patwari arrived at the residence of Major Manzur in Sialkot Cantonment.

Major Manzur realized why his comrades were at his door. He knew they had to escape that night.

This was a very critical decision for him. Unlike the other officers, Major Manzur lived in the cantonment with his family. He had his wife Rana, a three-year old daughter, and a four-month-old son. If he were to leave his family behind they were sure to be arrested and tortured. He had no choice, but to flee with his entire family. This was the most important decision of his life. If their mission failed, his family would be in deep waters. If they stayed, their fate would be worse.

The decision Major Manzur’s wife had to make was also serious. After all, the lives of her children rested in her hands. However, this patriotic mother had made her decision. She was ready to take the risk and decided that she and her children would accompany her husband.

After dark, they all crammed themselves into the old Volkswagen. There were a total of eight passengers in the car. It was jam-packed. Major Manzur’s Bengali orderly also accompanied them.

Mrs. Manzur wore a long veil, which was typical of West Pakistani women, to avoid suspicion. Major Taher and Major Ziauddin wore scout uniforms and carried golf clubs.

In spite of their efforts, they were still afraid of being found by the guards. Additionally, their car made them apprehensive. A car this old was likely to break down at any moment.

Fortunately, the eight travelers were very lucky. They left the cantonment without a hitch and fled the town heading towards Jafarwall.

Nature was also in their favor. It was raining, so only a few people were out on the streets.

They safely arrived at a village near the India-Pakistan border. They abandoned their Volkswagen and walked towards the border into the darkness.

Mrs. Manzur had given her four-month-old son and three years old daughter sleeping pills. It was quite a risk that she was willing to take. Any doctor would have hesitated to prescribe such a dangerous narcotic, but Mrs. Manzur, the courageous and patriotic mother, did so without a second thought. She did what was necessary to ensure

that her husband, Major Manzur could escape and join the war. The safety of her children was overshadowed by the call for the liberation of her motherland.

Few mothers could make this same patriotic decision.

It was the darkest of nights. The group bypassed a Pakistani border outpost and walked silently and cautiously toward the international border.

Though the border was an open area, the international borderline zigzagged. Major Taher and the group had to walk through muddy and slippery irrigation canals.

It was difficult for Mrs. Manzur to follow the officers. These were trained and experienced soldiers and commandoes that she was trailing. This was her first experience in such dire circumstances.

They had no compass and no star in the night sky to guide them. After an hour of treacherous walking, they found themselves back near the Pakistani outpost, which they had passed earlier. There is a saying in Bengali, “night falls where there is the fear of tiger.”

Pakistani forces were alerted by the sound of their steps. A powerful torchlight was aimed in their direction. The group quickly fell to the ground and escaped detection by the enemy.

However, when Major Manzur dropped to the ground, he fell on something solid. In the darkness he couldn’t make out what it was. Luckily, he felt around and recognized he was lying on top of the milepost for the international border. They quickly started for the Indian Territory.

At about two o’clock in the morning, the group arrived near an Indian border outpost named Debighar. However, at the risk of being mistaken as the enemy, they did not contact the Indian forces in the middle of the night. They had no intention of getting shot. As the night sky continued to drizzle, they searched for shelter away from the Indian outpost. Finally, they found a dry canal where they spent the night.

At dawn, Major Taher and Major Ziauddin reported to the Indian border outpost and introduced themselves. The news of their arrival was transmitted to the intelligence branch of the Indian Army and Bangladesh Army.

The Indian forces gave the officers a royal reception at the outpost. Indian villagers from the neighboring area had come to see the heroes who had risked everything for the liberation of their country

Major Taher and his team were sent to the eastern border of India to join the Bangladesh liberation war.

It was an amazing story. I listened to Major Taher with fascination.

I told Major Taher, “The Pakistani military junta chose the wrong enemy. With heroic soldiers like you and patriotic mothers like Mrs. Manzur at our side, victory is sure to be ours.

Major Taher smiled.

I further inquired about Anwar. Major Taher told me that Anwar and all of his brothers had been fighting in sector eleven under his command.

Very soon I would be moving out of Mankachar towards Bangladesh. Regrettably, I had no time to see Anwar. I asked Major Taher to convey my greetings to his brother.

The major and I talked some more, before he wished me a safe trip across the border.

The two highlights of my second visit to India were my meetings with Major Zia and Major Taher. These two freedom fighters played very significant roles in changing the political climate in postliberated Bangladesh.

Major Zia later became Major General Zia, before eventually becoming president of Bangladesh. While serving in office he was tragically assassinated in a military coup d’état in 1981. This was an ironic twist of fate, as Major Manzur who by then was a major general, was the one who had orchestrated the takeover.

Immediately after the death of President Zia, Major General Manzur was killed in a counter coup.

Major Taher went on to become a Colonel. In another ironic twist, after a failed coup attempt, a kangaroo military court found Colonel Taher guilty, while Zia was still president. Colonel Taher was tragically hung in 1976.

Meetings with members of the Parliament Most of the members of Parliament took shelter in India. Those who did not were quickly arrested and some were even killed.

Those parliament members in India formed the Provisional Government for an Independent Bangladesh. They were assigned to stay close to their respective borders from where they encouraged the freedom fighters’ efforts.

At Mankachar, Basit and I met with Latif Siddiqui who was a member of the provincial parliament and the elder brother of Kader Siddiqui.

When Latif had heard that his younger brother, Kader was leading many of his own followers in the war against Pakistan, he was eager to return to Tangail.

For Latif to return to the liberated areas of Tangail was a major decision. We told him that we couldn’t advise without first checking with Kader.

Moreover, Kader had emphasized to us that Latifs presence in India would reinforce the Mukti Bahini mission.

We conveyed this to Latif and reminded him that the letter Kader had sent to him only reiterated this truth.

By this time, several of Latifs followers moved into leadership positions in the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

At the Mukti Bahini camp in Tura, Basit and I met two more members of parliament. Principal Humayun Khaled was a member of the national assembly and Fazlur Rahman Khan Faruk was a member of the provincial assembly. In order to promote unity and nationalism, they offered political training to the freedom fighters at Camp Tura.

They suggested that Basit stay in India. However, Basit was quick to turn that notion down. In a firm tone, Basit said, “My place is not in India. My place is at Kader Siddiqui’s side in Tangail.”

We met freedom fighters from various regions of Bangladesh at Camp Tura. They included Habibullah Khan of Netrokona, Ratan of Kishoregonj, Mahbub of Rangpur, Munshi of Bogra, Abul Kalam Azad of Jamalpur, and Ajoy of Mymensingh.

We described the barbaric atrocities perpetrated by the Pakistani occupation forces in different areas of Bangladesh.

However, as they learned of our success in liberating a huge area of Tangail, they burst into joy. They had seen the carnage of the enemy first hand, but they had yet to exact retribution.

When they learned that one of the world’s most organized militaries was losing ground to the Tangail Mukti Bahini, these men were invigorated. Our success had encouraged them and strengthened their resolve to liberate their motherland.

The freedom fighters of Camp Tura earnestly requested we convey their regards to Kader.

From then on, news bulletins of the liberation efforts in Tangail

were disseminated through Camp Tura. These bulletins were prepared from intercepted messages from the Pakistani Army and reports directly from the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Crossing the Border with Arms Yet Again In the evening, we left Mankachar and began our journey home.

Seven large boats had been loaded with arms and ammunition and were ready for departure. Major Singh had made all the necessary arrangements.

That evening Basit and Nurul joined me at the harbor. We waited for darkness, before we set sail. Major Singh bade us goodbye.

A team of freedom fighters accompanied us for our defense. They were divided into seven groups and were posted accordingly in each boat. This time we were carrying large quantities of arms and ammunition, which included a number of long distance wireless sets, several thousand arms, large quantities of explosives, and several thousand grenades.

Thus far, I was pleased with the success of my mission. However, I was still very nervous. I knew the rest of our journey would be filled with danger. Reaching our destination safely with our arms and ammunition was my number one priority. Before we left the harbor, Basit said his prayers.

Evenly spaced, our boats set off in a linear formation. It was midnight when we came near the Jamuna River. We took a break for some light snacks. Unfortunately, a light snack was all we had to fill our stomachs. Nonetheless, it was welcomed sustenance.

As we ate, nervousness wafted through the boats with the river breeze.

We asked ourselves, “How would we cross Bahadurabad junction in the dark hours of the night?”

Unfortunately, crossing Bahadurabad junction during the day was no option either. Regardless of night or day, we knew that the vigilant eyes of the Pakistani Army were watching. We could not sit idle.

We only had a short window to make our move. We knew that our journey home would be riddled with peril and uncertainty. We had no choice, but to rise to the challenge. After all, we were freedom fighters. We were the Mukti Bahini.

In the thick of darkness, we were ready to make our way across

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Bahadurabad junction.

As we proceeded, it felt almost as if nature had extended her hand of friendship. The tide moved in our favor and the wind grew stronger from the north with clouds hovering above us. With the current and the wind behind us, we “flew down the river. We were still fifteen miles from Bahadurabad junction, but we traveled swiftly and safely.

About four miles from Bahadurabad junction the wind finally let up and our boats consequently slowed.

I had to ensure that under no circumstance would we lose our cover and risk our mission. We gave clear-cut instructions to the Freedom fighters that for no reason whatsoever should we reveal our identity. We had to ensure a safe passage at all cost.

The men understood that even if one of our boats were to fall under enemy attack, the remaining boats were not to engage the enemy. It was clear that even if two of our boats got lost, the others were to proceed to safety.

Our boats neared Bahadurabad junction. We moved quickly along the western bank. It was almost dawn. The first and second boats crossed the Bahadurabad junction quite safely. Each boat maintained a good distance from one another, but kept within sight.

As the third boat traveled about one mile west of Bahadurabad function, it came under enemy fire.

Hundreds of bullets rained around the boat. The boatmen got scared, stopped hauling the boat and fell to the deck for cover.

Simultaneously, the fourth boat got within the firing range of the enemy. The freedom fighters sought my permission for a counter attack. I refused and reminded them of our strategy. I asked them to hold fire.

Basit recited his morning prayers on the canopy of the fourth boat. Bullets hit the mast of his boat and broke it in two. Basit umped down and miraculously escaped unharmed.

The firing continued for fifteen minutes. Since there was no counter firing from the other boats, the enemy was convinced we were amongst the many merchant boats, which typically traveled up and down the river. The enemy stopped firing.

No significant damage was done to our boats. As we crossed Bahadurabad junction, we found that our excitement would be short Erved. When we came near Changalier Char near Jagannathgonj function, we encountered our next threat. Pakistani Army patrol

boats were moving towards Shariakandi in Bogra. We found an alternative route on the west bank. We diverted into a secondary channel behind a sand island. As the patrol boats sailed out of our sight, we proceeded towards our destination, Bhuapur Mukti Bahini camp

We docked at Camp Bhuapur at about noon. The freedom fighters and commanders were thrilled to see us with several boats loaded with arms and ammunition.

In addition to me, the others commanding the boats were Nurul, Lutfur, Basit, Badsha and Zia.

Basit Siddiqui There were several important participants who led to the success of my missions to India. One of them was Basit Siddiqui.

In 1970, Basit was elected to the provincial assembly as an Awami League candidate. Prior to the election, Basit worked as a government servant. After retirement from government services, he became the headmaster of Dhalapara High School.

While both men shared the surname, Siddiqui, Kader and Basit shared no blood relation. However, fate would ensure that their paths would cross nonetheless.

When the liberation war began on March 26th, Basit did not flee to India like many parliament members. Instead, he went underground and soon joined the freedom fighters led by Kader Siddiqui.

I first met Basit at his old house in the second week of July. I had just come from India with the first consignment of arms. A middleaged and bearded man, Basit seemed to be a very gentle and modest person.

The next day, Basit and I accompanied Kader on a short tour to Aschim. This is when I discovered his human qualities and energy.

Though he was a member of the parliament, Basit spent his days with us like an ordinary freedom fighter. On our way back from Aschim, he proposed that we speed up our journey. Although, he was over fifty years old, Basit had as much spirit and energy as any freedom fighter, half his age.

It was on Kader’s instruction that Basit accompanied me on my second mission to India. Basit, Nurul, and I were on a small boat.

During this journey, I discovered some extraordinary qualities in

Basit. I already knew that Basit was a former teacher, a member of parliament, and as old as my father. I, on the other hand, was only twenty-two years old, and still only a university student. And yet, Kader made me the leader of this mission. I wasn’t sure how Basit would take this.

This was not to mention that Basit was very large in stature, almost reminiscent of my father. I had not seen my father in months. As I saw Basit, I was repeatedly reminded of my father. I never conveyed this to Basit, as I didn’t want to give him reason to start acting like my guardian.

On the first day, the mood on the boat was monotonous and serious at the same time. The boatmen rowed continuously. We did our best to pass the time by taking turns sitting on top of the canopy and lying underneath it.

Basit brought about a change to this pattern. He challenged us to a competition in poetry recitation.

Nurul Islam was a trade union leader and likely had no prior interest in poetry.

Although I enjoyed listening to poetry recitations, I was a student of science and had never cultivated interest in reciting poetry myself. At best, I could probably recite no more than few lines of some arbitrary poem from my high school days.

However, Basit surprised us, reciting one poem after another. He was not limited to the works of popular Bengali poets, such as Rabindranath Tagore and Kazi Nazrul Islam, either. Basit eloquently recited even the most complex soliloquies of Shakespeare. What an extraordinary memory he had! Basit was truly a cultured person.

From that day on, the age gap between Basit and I was gone. Throughout the liberation war, we remained friends. Our shared goals bridged the differences in age, education, wealth, and social Hierarchy. We became comrades.

In our nine-month long liberation war, I saw many comradeships hatched in the same way.

The Team of Unarmed Fearless Freedom Fighters Another significant contribution to the success of my missions came, not at the hands of armed soldiers, but rather through my paddle-carrying boatmen. These men helped us bringing arms from India.

I did not know their names. However, I went to India three times. That is six trips by boat. Each time my boatmen and their assistants risked their lives for the mission just as any freedom fighter would have.

These men were masters of the river routes. Every bend in the river, every turn, was an extension of their paddle. The boatmen skillfully evaded the enemy while keeping us safe.

The boatmen were wiry in appearance. They would often go without food for long periods of time, but they never stopped rowing. They were men of great stamina and resolve.

Their goal was to take us safely and swiftly to our destination. These men were not motivated by their wages. Nor did our guns persuade them. These boatmen carried out their duties fueled by their unwavering sense of patriotism.

The boatmen labored endlessly. Their commitment went unrivalled. They faced the perils of great risk and adversity. And yet, nothing deterred them from taking us to our destinations. I cannot express the gratitude I have for them in words.

While traveling by boat we ate once a day. The other soldiers and I often ate a meal of crisp-puffed rice with a small piece of molasses. However, the boatmen needed something more convenient to eat while they rowed. The boatmen ate their rice in glasses filled with water, salt, and green chilies. We called this panta rice.

Although it wasn’t a glamorous fare, the rice and water brew was quite a tasty meal amidst the warmth of the bright sun of the summer.

To this day when I think of panta rice, I instantly return to those moments on the Jamuna River. I return to moments sitting on top of the canopy of the boat as we sped down the waterway, swerving by other boats as we passed whole villages in just seconds. I can still feel the wind blowing through my hair and the river mist splashing against my skin.

People of all walks of life took part in the liberation war. This was a people’s war. There were restless young men like us. There were middle-aged individuals like Basit. There were political leaders and workers like Nurul. And of course, there were working people like the boatmen, the fearless soldiers of the armed forces, women, and patriotic Bengali expatriates all over the world. We were all freedom fighters of 1971.

The Valiant Volunteer Group The Mukti Bahini had an outpost at Bhuapur in the free zone just west of the Tangail-Modhupur Highway. The Pakistani Army was trying incessantly to recapture Bhuapur. It became apparent that storing our arms and ammunition at Bhuapur was no longer safe.

Kader instructed us to carry the new supplies from Bhuapur to the forests of Ghatail-Kalihati, where our headquarters was located. However, we could not carry the entire stockpile by ourselves.

The Mukti Bahini camp at Deopara had fallen to the Pakistani Army. As a result, we were forced to take a detour, which added an extra fifteen miles to our journey. Moreover, there was no direct river-route between our headquarters and Bhuapur.

From Bhuapur we would have to go by boat for about four miles and then lug the arms and ammunitions through the jungles of Ghatail. This required the labor of hundreds of volunteers.

Enayet Karim and Moazzem Hossain were the civilian administrators for the Mukti Bahini in Bhuapur. They had alerted the volunteer groups.

On the evening of August 7th, about six hundred volunteers assembled at Bhuapur. We left Bhuapur for our headquarters by boat in the darkest hours of the night. Basit, Moazzem and Nurul also accompanied the team.

By midnight we arrived at Pakutia Porabari, west of the TangailModhupur Highway. The local intelligence department and volunteers received us.

The volunteers unloaded the arms and started carrying them by shoulder. They carried the heavy containers on strong sticks like palanquins.

Commander Benu and his platoons escorted us. The members of the local Intelligence group briefed us on the security of our route.

Our plan was to cross the highway at a walkway alongside a madrasa. However, Pakistani forces were stationed at Ghatail Police Station only a mile south of the madrasa. They were only a few minutes away by jeep.

We had to take extraordinary precaution to keep the enemy from smelling the presence of more than six hundred freedom fighters and volunteers. Although the moon was hazy in the dimly lit night sky, we took off any white clothing. Even the softest reflection was more than we were willing to risk. We could not allow anything to alert the enemy.

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We divided ourselves into three groups and moved forward silently. Basit was leading the first group. Moazzem and Nurul led the group in the middle and Commander Benu and I led the group at the rear.

Before we started, the two platoons set up lines of defense to the north and south of the highway crossing.

I observed the operation from the madrasa. Six hundred people moved along the village roads and paddy fields in a number of small groups. One by one they crossed the highway with caution and in a disciplined order. And yet with all this activity, the silence was still deafening.

I was reminded of the Vietnam War. On one end of the battlefield there was one of the world’s most powerful armies equipped with the most modern weapons and communication systems imaginable. On the other end, there was the undersized and ill-equipped Vietcong. Yet it was the Vietcong who organized themselves into a united and indomitable army. They, like us, were a people’s army.

The Mukti Bahini was motivated by a patriotic zeal and devotion to preserving the freedom of their people. This is why they risked their lives and fought the Pakistani forces.

Politics aside, it became obvious that the Vietcong and the Mukti Bahini shared a common thread.

The number of Tangail Mukti Bahini volunteers soon rose to about fifty thousand. They lived in their own homes, in their own villages or towns. But when the Mukti Bahini needed them, they were there. Each village’s volunteers worked in groups organized by a designated volunteer leader.

The liberation war had a wonderful effect on village societies. People from all walks of life came together as equals working for a common cause.

We entered the forest two miles to the east of the highway. The entire forest was under our control.

In the early hours of August 8th, we arrived at Chankhola Bazaar with the load of arms. The volunteer groups of Bhuapur broke for food and rest.

They then divided into small groups and proceeded back towards Bhuapur.

The volunteer groups of Chankhola made arrangements for their breakfast. The local volunteers helped us to carry the arms and

ammunition to Basit’s house in Sehrabari.

Kader welcomed us. I briefed him on my meetings with Major General Gill and Brigadier Singh of the Indian Army, and with Major Zia and Major Taher of the Bangladesh Army. I shared with Kader my experiences of the second Indian mission. Basit kept busy by hiding the arms and explosives in different locations throughout the free zone. In the evening, Kader, Basit, Nurul, and I went to the headquarters.

I can hardly give credit to each volunteer who contributed to the success of the Mukti Bahini, but of the names that come to mind are: Siraj Talukder, a student leader; Rahim Mia, a school teacher; Sadek Mia, a retired policeman; Khoka, a day laborer; Karim Ali, a farmer; Abdus Sattar, a professor of Kumudini College; and Shamsul Alam, a high-ranking government official.

A Great Success On August 9th, seven Pakistani Army ships were anchored at Sirajkandi on the Dhaleswari River. They were about six miles west of the Mukti Bahini headquarters at Bhuapur.

Commander Habib, the commander of Bhuapur Mukti Bahini Camp, prepared for an all-out resistance against the likely enemy attack. However, Mukti Bahini Intelligence, with the assistance of the volunteers, reported that two Pakistani ships loaded with arms were moving towards Phulchori in Rangpur.

The intelligence report stated that additional ships were moving along for added protection. These ships were carrying soldiers as well. The arms were to be unloaded at Phulchori and then delivered to the Pakistani cantonment at Syeedpur in Rangpur.

Equipped with this valuable information, Kader instructed Commander Habib to explore an opportunity to attack the ships.

The next day, a strong contingent of Mukti Bahini soldiers moved from Sirajkandi to Matikata under the leadership of Commander Rezaul Karim. This was the same platoon that was trained in India and accompanied me on my mission when I transported the arms from India. However, this would be their first time actively engaging in battle.

On August uth, the ships slowly sailed north. Commander Habib consulted with the Intelligence Division and planned a series of ambushes at different points on the riverbank.

Commander Habib himself moved north and took position between two rural dwellings. The platoon sat on the east side of the river where the water was deepest and easiest for boats to navigate. Slowly, the ships began moving within range of the freedom fighters. The freedom fighters held their fire waiting for direction from their leaders, but Commander Habib and Rezaul Karim patiently waited for their prey.

Two small ships passed the awaiting freedom fighters. However, Habib didn’t open fire. Another ship sailed by and still Habib’s guns did not discharge.

The freedom fighters had been waiting in utter excitement. Their hearts pounded. Sweat dripped from their brows, their fingers itching at the trigger, but the freedom fighters waited. They would not fire without Commander Habib’s order.

Finally, two large ships loaded with arms came into sight. Commander Habib pulled the trigger on his machinegun and Manzur fired his rocket launcher. Then like a chain reaction, the rest of the Mukti Bahini joined in on the offensive.

The attack was so sudden and intense. The first three ships that had just sailed by lacked the courage to turn around for a counterattack. They fled and continued heading west. The other two defensive ships that followed did the same.

Under the intense strike of the Mukti Bahini, the cabins of the ship’s officers and the position of Pakistani forces were completely destroyed.

Pakistani Captain Amanullah Khan managed to flee. However, Assistant Lieutenant Ataullah and Subedar Rahim Khan, along with another fifteen enemy soldiers were killed. The enemy soldiers who survived left the dead bodies of their comrades and fled away in two speedboats.

Three freedom fighters became martyrs on this day. Seven others were injured.

There was a Bengali sailor onboard the Pakistani ship by the name of Gulam Mustafa. He was an informer for the Mukti Bahini.

Nearly a month prior to the attack, Gulam had established contact with Kader. It was he, who informed us of the Pakistani ships’ movement

Though the battle lasted for less than an hour, its consequences proved to be much more significant. The two wrecked ships were stuck on the western bank.

Habib rescued Gulam who had jumped into the river. Once, safe and dry, Gulam briefed Habib on the kind of ammunition and artillery onboard the two ships.

Commander Habib decided that we would unload all the cargo, but take only those items that could be utilized by the Mukti Bahini. Within an hour the volunteers were alerted and the unloading began.

Nearly five hundred members of the Mukti Bahini and volunteers unloaded and carried the arms by hand and by boat to nearby villages. The arms needed to be hidden. However, even with the help of so many able bodies, we only salvaged forty percent of the military stockpile.

Major Habib anticipated an all-out counter attack by the Pakistani Army to rescue the ships. He decided his safest course of attack would be to set the ships ablaze.

Volunteers Zia, Jamshed, and Gulam started on setting the ships on fire. Suddenly, a fierce chain of blasts resonated down the river as the arms and ammunitions began to explode. The scene was reminiscent of a fireworks show. All of Bhuapur cheered with joys of victory

It was a great triumph for the Mukti Bahini.

In the nine-months of the liberation war, the destruction of ships at Matikata was a seminal event. News of this event was broadcasted throughout the world on the BBC, the Voice of America, Indian Radio, Free Bangla Radio and other foreign media outlets.

There were more than one hundred and twenty thousand boxes containing arms and ammunition of Chinese, British, and American origin. The value of this stockpile was more than five million dollars. The majority of this was destroyed in the fire, but of more concern to the Pakistani Army was the fact that much of the ammunition was in our possession.

In the early morning hours of August 12th, Kader was informed of the event at Sehrabari. Kader and some of his comrades, myself included, proceeded to Bhuapur. We walked quite a distance and then traveled by boat for another fifty miles before we reached the village of Panchtikri.

Even from our vantage point, blasts were heard at a distance of seven or eight miles. While resting that afternoon at Faldarbazar, a mortar shell exploded just three or four hundred yards away from

us.

Kader began reviewing the situation on the basis of the report furnished by the local commanders. The commanders reported that a brigade of the Pakistani Army had started moving towards Bhuapur via Elenga and Palima, from Tangail.

The companies of Khorshed Alam and Humayun had put up a tough resistance. However, the Pakistani Army continued to mount massive-pressure on the Mukti Bahini. Their aim was to rescue their ship.

In the morning of August 15th, we understood that the enemy was proceeding to Bhuapur from every direction. From the north, one unti was moving from Gopalpur via Hemnagar. From the east, another unit was moving from Kalihati by motor-launch. From the south, another group proceeded from Tangail, straight to Bhuapur. The enemy had us surrounded.

Humayun and his company were holding off enemy forces that attacked via river routes. Unfortunately, the push of the Pakistani commando brigade from the south had created severe pressure and forced the Mukti Bahini to retreat.

This regiment was equipped with heavy arms. They could reach Bhuapur by road within a very short time. Something had to be done.

Kader selected a special squad and marched south. They destroyed a bridge on the Bhuapur-Tangail Highway. This halted enemy movement by road. Unfortunately Kader sustained some minor injuries during this operation.

By noon, two saber jets flew over Matikata unleashing a violent machinegun and rocket attack. This air raid resulted in significant civilian-property damage, including the destruction of several village dwellings and the loss of cattle. One freedom fighter was also injured.

As the air raid ended, five Pakistani motorboats, anchored behind the ship wreckage, attempted to land at Matikata. Just then the Commander Habib and Gafur and their companies came out of the trenches and attacked the Pakistani soldiers, forcing the enemy to retreat.

Enemy pressure intensified through the day. The freedom fighters and the volunteers had been engaged in a continuous battle for a number of days.

By now the men were tired, hungry and weak. Kader assessed the situation and ordered the units to leave the outpost at Bhuapur and seek refuge amidst the forests of the free Eastern Zone.

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Throughout the afternoon, we prepared to leave Bhuapur. The information was passed to each Mukti Bahini unit. We had to protect our positions till dark, at which point we would proceed to our headquarters. Arrangements were made to remove the arms and ammunitions stored at Bhuapur Girls’ School.

Those who played very important roles in this battle were Motahar Hossain, Zia-Ul-Huq, Jamshed, Akbar, Samad, Gama, Samsur, Lutfur Rahman, Lutfor, Saidur, the policeman, Salam, Alim, Bhola, Abdul Bari, Dudu Mia, Enayet Karim, Moazzem Hossain, Rezaul Karim, and above all, a valiant freedom fighterCommander Habib.

It was just two days prior to the battle that all of Bhuapur danced in joy. But now, the situation was tense. Since the Mukti Bahini had retreated, the villagers became apprehensive of an attack by the Pakistan Army. People began leaving Bhuapur. There were still about forty freedom fighters including Kader and I at Bhuapur.

At about nine in the evening, a report came to us that all units had left Bhuapur. With great dismay and anguish, we too proceeded towards the headquarters.

Commander Habibur Rahman Bir Bikram Prior to the war, Habib was a member of the Pakistan Army stationed at Jessore Cadet College. Soon after the start of the war, he left the army and came to Tangail to join the Mukti Bahini.

Within a short period of time, he was promoted to the rank of a commander. This daring freedom fighter became a legend after proving his valor by heroically capturing an enemy ship loaded with arms.

After the war, Habib would receive the second highest gallantry award for living-war heroes, “Bir Bikram.”

Habib played an important role in our success in the liberation war. However, despite his military success, his personal life was riddled with misfortune.

Unfortunately, an independent Bangladesh did not provide him with a good job or a viable business opportunity.

The press had reported that his finances were in such dire straits that he had trouble marrying off his daughter.

Finally, in the winter years of his life, Habib fell ill. With no money, or other means for medical treatment, Habib was left to die alone.

In a desperate move, he rode his bicycle to the office of the district commissioner to seek help from the government.

Unfortunately, on his way to the office he had a massive heart attack and his lifeless body fell to the roadside.

To this day, Habib’s family suffers from economic hardships. Soon after his death, a social organization in Tangail donated a bicycle to the son of Habibur Rahman “Bir Bikram”.

How futile? How shameful?

The Traitor By four o’clock in the morning, we arrived near the village of Garjana. We were east of the Tangail-Modhupur highway.

The sunlight peeked just over the horizon and the enemy was already on patrol. Without cover of darkness, it was unsafe to cross the road.

Kader decided that we should take a day for rest and continue after sunset.

We dispersed in different groups through various houses in the village. The owner of the house in which Kader and I took shelter was a member of the local council.

Our host expressed how fortunate and honored he felt to be able to render services to the Mukti Bahini. He immediately served us some crisp puffed rice and molasses. Our host then ordered his men to prepare some hot meals.

The men slaughtered three goats to prepare a feast for us. We were tired and hungry. The anticipation of our first sumptuous meal in months made our mouths water. We were excited!

However, the cooking process moved slowly. While we waited, we received reports that Commanders Benu and Khorshed and their companies could not cross the highway the previous night. They had taken shelter on the other side of Garjana. Kader asked the commanders to join him for consultation.

Garjana and its surrounding areas were inundated by water during the rainy season. Each house looked like an island. You needed a boat to go from one house to another, let alone, from one village to the other.

It was already eleven in the morning, but still there was no sign that our meals were ready.

Kader became suspicious. We noticed that the women and

children of the house were leaving with small bundles. This further heightened our suspicion.

As our local intelligence and volunteers learned of our whereabouts, they informed us that our host was a staunch supporter of Pakistan.

From the start of the war, Pakistani authorities had put a price of one hundred thousand takas on Kader Siddiqui’s head.

It would seem that our host was quite greedy and was quick to report to the Pakistani camp in Ghatail that Kader Siddiqui was at his home.

By noon, Kader looked through his binoculars and saw ten Pakistani Army boats moving towards Garjana from the direction of Brahmanshashon.

Immediately, Kader ordered a counter-attack. He instructed Commanders Khorshed and Benu to return to their respective units.

Quickly, Kader left the house and moved to the next one. He was accompanied by twenty freedom fighters. They set up an ambush behind a raised earthen base covered in heaps of straw.

The other freedom fighters and I strategically took position in another house. We were to provide cover-fire to protect Kader’s position.

The enemy boats divided into two groups and proceeded toward the position of the Mukti Bahini on the other side of Garjana.

As the enemy approached the Mukti Bahini’s position, a fierce battle erupted before Commanders Khorshed and Benu could return to their respective units.

The gun blasts resonated across the water. The village was caught off guard. The quaking grenade explosions terrified the villagers. As machinegun shells and smoke scattered through the air, frantic women and children made their escape to neighboring villages.

The enemy was also taken back by the ferocity of our counterstrike.

At one point, the enemy got off the boat and took a defensive position at a house adjacent to the freedom fighters.

Benu’s company was under attack. However, his unit was fighting back.

The firing went on ceaselessly. The tide of the battle turned steadily in favor of the Mukti Bahini.

Suddenly, Commander Khorshed noticed two Pakistani soldiers crawling to the east of their house. Commander Khorshed jumped

out from behind his cover and opened fire on the two soldiers.

Just at that moment two enemy bullets pierced through Khorshed’s hand and the right side of his belly. A nearby freedom fighter, Jahangir, was able to drag Khorshed to safety.

In the face of a fierce counter-attack by the Mukti Bahini, the enemy soldiers retreated to their boats and headed towards Ghatail.

During this hour-long battle, Kader never had the opportunity to ambush the enemy. They never even made it into his firing range However, Kader’s luck began to change.

Enemy boats then headed towards his position. He immediately alerted his squad for action.

As the enemy boats came within range, Kader pulled the trigger of his LMG. Causing a chain reaction, nineteen other machineguns roared simultaneously behind Kader’s.

The battle lasted for only five minutes. As the smoke cleared, five enemy boats sank into the water.

Our unit’s role was to cover Kader and his squad, but with such a brief battle, we had no opportunity to open fire.

The remaining five boats retreated to Ghatail behind cover-fire.

We recovered seven dead enemy bodies. The number of enemy soldiers who drowned was unknown.

In the meantime, Kader instructed all of his units to assemble at a village to the west of Golganda and Ratanpur.

While Commanders Khorshed and Benu’s companies fought a fierce battle with the enemy, six freedom fighters were lost in action.

Their names were Aslat, Sriti, Moti, Anis, Kamal and Mintu. Although they fought gallantly, they ran out of ammunition and jumped into the water to save their lives. They were listed as missing.

Khondoker Nurul Islam was a middle-aged man and the general secretary of Kalihati Thana Awami League. He volunteered to lead a rescue mission to find the missing freedom fighters.

Khondoker took a small boat and combed through the paddy fields. Finally, he found the men hidden amongst the tall stalks of the paddy.

In the mid-afternoon, we went to Ratanpur to check on Commander Khorshed. We found that he had not yet received any medical treatment. The volunteers’ communication network had broken down and therefore, the medics could not be contacted.

I was a student of biochemistry, and thus, had seen my share of rat dissections. However, I never imagined what it would be like to

see the open wounds of a comrade.

Commander Khorshed was groaning in pain. Kader assured him that we would do everything possible to provide him medical treatment and security. Kader entrusted Bulbul Khan and me with this responsibility.

Meanwhile, Kader decided that we would cross the highway that night and instructed us all to be ready.

We were all waiting in a village on the west of Porabari Pakutia. We were tired and hungry. Since we had left the headquarters, we had not had a regular meal.

Kader’s personal squad had a reputation of enduring hardships. However, we were all exhausted from the non-stop fighting. Having gone the last forty-eight hours with hardly any food, we grew weak. We had to survive on water alone.

Our host’s treachery not only jeopardized the lives of five hundred Mukti Bahini, but his false promise of a feast was evermore agonizing for us now.

Moreover, the threat of further enemy attack was still very real. Only now, we lacked the strength to fight back.

We counted the minutes waiting for sunset, but the wait seemed eternal.

On the other hand, since August 15th, the enemy was on a roundthe-clock patrol of Tangail-Modhupur Highway. They were particularly vigilant near the madrasa.

In order to mislead the enemy, we leaked a message indicating that as before, we would cross the highway near the madrasa at night

However, Kader sent a secret message to all units asking us to reconvene at Pakutia Porabari, a few miles north of the madrasa.

Our intelligence department informed us that the enemy was pacing back and forth every fifteen minutes, from north to south along the highway near the madrasa. This would give us a window of exactly fifteen minutes to cross the highway.

In the evening, we divided ourselves into small groups and waited in the jungle about three hundred yards west of the highway. We prepared to cross the highway at ten o’clock.

As enemy patrol cars went away, two platoons from Benu’s company set up barricades at the north and south sides of the crossing

At first, three large groups crossed the highway cautiously and

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quickly.

I was in the second group with the wounded Commander Khorshed. He was lying-flat on a makeshift stretcher improvised from a level piece of wood supported by two bamboo poles. He was carried by four freedom fighters.

While crossing the paddy field, the freedom fighters raised Commander Khorshed’s body up so that the paddy stalks did not exacerbate his injuries.

We, too, crossed the road very carefully. However, because of the wounded Commander Khorshed, we couldn’t move as swiftly as the unit in front of us.

After crossing the highway, I took position in a paddy field near the highway in order to guide the units that followed me.

Kader stayed on the adjacent side of the crossing where he directed the units across the highway.

After all the freedom fighters had safely crossed the highway, Kader made his way across as well. He then shouted my name to find my location and joined me.

After we successfully crossed the highway, the two defense units who had barricaded the road, crossed and joined us.

At midnight, we reached a village four miles east of Porabari. Once again, we took shelter in the house of a local council member. Unlike our previous host, this council member was on our side. He cordially welcomed us into his home.

Kader instructed our convoy to spread ourselves among ten houses. Though this was a free zone, a strong contingent of Mukti Bahini guards was posted for our defense.

Despite the hospitality of our host and his village, we were still unable to arrange medical treatment for Commander Khorshed. We were only able to provide some fresh bandages and hot milk.

Despite our late arrival, our host graciously prepared a quick meal. After three long and arduous days, this was our first hot meal. We ate to our heart’s content.

Our meal consisted of steamed rice with split pea soup. I never knew that the simple combination of rice and soup could be so delicious and satisfying.

Kader reminded Bulbul and me of our responsibility. Attending to Commander Khorshed’s medical treatment was our first priority.

In the early hours of August 15th, after three long days and nights, we finally had the opportunity to lie down. With so many of

us in one house, we were sprawled across the veranda and the courtyard of the house. Kader and I were among the lucky few who got a bed inside.

I reflected on the extraordinary help and cooperation that the volunteers had given us. I thought of the great courage and sacrifice displayed by the freedom fighters. I also remembered the treachery of the Bengali traitor whose actions jeopardized the lives of five hundred freedom fighters. As I absorbed the events of the last few days, my weary body gave into sleep.

The Treatment of Khorshed Alam August 15th, 5:30 AM. I woke up to the painful groans of Commander Khorshed. He had already gone twenty hours without medical treatment. Unfortunately, we were still without any medical supplies. My words were all I had to offer him in consolation.

Kader ordered us to move out of the village at six-thirty in the morning. With only an hour to spare, we hurried but were punctual with our departure.

We were fortunate to get a few hours of sleep and some food. Our host’s hospitality was refreshing, but fatigue continued to take its

toll.

There were about four hundred of us. We divided ourselves into groups and started moving towards our headquarters.

Our journey led us through the hilly areas. All of our outposts to the west had fallen. Therefore, we were open to an attack from the rear.

Kader ordered us to keep marching. At a slow pace, we moved forward towards the east.

Bulbul, Nurul, and I led a team of one hundred freedom fighters. The wounded Commander Khorshed was also with us, groaning in

pain.

Four freedom fighters carried Khorshed in his improvised stretcher. We held his hand, taking turns trying to comfort the wounded commander. However, his cries of pain indicated that our efforts were futile.

Khorshed, a middle-aged man, was the leader of Ghatail Thana Awami League before the war broke out. Only a few civilians became commanders of the Mukti Bahini. Khorshed was one of the rare few.

Since I frequented the eastern zone on my way to India, I became closely acquainted with the commander. I was given the responsibility of getting medical care and treatment to my wounded comrade. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do.

I felt utterly helpless and frustrated. However, some things were simply beyond my control. Against the backdrop of pain-riddled screams, all I could do was mumble a prayer and ask for Allah’s blessings.

At about ten o’clock in the morning, we reached Chaankhola Bazaar. A group of volunteers welcomed us. Kader instructed them to go ahead to Pecharati Bazaar, arrange food for four a hundred freedom fighters and facilitate medical treatment for Khorshed.

Sometime during the last few days, our communication system had been cut. We were on the edge of desperation, but the presence of these new volunteers was encouraging.

After half an hour, as we neared Pecharati Bazaar, a leader of the local volunteers came running with medicine in-hand.

He said, “We have no doctor here. The best I could do was to collect these basic medical supplies from the general store.” He added that several houses, just a half a mile ahead, had arranged lunch for us.

We immediately stopped to take care of Commander Khorshed.

Kader washed the wound with Dettol, an antiseptic, and rebandaged the commander. He then administered a penicillin injection and some painkillers. Bulbul, Nurul, Khoka, Dulal, and I helped Kader in this process.

We resumed our journey. After half a mile, we arrived at Pecharati Bazaar and stopped for lunch.

Our team was first to be fed, since the commander’s life was still in our hands. We had to get Commander Khorshed to the Mukti Bahini hospital as quickly as possible.

After a quick bite, our group continued walking, carrying the commander as before.

As we were about to leave, Commander Khorshed suddenly broke into tears as he said his goodbyes to his commander, Kader.

Kader embraced Khorshed and said: “Nabi and Bulbul will take you to the hospital. Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll be as good as new.”

Kader handed me the rest of the medical supplies and reminded us of our duty to Commander Khorshed’s medical treatment.

We directly proceeded to the Mukti Bahini hospital, and dropped

off Commander Khorshed. We then made our way to the Mukti Bahini headquarters.

Kader Wounded At noon of August 15th, Kader arrived at Basit’s house in Sehrabari. Only four days ago, he left for Bhuapur from this very house.

However, in those four days, the state of the war had taken a dangerous turn. The enemy lost several ships loaded with arms. They lost a fierce battle at Garjana. And now they were extremely desperate.

Two Pakistani brigades began mounting simultaneous offensives, from all sides.

The enemy was attacking every defensive outpost of the Mukti Bahini. They attacked the eastern sectors at Baid, Fulbaria, and Bhaluka. In the north, they attacked Rangamati. In the south, they attacked Patharghata. In the southwest they attacked Baharatul. In the far west they attacked Dhalapara. Fierce battles continued in these areas for several days.

Two days earlier, we were forced to abandon Bhuapur and the liberated zones of the west. Now, the enemy took the battle to the east.

Kader reassessed the state of the war and contemplated leading his troops to where the enemy’s attack would be most intense.

However, he did not have to contemplate for long. While he was at Sehrabari, Kader got the enemy’s attention. He was up for the challenge.

Kader penned his experience in his book Shadhinata 71:

Dhalapara was two miles west of Sehrabari. As the sounds of firing reached my ears, the earth began to tremble

I was contemplating asking someone to fetch me an updated report. Just at that moment I was informed of the enemy attack on the Mukti Bahini defense outpost at Dhalapara.

I quickly outlined my plan. There were about two thousand freedom fighters at the defense outpost at Dhalapara. This was the largest number of freedom fighters to have ever participated in any single battle.

Commanders Habib, Gafur, and Humayun joined the forces at Dhalapara on the afternoon of August 14. Earlier I had instructed

Commander Lokman to hand-over the command of Dhalapara outpost to Commander Habib.

I strongly believed that it was impossible for the enemy to cross over the Bangshai River. There was no way that they could pierce through a defense-line of two thousand freedom fighters.

Moreover, I thought an attack on the enemy position fortified with heavy artillery would be futile. However, if the enemy were prevented from crossing the Bangshai River, they would not dare stay overnight on the riverbank. They would have no choice. They would have to retreat before sunset.

Furthermore, if we were to setup an ambush on the other side of the river while the enemy retreated, we could really teach them a lesson

With this plan, I left Sehrabari with Commander Benu and moved west. We crossed the Bangshai River, north of the enemy’s position. We then moved further west behind the enemy position and then moved southwest near a road that the enemy was likely to utilize in retreat.

I then instructed Commander Benu to take his team two miles farther west to ambush the enemy on the road to Ghatail. As Benu left, I scouted the area and then found a tactical location on the south of Ghatail-Dhalapara road. I set up my ambush here.

Twenty-five yards to my right, Quddus, Khoka, and Selim were guarding the road. On my left were Halim, Dulal, and Kashem. Samsu, Saidur, Fazlu, and I were in the middle.

I had instructed both groups to hold their fire unless we were attacked. We were about fifty yards from the road. We got into firing-position and waited for an opportune moment.

August 16th. 1:15 PM.

The first enemy group retreated west. They walked briskly, but stayed in file, keeping some distance from one another.

Earlier in the day, they faced stiff resistance from the companies of commanders Hakim, Habib, Gafur, Lokman, and Humayun at Dhalapara ferryboat dock. They abandoned their plan to cross the river. They were forced to retreat to Ghatail.

We were waiting for our enemies. Our ambush was ready. We were thoroughly prepared to attack.

There were about twenty Pakistani soldiers in the first group that walked by us. They seemed unconcerned.

Then several groups, one after another, followed walking

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westward. I observed their movements and waited for the right moment. Like a wet crow on a rainy day, I sat fixed and firm, waiting for enough of the worm to peek through the mud.

I did not wait long. The anticipated moment arrived. It was twenty past one. About fifty soldiers were running out of formation. It was as if they were running for their lives. They appeared desperate to retreat.

Without hesitation, I fired at them. The soldiers didn’t see the attack coming. They were in an open field with no place to hide.

Saidur, Samsu, and I fired on the enemy soldiers, who all fell to the ground. A few enemy soldiers tried to take cover under the mounting piles of dead bodies and return fire. However, the situation was not in their favor. They were in no position to counterattack. They had no choice, but to receive our bullets.

A few Pakistani soldiers tried to move in on us from the east, but Khoka, Quddus, and Selim opened fired on them. During the battle the chain on my Chinese LMG jammed, so I grabbed a British LMG from Saidur and went on firing.

Every moment was precious. But once again, the chain jammed. I took a Sten gun from Samsu.

The enemy still returned fire, but their blasts became less and less frequent. They were so confused and disoriented that they could not figure out which direction our shots were coming from.

I had started firing the Chinese LMG again. As I fired twenty-five or fifty rounds, the gun jammed, yet again. I fixed the jam and started firing again. After about ten or twelve rounds, it got stuck again. Frustrated, I opened the gun and very carefully realigned the bullets.

Meanwhile, Saidur, and Samsu continued firing on the enemy. As I was lining up the last bullet, I felt my LMG tremble. I felt something in my palm. I felt a flash rush through my leg.

It all happened in seconds. I couldn’t make sense of it. I looked up to fire the LMG again. Blood squirted from right hand and splashed against my face. I was blinded.

I used my left hand to wipe my eyes and face. I pressed down on my wound and fired my LMG again. After some more rounds, the chain got stuck again. The handle of the LMG was now all covered in blood. I never realized that my body could carry so much blood.

Samsu and Saidur repeatedly asked me to retreat. I replied, “Yes, you two are right. Samsu, give me your gun and

you bring the LMG.”

I came down a twenty-foot slope. Samsu bent down to pick up the LMG, but the bi-pods of the LMG were embedded into the ground. After several heaves, Samsu pulled out the LMG and rolled down the slope with it

Coincidentally, when I got hit, the enemy stopped firing and quickly retreated west. We pulled back about fifty yards to a safe place.

The battle only lasted ten minutes. The three of us were able to take out thirty Pakistani soldiers. Our comrades to the left and right of us, Khoka, Quddus, Selim, Dulal, Halim, Amzad, and Kasem also inflicted heavy casualties on the enemy.

The only loss that the Mukti Bahini suffered was my injury. An enemy bullet had broken the sight-knob of my LMG. When the knob had splintered, it shattered and hit my palm and at a spot one inch above my knee.

We moved south from Makrai to Baid where we found an empty shed. The blood was still oozing from my wound.

Dulal and Khoka tore their shirts and bandaged my hand tightly. However, blood was still flowing profusely from my foot. Slowly, I rolled up my trouser leg and found the wound above my knee. As I washed the wound carefully, I could see that the bullet was still lodged in my leg.

Using my left hand, I put my finger about an inch into the wound until I felt something solid. I removed my finger and repeatedly pressed hard on two sides of the wound until the bullet came out.

Selim Siddiqui, overwhelmed by the situation, looked at me and cried, “What will happen to us now?”

I asked him to be calm and said, “Look, nothing has happened to me, I am alright”

But my words did little to ease the tension. I looked around and saw that my other comrades were also very worried.

It was very painful to keep my trousers on. We bought a coarse lungi from a local villager with which I was able to substitute for my trousers.

Even in this situation, I had to send written instructions to Commanders Habib and Hakim who were stationed at Dhalapara post.

I wrote, “Cross the river and move ahead to Makrai. There, you will find the scattered dead bodies of our enemies and their

weapons. I sustained a minor bullet-wound to my hand, so I was unable to write this letter myself. However, I am signing it with my left hand so the signature may look a bit different.”

A freedom fighter delivered this letter to Dhalapara. I left Makrai and went to Chambaltala.

I realized that the wounds had taken their toll and my body had gotten weak. I felt as if I could collapse at any moment. It was imperative that I get to safer grounds as soon as possible.

I stopped at the house of a volunteer named Tula. With wounds to my hand and leg, I somehow walked nearly two miles.

By the time I had arrived to Tula’s house, I had a very high temperature. I had lost so much blood that I began to feel dizzy. I was getting nauseous.

My comrades carried me to a large table in the outer courtyard of the house.

Lying on the table, I felt as if the room was spinning and I was sinking. My body was burning up.

I closed my eyes. Against the darkness of my eyelids, I saw the fireflies dance. I became senseless.

Hatem the Martyr The enemies who survived the battle at Dhalapara most likely used wireless communication to report their precarious condition and the events of the battle to their headquarters at Ghatail.

As a result, a regiment of Pakistani Army soldiers started moving in to rescue them. A group of freedom fighters under the leadership of Commander Benu had been waiting on the roadside with spying eyes. Hatem, Aslat, and Junior Fazlu had Chinese rifles with them, while the others had Sten guns.

The enemy soldiers came quite close to commander Benu. Benu pulled the trigger on his Sten gun, but there was no fire. Helpless, Benu cried out, “Fire! Fire!”

Before the freedom fighters could react, the enemy started firing their automatic weapons.

Seven freedom fighters including Hatem were too close to the enemy to retreat. If only Benu’s gun did not malfunction, the battle would have been in our favor.

Commander Benu instructed his team to retreat. However, Hatem and Fazlu could not hear his command, as they were

detached from the main squad.

Hiding in a bush, Hatem fired ceaselessly at the enemy. He killed four Pakistani soldiers and wounded seven more. Just as he emptied the last round from his Chinese rifle, three enemy bullets hit him and he fell to the brush. The enemy scurried around looking for him. However, despite their efforts, they could not find him. His wounded body was still hidden behind the bush.

The rest of the Hatem’s squad retreated to a safe place. However, they did not know that Hatem was wounded. Fazlu looked everywhere for his comrades. When he found Halim and Dulal, they retreated to a safe place. Unfortunately, they too were unaware that Hatem was wounded and left behind on the battlefield.

When the enemy retreated, the volunteers brought Hatem to Sehrabari. Even Commander Benu was uninformed of Hatem’s condition. He assumed that with his instruction to retreat, all of his comrades had returned safely.

At Sehrabari, Hatem was given first aid, but his condition still deteriorated. Hatem said, “I may not live long, but before I die I want to see Kader, my leader. I passed exhaustive tests before he allowed me to join the Mukti Bahini. I want to tell him that I upheld his

trust.”

As his voice quivered with increasing pain, Hatem repeated himself over and over again, “I want to see Kader. This is my dying wish…my final will.”

Three bullets had hit Hatem. Two pierced through his right shoulder and a third bullet hit his lower chest and was still lodged in his back peeking through his skin.

Hatem was a rare example of a patriot. He was a teenager. When he came to join the Mukti Bahini, the recruiting officer rejected him because he looked too young. In fact, he had always looked younger than his age.

Hatem was infuriated by the rejection and cursed the recruiting officer. He was detained and beaten up for his misconduct. He was given money for his treatment and sent home. To our surprise, he came back to join the Mukti Bahini again.

He was given several physical tests. Surprisingly, he passed each one with flying colors and was admitted into the Mukti Bahini. He was given several difficult assignments, but he never complained. He became one of the most reliable freedom fighters in the Mukti Bahini.

Hatem was the only child from a poor family. Today, most Bangladeshis may not know of Hatem’s sacrifice to the liberation struggle. However, thousands of freedom fighters in Tangail will always remember him. He was a hero who fought the enemy and sacrificed his life to liberate our motherland.

Future generations deserve to know his story.

Seized by the Enemy Shaheed, Dr. Chowdhury, Faruk, Syed and others welcomed me at the headquarters. They were all waiting eagerly for my return. I told them what I had gone through over the past few days. I covered everything from the captured enemy ships, the fall of Bhuapur, the traitor, the battle with the Pakistani Army in the village Garjana, and the injury of Commander Khorshed.

Around eleven at night, as we were preparing to go to sleep, two freedom fighters from Kader’s squad arrived at the headquarters. They delivered a note to Anwar-ul Alam Shaheed.

The note read, “Please send Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury with the bearer of this letter”.

Dr. Chowdhury obliged. The rest of us were anxious.

What might have happened? Who was Dr. Chowdhury called to see? These questions began eating at us.

Dr. Chowdhury returned after two hours. He had a very serious look on his face.

On our repeated insistence, he disclosed, “Sir is seriously wounded.”

The freedom fighters greeted Kader with “Sir.” Dr. Chowdhury told us, “Sir has forbidden me to tell others. But, this is a serious matter and I must share it with you.”

We were informed that Kader was wounded around noon and soon after became feverish. Amidst tremendous pain, he became senseless and was taken to a house. The women of the house were able to nurse him back to his senses, before he had set off for Mohanandapur headquarters by boat. However, in the midst of his journey, his condition had worsened and he stopped at the house where his family was hiding. From there he had called for Dr. Chowdhury

Everybody in Kader’s family was worried at the sight of his wounds. Dr. Chowdhury washed the wound and applied a fresh

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dressing. He administered the necessary injections and arranged for medication.

It was a matter of sheer luck that Kader was alive. If the bullet had not hit his LMG’s scope and veered off course, it would have gone straight through Kader’s chest.

Dr. Chowdhury informed us of more bad news. Hatem, the great freedom fighter had died. I shivered in pain.

The night of July 8th, during my journey from Bhuapur to the headquarters, Hatem was appointed to be my personal guard. Along our journey there was a moment of threat, at which point, Hatem got me to safety, while he risked his life and confronted the danger head on.

Now, this brave young freedom fighter was no more. He had become a martyr.

This news was so shocking that I thought I had lost my own brother.

Only two days ago, Kader looked after the medical treatment of Commander Khorshed. And today he himself was seriously wounded.

As I pondered the fates of the wounded Commander Khorshed, Kader Siddiqui, and the martyred Hatem, I asked myself, “What else could lie ahead? What will the next moment bring?”

I suppose this is life, and life is unpredictable.

The next day, anxiety pulsed through the headquarters. We received news of fighting in every sector.

Desperate, the enemy continued their all-out attack against every Mukti Bahini post in the free zone. However, the outposts of the Mukti Bahini held their ground and resisted the Pakistani Army’s onslaught.

Yet, even against the backdrop of such good news, we were apprehensive as our commander-in-chief’s health remained uncertain. We had to know what really happened to Kader. Was Dr. Chowdhury keeping something from us?

Later that evening, Kader called for Shaheed and me to meet him at Shurirchala. Kader was staying with his family at a farmhouse there, owned by Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury. Justice Chowdhury was serving as a roaming-embassador of the Provisional Bangladesh Government. He was stationed in London. His farmhouse was close to our headquarters.

Still befuddled with concern and worry, Shaheed and I made our

way to see Kader at once. Unfortunately, it was immediately evident that our concerns were warranted.

Kader’s condition was more serious than what Dr. Chowdhury had previously led us to believe. Kader received us from his bedside, tightly wound in a blanket. We greeted him and anxiously inquired, “What happened to you, Sir?”

Slowly, Kader extended his right arm from underneath his blanket and revealed his hand. The bandages were still soaked in blood. His hand was red and swollen to the size of a goalkeeper’s glove. He then pulled back his blanket from over his knee and exposed a second bullet wound just above the joint. As sweat dripped from his brow, we touched his forehead and found that he was running a high fever.

Despite what his body revealed, Kader’s spirit told a much different story. His voice never showed signs of worry. Rather, he was extremely upbeat and buoyant. Even while bed-ridden, Kader proved that he was still the commander-in-chief.

It was clear to us that Kader’s wound was very serious. In order to recuperate completely and rejoin the war, Kader would need at least a month of rest.

We were stuck in a Catch-22. On one hand, Kader’s health was of the utmost importance. On the other hand, his absence on the battlefield would dishearten the freedom fighters during a critical juncture of the war.

Shaheed argued, “The war is in our favor right now. If we can hold our resistance for a few more days, it is likely that the enemy would abandon their thrust into the free zones. However, news of Kader’s injuries could weaken the freedom fighters’ psyche. We need to be careful about how we approach this situation.”

Kader agreed with our concerns.

As a cautionary measure, Kader asked Shaheed to move some important documents from the headquarters to a more secure location.

He then instructed me to proceed to India on a third mission. He advised me to convey the state of the war in Tangail to the Indian authorities. He instructed me to solicit their help in pressuring the Pakistani Army at the border outposts in order to ease the pressure on us.

The next morning, Nurul and I left the headquarters for India. At midday, we arrived at the house of Kasem, a freedom fighter from

Rosulpur Village

In order to safely cross the Tangail-Mymensingh Highway and get to Bhuapur, we would have to travel at night. Bhuapur was the gateway to the Jamuna River.

However, unlike our previous missions, it would seem this time, luck was not on our side. Kasem told us that each route out of the forest was closed. Enemy soldiers had placed blockades along the forest paths in order to limit the mobility of the freedom fighters. We immediately changed our plan and returned to the headquarters.

On our way back, we stopped at Basit’s house in Sehrabari. But little did we know, there was more shocking and significant news waiting for us further ahead.

Earlier that day, a very strong Mukti Bahini outpost at Dhalapara had fallen. It was a serious blow for our war strategy. The fall of Dhalapara meant that the key to infiltrating the free zone had been snatched by the enemy.

Over the previous two days, enemy soldiers had suffered substantial losses in Dhalapara. In desperation, they launched longdistance mortar attacks from Ghatail and intensified their offensives against the Mukti Bahini.

After two weeks of continuous fighting, our freedom fighters were exhausted. They had little or no food. There was no time to rest. They had no choice, but to retreat. To defend the outpost any longer would have been suicidal.

We hastened back to the headquarters and informed Kader of this shocking development.

That night Kader called us to Shurirchala again. It was here that a very important meeting took place – a meeting that would prove to be of great consequence to the history of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Kader, Shaheed, Faruk Ahmed, Syed Nuru, Khorshed Alam, Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury and I conducted a comprehensive review of the prevailing war situation. With the fall of Dhalapara, the momentum had shifted in favor of the enemy. The Mukti Bahini outposts to the east were now vulnerable to attack. Moreover, we no longer had a strong position in the west. We each expressed our thoughts and waited for Kader’s input.

He mulled over the situation and stated, “We have to slow the momentum of the war for the time being. We cannot risk great losses for the sake of protecting just a few outposts. While it is our

duty to resist the enemy’s advances, our primary mission is to destroy the enemy using hit-and-run guerilla tactics which minimize our casualties.”

Kader then added, “I know our freedom fighters are tired. They have been fighting for nearly twenty days without pause. In the last few days, we have lost more than fifty freedom fighters to death and injury. If this pace continues for another two weeks, we are sure to run out of arms and ammunition. While we have been fortunate in the past, we cannot rely on the off chance of capturing enemy supplies. We will need to enact a self-imposed ceasefire for the time being.”

Kader then continued, “The enemy wants to get to the hills. Let them do that. If they do so, we can attack them from the rear. We can anticipate that if they infiltrate the liberated zones, they will burn our villages. They will rape and torture our wives and daughters. They will kill our people.”

“Sadly, we have no other option. In order to avoid impending destruction, we will have to accept some losses. We would have to leave our people at the mercy of the enemy,” Kader concluded.

We agreed with Kader. It was time to make a strategic decision. We would have to bite the bullet. We decided to withdraw our outposts in the free zone.

Instructions were sent out to close down the outposts controlled by commanders Golam, Laltu, Idris, and Monirul at Aschim, Lahore Baid, and Rangamati.

After some elaborate discussion, we decided that Kader would go to India to establish contact with relevant authorities. He also still needed to receive medical treatment.

The Mukti Bahini headquarters would be closed down. The freedom fighters would leave the permanent outposts and disperse into small groups in various hideouts throughout the greaterTangail District

Our meeting adjourned at midnight. I returned to the headquarters with a heavy heart. I tossed and turned through night. In just seven days, the war had taken a turn for the worse.

The government of Independent Bangladesh was located in Calcutta. There were a few small pockets along the Indian border under the control of the Mukti Bahini. However, since May, the free zones of Tangail represented a truly independent Bangladesh. Tangail was only forty miles from Dhaka and about a hundred and

fifty miles from the Indian border. It was an area covering forty to sixty miles and entirely under freedom fighter control.

The enemy was fully aware of the free zones of Tangail. There were frequent battles at every outpost bringing us face-to-face with the enemy. The people of Tangail moved without any fear. The flag of Bangladesh proudly fluttered above market places.

Alas, after tomorrow, this long-standing free zone of Independent Bangladesh would fall to the occupation forces. This thought was intensely painful to me.

Just one week earlier, Bhuapur had fallen. Soon after, the Pakistani Army adopted a “kill on sight” policy. They set many of the shops and commercial establishments at Bhuapur Bazaar on fire. The army cruelly tortured many civilians.

We were shocked by this news. The possibility of such unspeakable torture being inflicted upon the people living in the hilly areas only made us more worried.

Shaheed tried to console us. He recounted historic tales of war and said, “Sometimes a retreat is your best strategy. Sometimes we must accept defeat in a battle in order to win the war.”

The next morning, Kader asked to see Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury and me in his quarters.

When we reached Shurirchala, we found that Kasem of Rosulpur was with Kader. It was this morning that Kader introduced us to his family for the first time.

As the war broke out, Kader’s parents and his younger brothers and sisters were all brought to this farmhouse.

Kader looked much better than he did when we saw him last. His fever had finally ceased and his injuries had begun to heal. However, he was still in a worried state of mind.

He asked the three of us to sit by his bedside. Even in the heat of battle, I had never seen Kader with such a serious demeanor.

I was concerned for him. I anticipated his next word, as it was clear he was about to divulge something of great significance.

Just last night, we decided to withdraw from our position in the hilly areas. But, was there something more serious than this bothering him?

Had he changed his plan? Would he not leave the headquarters and proceed to India? And if he had now changed his mind regarding last night’s decision, why would he invite only the three of us here? Why was Shaheed not invited?

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It didn’t take long for me to get my answer.

Kader looked up and told us that he had been pondering his decisions all night long.

He said, “I need to give you three some important responsibilities. But today, I speak not as your commander, but rather, as your brother.”

We were all taken aback by these words.

Abul Kasem was a simple and innocent villager. He immediately assumed that Kader’s injury had led him into depression.

Abul Kasem assured Kader that the three of us were all fit and willing to carry out his orders.

Shahjada and I continued in the same reassuring tone.

But Kader replied, “No. This has nothing to do with this depression of mine. This is something much more personal. This is why I hesitate so.”

Shahjada responded to Kader, “Sir, with all due respect, the lines between personal affairs and the duties of battle have long since been blurred.”

I added, “We all fight because we share a personal sense of duty. Each battle we have fought, each mission we have carried out has been in the name of liberation, but has also affected us personally,

There is nothing that you can ask of us that is too personal in nature.”

Kader’s reaction was astounding. For the first time, we found Kader in tears.

As he wiped the freshly cut rivers from his cheek, he regained his composure and said, “I have decided that I will proceed to India within the week. However, my mother would not be able to withstand such a long and difficult journey.”

Moreover, Kader told us that he could not justify removing his entire family from Bangladesh. He decided to divide his family members in two groups. God forbid that something happened to one group, there would still be hope for the other.

Kader would take with him his father and Babul and Belal, his two younger brothers.

He decided that his three sisters and two of his younger brothers would stay behind with his mother.

Kader looked at our eyes and earnestly vowed, “I place the lives of my mother and younger siblings in your hands. Please escort them to my aunt’s house in Dhaka.”

While under different circumstances this would be a simple chaperon mission, but we all knew that we would be taking Kader’s family across enemy lines and into Dhaka, the heart of occupation forces.

Shahjada noted that his relatives had a house in Narayanganj, just on the outskirts of Dhaka.

I added, “As a student of Dhaka University, I also had some friends in Dhaka.”

I assured him that we could take his family to the city and provide safe shelter there.

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Chapter 7

A Serious Setback

Escorting Kader’s Mother to Dhaka On August 19th, Kader’s mother, three sisters, and two brothers were placed in our hands. A heartbreaking scene unfolded as Kader’s family said their goodbyes.

The valiant freedom fighter, “Tiger” Siddiqui, the very mention of whose name struck fear in the hearts of Pakistani soldiers, was now weeping profusely as he embraced his mother and younger siblings. The last two days provided a rare window into an emotional side of Kader seldom seen on the battlefield.

Despite his stature and well-known heroism, Kader’s mother still saw him as her child. It was not easy to separate the family, but at the time of an ongoing war, this was a necessary decision.

As we were about to leave, Kader avidly said, “Take care of my family at any cost. In the name of Allah, I leave my dear ones at your disposal.”

We swore to protect Kader’s family with our lives.

After the family finally said their farewells, Shahjada, Kashem and I left Shurirchala for Boheratoli with Kader’s mother, his sisters Rahima, Shushu and Shahana, and his brothers Murad and Azad.

Rahima was a college student. Shushu and Shahana were in high school. Murad and Azad were seven or eight years old.

The last few days were fraught with heavy rains, which turned the yellowish clay-rich soil of the hills into a thick cement-like mud.

Kader’s mother had great difficulty treading through these muddy paths. But after a long and arduous journey, we finally arrived at the camp of Captain Fazlur Rahman in Boheratuli.

It was late afternoon when we arrived. Captain Fazlu took good

care of us. However, he had no clue as to why we were there and to where we were to go next.

It occurred to me that I could not return to Dhaka in my current appearance. Over the last several months, my hair had grown long and my beard thick.

A haircut and shave were long overdue. If we were to cross enemy lines successfully, I would have to look more like a normal civilian and less like a freedom fighter.

It was a market day in Boheratuli, so I decided to try my luck in finding a barber at the bazaar. Fortunately, I found one.

The barber had no shop. He simply conducted his business in an open area in the corner of the market. He had two pieces of “furniture” – two red bricks – one brick for him to sit on and another for his customer. The barber immediately knew who I was. He favored me and took me immediately ahead of his other clients. I sat on the brick in front of him as he lathered my face with soapy foam.

With his blunt razor he began to shave my face. It was so painful! It felt as if he was plucking my bristles, one by one. The pain brought tears to my eyes. But still, I sat patiently. Little did I know – the worst was yet to come!

The barber washed my face with dirty water from a small bowl and then rubbed a transparent cube, some sort of antiseptic, on my face. The burning was excruciating. It was as if someone was pouring salt on an open wound!

In spite of this horrible experience, when I saw my reflection in the barber’s broken mirror, I was pleased to see the face of a gentleman

Back at the camp, I spoke to Kashem and Shahjada and finalized our plans. We decided that we would leave Boheratuli by boat in the middle of the night. From there, we would go to a bus station on the Tangail-Dhaka Highway to get to Dhaka.

As planned, Kader’s family and we boarded a boat. Captain Fazlu and other’s had inquired of the details of our plan. However, we were careful not to divulge our destination and compromise the safety of Kader’s family.

Our strategy was to get on an early bus towards Dhaka. In the early hours of August 20th, we arrived at a culvert between Dhalla and Shuvalla.

In the near distance we saw a bus headed towards us. Quickly we got off the boat and approached the bus.

We did what we could to appear as if we were simply members of a family traveling together.

We tried to contain our relief when the bus driver opened the door and welcomed us in. The bus driver hit the gas and we were off.

As we crossed Mirjapur, I noticed the curious glare of the bus driver in his rearview mirror. He gave me a wink and a smile. He asked me to sit next to him. After a few moments, when the coast was clear he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t say anything at the military checkpoint ahead. I know exactly who you are. Just let your auntie know that there is nothing to be worried about. We will take you to Dhaka without any trouble. Don’t bother getting off at the bus stop either. Just give me directions in Dhaka and I’ll take you directly to where you want to go.”

I had mixed feelings about the bus driver’s comments. I was disappointed that we lost our cover; however, it was also reassuring to know that the bus driver was eager to help us out.

We were apprehensive as we approached the first checkpoint just before Kaliyakaur. Fortunately, the military guards and the Razakars did not interrogate any of the passengers. With just a cursory glance, they let us go

After a long night’s duty, it’s more than likely that the soldiers were still groggy in these early morning hours.

I left the driver’s side and returned to my seat in the back beside Dr. Chowdhury

I waited for an opportune moment to tell auntie that the bus driver and the conductor knew what we were up to. Before I could finish my sentence, I could see the look of fear paralyze her face. In a murmuring voice she recited a Qur’anic phrase and asked for Allah’s protection.

I quickly assured her that the driver and the conductor were both on our side and have promised to take us to our destination. With her prayers answered, the life returned to her face and she humbly thanked God.

We arrived at another checkpoint near the Kodda Bridge. However, the reception here was not quite the same.

At gunpoint, military guards ordered the passengers to get off the bus. We all obliged. However, the driver asked Kader’s family to stay on the bus. The military guards angrily inquired as to why the woman and four children were not getting off.

The driver shrewdly replied, “This is the family of the malik, the

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owner of this bus. I can’t allow them to get down or else I risk losing my job.”

In the Pakistani language of Urdu, the word malik has an authoritarian connotation. It literally means owner or boss. It is also one of the one hundred names of Allah. After hearing this word, the soldiers were unwilling to push the matter any further.

They boarded the bus and searched every corner. Finding nothing, the soldiers ordered the passengers back onto the bus, one by one, checking each traveler’s identification. With fake IDs in hand, the three of us boarded the bus and easily fooled the unsuspecting soldiers. Satisfied, the soldiers asked the driver to move on.

There were more checkpoints at Chowrasta, Tongi and Kurmitola. But only at Kurmitola, was the security as thorough as it was at Kodda. The rouge worked here as well. The bus driver was able to protect Kader’s family under the guise of his boss’s wife and kids.

When the bus arrived at the final destination at Gulistan, the other passengers got off.

The driver continued towards Narayanganj Road. Once we got near Tikatoli, we got off the bus.

When I offered to pay the fare, the bus driver and the conductor refused to accept my money. They said, “We know what you and your commander, Kader, are doing for our motherland. May Allah be with you.”

Later, we came to know that the name of the driver was Najar Ali and the conductor was Shushil Rajbangshi.

From Tikatoli, we took a rickshaw to Sarat Gupta Road where one of Kader’s aunts lived. But, there was not enough room for all of us.

After a few days, we went to Narayangonj to stay at the house of Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury’s in-laws. The house was located in town on the bank of a river.

Here, there was enough space for all of us. I liked the house very much. It was away from the main road and in a quiet neighborhood – the ideal place for a hideout.

A special feature of the house was the guest room, which stretched out of the main building and hovered over the water on stilts. This was my room.

Over the course of the last few months, I found myself sleeping in many different places. Some not so comfortable, like the jungle

floor, in barns with beds of hay, and of course, my least favorite, the bamboo cot in the VIP tent at the Mukti Bahini camp in Tura, India.

But tonight’s accommodations were special. It was as if I was spending the night sleeping cozily in a luxury resort bungalow on my own private island. And all the while I was still in the industrial city of Narayanganj.

Unfortunately, Kashem was not as comfortable as I was. He was a villager from a small hilly area and wasn’t fond of the city environment. He was homesick. It was time for him to go back to the open air of his rural village He apologized and bade us goodbye.

Dr. Laila Chowdhury was the wife of Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury. Both were students of Mymensingh Medical College. They had courted during their student days before getting married. Dr. Laila Chowdhury and her parents were very hospitable and took good care of us.

Our Aunt Kader’s mother and I became very close right from the beginning. Usually people call me Nuran Nabi or affectionately, just “Nabi.”

But at our first introduction, Kader’s mother immediately began calling me by my new nickname, “Nuru.” “Nuru, I have some food for you,” she would say.

There was always a deep affection in her tone. She reminded me of my mother whom I had lost only a few months ago

While engaged in battle, my mother’s memory passed through my thoughts periodically. But when Kader’s mother would call me “Nuru,” I felt deeply touched.

It only took a few days, but very soon, Kader’s mother became dear to me. She became my aunt.

To those who have never had the pleasure of meeting her, it is very difficult for me to convey the nature and extent of her affection. Her love as a mother extended far beyond her own children and touched the hearts of all who were near. To put it simply, she was a magnificent mother.

Operation Thunder It was planned earlier that Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury and I would go to India after we arranged a safe hideout for Kader’s family. But our

plan took a sudden twist

I told Shahjada that since we were in Dhaka, we should try to execute a guerrilla operation.

Shahjada inquired about my plan. I told him that it was simple:

“In an attempt to create a sense of normalcy during war time, the military has forced the doors of Dhaka University open and strongarmed some students and teachers into returning to class. Many of these students and teachers weren’t Razakars.”

I explained to Dr. Chowdhury that I knew Dhaka University’s science complex, Curzon Hall, very well.

By simply distributing pro-liberation fliers through the campus, we could bring the spirit of the liberation war back to the campus and incite a panic amongst the anti-liberation forces.

I went to New Market and bought some stationery to get started on some posters and fliers. The only question was how to get them printed.

Shahjada had an idea. When he was a student of Mymensingh Medical College, he befriended an engineer named Salam.

Salam had been working as a contractor to install the elevator at the Mymensingh Medical College. But now he was back living in Dhaka and Shahjada knew his address. There was a good chance that Salam might be able to help us get our posters and fliers printed.

We went to Salam’s home. When Salam opened the door it was clear that he was excited to see Shahjada.

During our conversation we probed Salam to uncover his stance on the liberation war. Once we had confirmation, we shared our plan with him.

Without giving it a second thought, Salam happily agreed to what we proposed and asked us to return at his place the next day.

Shahjada and I were relieved to see that our plan was beginning to come together.

The next evening, we arrived at Salam’s place a little ahead of schedule. To our surprise, Salam had a new proposal for which we were not ready.

Salam told us that he was currently installing a lift in the office of the Central Meteorological Department in Mirpur.

There were several Pakistani Army offices and officer’s residences located in the surrounding area. Salam added that a command centre of the Pakistan Army was also nearby.

Nobody without a pass issued by the army could enter the zone.

Fortunately for us, Salam not only possessed such a pass, but he had special authorization to stay in the meteorological office over night.

I was excited. An opportunity like this could not be wasted.

I was eager to go to Salam’s office and survey the place. However, Salam told me that I needed to wait until he checked the matter with the building guards. He’d let us know the outcome by the next day.

Once again, we returned to Salam’s the next day. We waited at the door for quite some time. But, Salam never came to receive us.

Disappointed, we headed back. I had so many questions. Had something happened to him? Should we have really trusted him in the first place?

Despite my reservations, Shahjada assured me that Salam was a trustworthy person. He was a supporter of the liberation war.

The next night, we tried our luck again and returned to Salam’s place. He was happy to see us and said that we would be able go to his office the next morning.

He apologized for his absence the previous evening, and explained that he had to wait late into the evening to speak with the guards.

Salam had fooled the guards into believing that Shahjada and I were just relatives of his who were eager to see where he worked.

Salam looked at us with scrutinizing eyes. He said to me, “Nabi, you need to buy some new clothes. Your outfit might create some problems.”

I had a worn-out shirt on and a pair of ill-fitted trousers that I picked up in India. Unfortunately, this was all I had in my current wardrobe.

Shahjada was a little more fortunate. His fair skin, pointed nose, and long moustache helped him resemble a typical West Pakistani Punjabi.

Later that evening, I had to go shopping to find some more suitable clothing. In those days, it was something of a rarity to find clothing shops that sold ready-to-wear outfits.

I headed to Jinnah Avenue to try my luck. I went from shop to shop, but could not find clothes that fit. Finally, I found a pair of trousers at one shop and a nice dress shirt that fit at another store.

Dressed to impress, I looked down in the store mirror and realized that my shopping was still incomplete. I still had the same worn-out pair of sandals that I got in India. Luckily, I was able to get some new shoes from yet another store.

The next day, the three of us headed to the meteorological office.

As we entered the second capital area, the military guard stopped our auto-rickshaw. He examined Salam’s pass and allowed us to move on. However, we had to ditch the auto-rickshaw after a few blocks when we approached a sign that read, “Only Military Vehicles Allowed”.

We continued on foot towards the office. Salam had a briefcase with him. There was no mistaking where we were – the center of a military zone.

Military jeeps criss-crossed around us. Soldiers rushed from one office to another. The entire area was fortified with anti-aircraft cannons and machine guns. I was excited to see the enemy so upclose. However, I had to keep my cool and appear relaxed.

On our way to the office, there were several military checkpoints where we had to stop. Fortunately, between Salam’s military pass, Shahjada’s Punjabi-like appearance, and my new clothes and small stature we did not arise any suspicion.

The last checkpoint was at the meteorological office itself. Everybody there knew Salam very well. It didn’t hurt that he also spoke Urdu fluently. More importantly, I noticed that none of the guards checked the briefcase that was clenched in Salam’s fist.

We rode Salam’s elevator to the top floor of the high-rise building. The installation was almost complete. Salam told us that his work order would end in a few months. The top floor resembled the observation deck at the Empire State Building. You could see all of Dhaka city from this one vantage point.

As I took a look around, I finalized the plans in my mind. I could have never imagined a more perfect place to conduct a guerrilla operation from

I remembered Kader Siddiqui. If he were still in Tangail, I would have headed there by daybreak to take further steps to execute the operation. But he was in India for medical treatment. So instead I’d have to wait.

Since this area was now reclassified as a military zone, the routine activities of the meteorological office had been suspended. Only contractors, like Salam, were allowed to visit the site for construction and maintenance matters. This situation favored the implementation of our plan.

Once we got back to Salam’s home, I disclosed my plan to Salam and Shahjada.

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Back in July, I brought some explosives from India during my first mission. Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, the boat carrying the detonators broke from our fleet and vanished into Jamuna River, never to be seen again.

Without detonators, the explosives I had brought were useless. The fruits of my mission sat idle in our camp.

However, on my second mission to India, I was extra careful and carried the detonators in my own boat.

My plan was to assemble the explosives and detonators at Salam’s house in Dhaka.

We would then bring Salam back to our camp and train him in the detonation of explosives.

Every morning, as usual Salam would go to work. And every morning, Salam would take a small piece of explosive with him in his briefcase and store it inside the tower.

Salam was an engineer, so he eagerly agreed to carry out my plan. He volunteered to take a few days off from work to get the necessary training from the Mukti Bahini Camp.

The importance of this operation would have far-reaching consequences. The meteorological office was located inside the military zone. A new high command was now in operation there. So a blast, of any capacity, in the heart of their military operation would be certain to panic the enemy.

Moreover, this incident would find its place in the news bulletins of every agency in Bangladesh. Even the foreign media would have to report on such an incident, attaching even greater importance.

A Mukti Bahini operation inside the Pakistani military camp in Dhaka would be seen as a serious blow to the enemy. Salam and Shahjada enthusiastically supported the plan and promised to take any risk to implement the operation.

We decided to postpone our trip to India for the time being, We also suspended our plan to distribute posters and fliers around the Dhaka University campus. Instead, we chose to return to the liberated zone in Tangail and put forth efforts to implement operation thunder.”

A Wrong Turn My new clothes had already given me an extra bounce in my step. But with the recent developments of our new plan for the

meteorological office, my confidence had reached new bounds. I decided to get around and see more of Dhaka city before I returned to Tangail.

One day, I hired a rickshaw to see how the civilians of Dhaka led their lives, while we were engaged in a war of “do or die.”

Dhaka seemed different. There were fewer people around. The usual crowds in the shops of New Market, Baitul Mukarram, and Jinnah Avenue had thinned since the days before the war.

There was no way for me to tell what these people were thinking. There was no way I could know who was for and who was against the liberation war.

As I passed Curzon Hall campus, I could hear the familiar chatter of students. Instantly, without thinking, I asked the rickshawalla to head into campus.

I got off the rickshaw on the east corner of Curzon Hall, in front of the Biochemistry department, my home for last three years.

As usual, the teachers’ cars were parked in front of the building. I was both anxious and thrilled. I ran quickly up to the first floor. There I found Golam Hossain, the custodian of the animal house of the Biochemistry department. He embraced me and wanted to know where I had been and how things were going with me. He told me that all my classmates were now in the classroom upstairs.

From Golam Hossain, I came to know that the Pakistani military authority had issued a military decree to keep all educational institutions and all government and non-government offices open. Again, this was to show that everything was still normal in East Pakistan. With the exception to Solaiman, Amin, Bokul and I, all of my classmates had returned to the University.

They had completed the last part of their B.Sc Honors practical examination and were now enrolled in M.Sc classes.

No sooner had I finished my conversation with Golam Hossain had the period ended and the students rolled out of their classes. As my classmates hurried down the stairs, I found myself suddenly surrounded by my peers.

However, none of my classmates showed any interest in me. No one even thought to approach me.

I was invisible to all, but one student. He was a student of the M.Sc class, in the preliminary group. He quickly embraced me. This was strange

As a student of the honors class, I did not have much of a rapport

with the students of the preliminary class. While, this particular student was an activist, he was a member of the Islamic Student Association, a group opposed to the liberation of Bangladesh.

While my classmates were indifferent towards me, the students of the Islamic Students Association were quite enthusiastic to see me. The situation made me sick. Initially, I returned to campus on a whim. I came here without a thought. I didn’t consider what to tell people. I didn’t know how to explain why I was here,

Based on my presence of mind, I decided to explain why I was here.

The leader of the Islamic Students Association was from the district of Noakhali. He repeatedly asked me why I hadn’t returned to the University on time. He asked why I had missed the final examination. While other classmates were already on their way to their next class, his interrogation continued.

I had no alternative, but to lie to him.

I told him that the fighting had progressed into our area. The Mukti Bahini was in control of our area. However, the Pakistani Army had the area surrounded. Therefore, it was too dangerous to return to Dhaka. It was only in the last month that the Mukti Bahini had left our area. This was my first opportunity to return to the University

I did my best to keep my composure as I fabricated this farce.

Before I went further, I looked him in the eyes and asked, “How could I get back to school in the midst of all of this?”

Worried he had already heard about my whereabouts, or didn’t believe my story; I anticipated his reply with misgivings.

With a smile and an arm on my shoulder, he said, “It’s not a problem. I will take care of everything.

And right there and then, he drafted an application addressing the Vice-Chancellor conveying all that I had told him.

He dragged me to the office of my teacher, Professor Kamal Ahmed, Chair of the Department of Biochemistry. Before I even had an opportunity to say something, he had already announced me to Professor Ahmed’s secretary

Prior to the war, I had always known this Islamic student activist to be a low-key guy. However, his overzealous response to my story frightened me.

Clearly, he was showing off his power and influence because his party was collaborating with the Pakistani Army. His behavior would

have me to believe that he was the one who called the shots in the department, not Professor Ahmed.

The secretary went inside the professor’s office. When he returned, he announced that I was permitted to meet with the chair.

It wasn’t until this moment that the Islamic student activist handed over the application he wrote on my behalf.

As the chain of events had unfolded so quickly, I had no time to think. I quickly regurgitated the same fabricated account to my professor.

Professor Ahmed listened to me sympathetically. He told me to write an application to the Vice-Chancellor and if necessary he would talk to the Vice-Chancellor on my behalf.

Before the war broke out, I was the leader of the department student body, which put me on good terms with Prof. Ahmed.

Despite this, I responded to the professor’s suggestion by handing over the application drafted for me by the Islamic student activist.

I hadn’t even taken a moment to glance it over.

Prof. Ahmed took the paper from my hand and immediately got irritated.

He looked at me and asked furiously, “What is this? What have you written?”

“Get a new application and I will recommend that to the ViceChancellor,” the professor demanded.

As I left the professor’s office, I found the Islamic student activist still waiting at the door with his still troubling enthusiasm.

He immediately asked me how the meeting went.

Still a bit perplexed, I said to him, “Everything was alright, but Professor Ahmed wants me to rewrite the application. This time, 1 think I will do it myself.”

I thanked him for all of his help and reminded him that he was late for class. As I walked away, I added that I’d be back again in the morning and if needed, I would seek his help.

As soon as he was out of sight, I made a dash down the staircase and headed toward Fazlul Haq Hall. I figured I could find a rickshaw at the hall gate.

As I walked, I looked over the application. I quickly understood why Prof. Ahmed was so upset with the original application.

My application read like a legal document. Every paragraph began with the word, “That…”

It was hardly appropriate correspondence between a student and a teacher

I balled up the application and chucked it in the pond between Fazlul Haq Hall and Dhaka Hall.

As I came to the gate of Fazlul Haq Hall, I felt a sense of nostalgia come over me again. On the evening of March 25th, I stepped out of my dorm room just like I did any other day. Of course as history would have it, the war started later that evening. It would not be until today, five months later that I would have a chance to return to my room.

I left all my belongings inside. Naturally, I was curious to see my room, so I went inside the hall.

It was noon and so most of the students were still in class. From inside, the hall looked empty. I quickly walked to my room and found that it was locked from the outside.

The dormitory doors were so old and warped that I was able to steal a peak by pushing my weight against the door. Unfortunately, my belongings were not in sight. What I saw were the effects of someone else: a suitcase, a bed, books, and clothes.

Already, my room had a new occupant. I couldn’t help but feel a little sad.

Next door, I found my classmate Moqbul Hossain, a student of the M.Sc class. He was feeling a little under the weather and decided to stay in bed.

He had always been something of an introvert, always keeping to himself, while the rest of us were engaged in student activities. He seemed astonished to see me, but glad nonetheless.

Again, I told him the tale I that had concocted earlier on campus. I wasn’t sure if he believed me, given he was all too aware of my activities in the Students’ League and my participation in the liberation movement.

As I had him alone, I decided to find out about the war efforts in his home district of Rangpur in the northern part of Bangladesh.

Moqbul replied stoically, “There are no war activities in Rangpur as far as I am aware. I haven’t seen anything and haven’t heard otherwise from anyone else.”

I was quite disappointed to hear this. Just one month ago, I was in Mankachar, a river port in Rangpur where I was engaged in military activities. Rangpur, like any other district along the Indian border, was a hot spot for Mukti Bahini activity. I couldn’t help but

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feel pity for him.

I asked him again whether he had ever seen a freedom fighter before. But again, he said no.

I didn’t have the courage to tell him that a freedom fighter was sitting in front of him this whole time. I just told him another lie and promised to see him the next day in class.

What if? I was relieved as I took a rickshaw out of the hall gates. I was headed toward Narayanganj bus station, trying to recapitulate everything that happened in the last few hours. It was foolish and irresponsible of me to go to my class. Why did I go to Curzon Hall?

There was no reason for it. My emotions had overtaken my judgment. As reality set in, I began to shiver. Had I been discovered as a freedom fighter, the consequences I would have had to face would have been grave, to say the least.

Not to mention, the insult and neglect of my classmates had been eating away at me. Why didn’t they show any enthusiasm upon seeing me? Was it because I had left the university and they were now students of the M.Sc class?

In the previous six months, I was only preoccupied with the liberation war. I never considered the ramifications of victory or defeat. It was all war, nothing else. But my experience over the last few hours, transformed my mood from excitement and pride to a grim state of depression.

If the country did not become free, what would happen to me? All of my classmates were now M.Sc. students. Those who had done well in the examination had already been admitted in the thesis group. I had once also nurtured the idea of becoming a student of the thesis group. Many of my classmates would complete their thesis, go abroad, and would eventually earn PhDs. As for me, I would remain in limbo as a B.Sc Honors student.

If Bangladesh failed to gain its freedom, I would not be able to stay in the country and I certainly would not be able to return to my hometown.

I would be forced to leave the country as a traitor, a miscreant of India. I would have no home. Worse yet, what if I was wounded and the country remained a colony of Pakistan? I would be left to beg at the holy site of Ajmeer Sharif in India.

If the country did not gain its independence, if I became disabled, what would I do in India? If I were lucky, maybe I would have a chance as a teacher in a primary school and marry an otherwise undistinguished daughter of a wealthy Muslim farmer. At best, I would live a life of mediocrity.

I would not be the only one to suffer for my involvement in the war. As relatives to a traitor, my father, brothers and other family members would also suffer dire consequences for my decisions.

However, nothing hurt me more than the thought of my mother. She always prayed that her son would be a very successful person and would go abroad for higher studies. Even on her deathbed, her priority was ensuring that news of her illness did not get to me. She wanted nothing to interfere with my studies.

Failing my country would mean failing my mother.

My thoughts came to a halt as the rickshaw pulled up to Narayanganj bus-stand. Once on the bus, I tried to regain my courage and composure. I reminded myself that I was a freedom fighter. I joined the war at the call of Bangabandhu to make my country free.

Thousands of freedom fighters, like me, risked their lives in this war. Millions of people have helped us in this struggle. This was a duty that went beyond personal glory. This was my responsibility and I was fortunate to have it. I was fortunate to be a freedom fighter.

Remembering all the people who were a part of the liberation war, I was able to escape the horrors of last few hours when I came back to Narayanganj amongst Shahjada, aunt and others.

Out of shame I could not tell anyone of my stupidity.

The next day, Shahjada and I decided to return to Shakhipur, our headquarters in the liberated zone. However, “Operation Thunder” was still on my mind.

September 4th After spending about two weeks in Dhaka and Narayanganj, on September 4th, Shahjada and I proceeded for Shakhipur via Tangail. We went to Karotia in Tangail by bus.

It was a market day at Karotia and the streets were bustling. The risk of being identified by someone was high. We quickly made our

way to the dock and hired a boat to Kauljani, Shahjada’s home.

Shahjada’s family members were very happy to see him back at home. From them, we came to know that Shaheed and some other freedom fighters were still at our headquarters in Shakhipur.

The next day, we went to Shakhipur by boat. However, once we arrived, we found that our headquarters had been relocated from Bhabanipur to Bagarchala.

Shaheed, Syed, Faruk and others were excited to see us. We informed them that Kader’s mother and other family members were safe at Shahjada’s in-laws’ house.

The Atrocities of the Pakistani Army Kader Siddiqui left for India on August 2oth. Before his departure, he instructed the commanders of all free zones to dismantle their permanent outposts and go into hiding.

Shaheed also gave similar instructions to his fellow fighters. After a couple of days, he headed towards India with some of his most trustworthy associates.

In the mean time, Pakistani occupation forces had surrounded the free zones in the hilly areas. By August 24th, they had already installed an outpost at Sagardighi. The Pakistan Army had recaptured almost all of our outposts. But despite this uncontested shift in control, the occupation forces were perplexed by the sudden disappearance of such a huge number of freedom fighters.

The Pakistani soldiers were apprehensive. They kept their eyes on the treetops. At any moment they expected us to jump out of the trees and ambush them. But with no sign of our whereabouts, and with the help of some deliberately misleading information from the locals, the jungle had become haunted with the ghosts of the Mukti Bahini.

The frightened Pakistani Army cautiously proceeded out of Sagardighi towards our former headquarters in the south.

However, along the way, they burned the dwellings in which we used to stay. They tortured and killed everyone they encountered. They slaughtered the livestock and left the corpses to rot in the humidity of the jungle. As for the few locals who were able to save themselves, they too found their homes burned to ashes. The stench of rotting flesh and ashes blanketed the hills.

For one whole week, the enemies tortured the people of the hilly

area around Sagardighi and Shakhipur. The Pakistani Army returned to Tangail with a false sense of victory.

Disorder In order to cross over to India, Shaheed and his group – Syed, Faruk, and Commanders Sabur and Idris arrived at a village bordering India. They needed to rest as they had been walking for three consecutive days.

However, unbeknownst to them, the house in which they took shelter belonged to a person who was a member of the Peace Committee, a pro-Pakistani group.

This person informed the Pakistan Army of their whereabouts.

Immediately, the Pakistani Army attacked Shaheed and his group. Commanders Sabur and Idris were able to put up enough of a resistance to allow the group to escape and return to Sakhipur. This episode was kept a secret.

With the absence of Kader, the commanders had lost communication between themselves. The command structure amongst the freedom fighters began to disintegrate. Discipline was at an all time low. It was alleged that some freedom fighters were becoming involved in illegal activities. The reputation of the Mukti Bahini was at risk.

Shaheed’s Lie September 7th, Shaheed convened over an emergency meeting of the commanders and headquarters’ staff to discuss the prevailing situation and our next move. Commanders Sarwar, Laltu, Nabi Newaj, R.O. Hamidul Haq, Khorshed Alam, Shahjada, Nuru, Faruk and I were all present.

Shaheed expressed his deep concern about the lack of discipline amongst the freedom fighters in the absence of our commander, Kader Siddiqui.

He discussed the need to restore the chain of command and reestablish discipline and coordination among the freedom fighters. However, Shaheed knew that only Kader would be able to restore order amongst the freedom fighters. Shaheed had no choice, but to drop Kader’s name.

Shaheed concealed the truth and said that he had met with

Kader in India and had returned to Tangail with Kader’s instructions.

He further reported that Kader would come back to Tangail on September 20th. However, until Kader’s return, Shaheed’s decisions should be treated as Kader’s order. We all agreed to go along with Shaheed’s plan.

The commanders present at the meeting pledged their allegiance to Shaheed. It was also decided that a cyclostyled bulletin on behalf of Kader would be distributed amongst the freedom fighters. The news of Kader’s return to Tangail on September 2oth restored discipline and confidence amongst the Mukti Bahini.

This historic, yet, risky decision by Shaheed was a very important episode for the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Our New HQ Our new headquarters was established at the house of a woodcutter in Bagarchala. The house was built on stilts. This was an essential security measure to protect the residents from tigers and wild bears.

The open area below the house doubled as a kitchen and grazing area for cows and goats. Our living quarters were upstairs accessible only via ladder.

Shaheed, Nuru, Faruk, Shahjada, and I slept in one room. We had a wireless set by which we could maintain contact with the operator in Tangail. We gathered information regarding the liberation war at different parts of the country. We also used the wireless to maintain communication with various informants throughout Tangail. In order to do this safely, we utilized a series of cipher codes.

A young man from one of the local tribes, named Burman, was our 24-hour bodyguard. In addition, the roads leading to our headquarters were fortified by a series of freedom fighter camps.

We all had a proclivity for tea. Unfortunately, tea was a rare commodity during these times.

Pakistani forces had ravaged the shops and tea stalls in the area during their most recent strike.

One morning, Burman woke us up. He came up with a mug and said “Sir, have your tea.”

The mug was filled with a light green hot water. Immediately I asked, “What kind of tea is this?” Before he would answer, Burman insisted that I had a sip.

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Intrigued at the thought of a hot cup of tea, I took his advice. What I found was the leafy and slightly sweet taste of a local fruit referred to as bel or wood apple.

Until local tea supplies were replenished, Burman’s bel tea would have to suffice.

Things were quiet for a few days. Several commanders regularly came to meet with us to discuss some of their problems. They inquired about Kader’s return. We did our best to provide satisfactory answers.

One of their immediate needs was medicine for the wounded Mukti Bahini. However, Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury didn’t have the necessary medicine in stock at the headquarters. Worse yet, the Pakistani Army’s recent attacks had totally disrupted our network of medical supplies.

A West Pakistani Freedom Fighter Shaheed and Shahjada gave me the responsibility to procure adequate medical supplies for the Mukti Bahini.

We had a particular pharmacy in Tangail town, which we had previously used to meet our medical needs. Unfortunately, now, the Pakistani Army and members of the Peace Committee kept a vigilant eye on that pharmacy. I had no choice, but to go to Dhaka.

My visit to Dhaka last month was quite hasty and risky. However this time, I would be traveling alone. I decided that it would be necessary to get the appropriate documentation should my mission be threatened. I would need a pharmacist’s identification card.

One of Shahjada’s relatives owned a pharmacy. He arranged a photo identification card for me, which stated that I worked in his store as a pharmacist. A photo studio in Tangail helped us with the rest.

My beard and moustache had grown, so after a quick shave and a change of clothes, I set out to Dhaka with the ID card tagged to my breast.

Once in Dhaka, I arrived at the house of a West Pakistani named Mumtaz Khan on Agamasi Lane.

Mumtaz was from a Pakistani tribe from the Northwest Frontier Province known as the Pathans. The tribe spanned from the Northwest Frontier Province of Pakistan to its border with Afghanistan.

I carried a letter that bore the name of Kader, which I handed to Mumtaz. He read the letter. Just before leaving the room, he assured me that he could help. I waited in the living room.

Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable sound of military boots.

I became alarmed. A few moments later, I found two West Pakistan military officers entering the living room.

I did not know what was happening. Was I being set up?

I began praying. I asked Allah to protect me and keep me from getting arrested. To die by a bullet was one thing, but being arrested meant an end far more torturous and painful.

I didn’t know what to tell these officers should they begin to interrogate me. My Urdu wasn’t fluent and speaking English would raise doubts regarding my credentials as a pharmacist, as most pharmacists were not fluent in English.

Just at that moment, Mumtaz Khan entered the room and introduced me to these two military officers. They were his relatives.

I was introduced as Mumtaz’s business client. He asked me to wait, while he took his relatives inside. I felt relieved as I wiped the sweat from my brow. I thanked God.

Mumtaz Khan was a businessman who traded tobacco leaves at Sakhipur. Kader arrested him early on in the liberation war as he was obviously from West Pakistan. However, we soon found that he was a supporter of our cause.

Many of the Pathan community knew firsthand what it felt like to be discriminated against; as the Pathan were oppressed by the Punjabi ruling clique of West Pakistan. Mumtaz and his people were sympathetic to the plight of Bangladesh.

Needless to say, when Mumtaz assured us of his help for our cause, he was released. For several months, he had been supplying medicine for the Mukti Bahini. As a West Pakistani, Mumtaz was able to travel with medical supplies to our old Headquarters without raising the suspicion of the Pakistani forces.

This is why I came to him.

I planned to return to Tangail later in the day. That afternoon, Mumtaz brought me the medical supplies. With the supplies in hand, I got on a bus for Tangail. The bus was stopped twice along the way, but I easily passed each checkpoint by showing my ID card. I planned to reach Kouljani by boat from Karotia before nightfall. But by the time I arrived in Karotia, the last boat was gone. I would have to spend the night in Tangail. This was an added risk for my mission.

I had to find a safe place to stay in Tangail. In those days, travelers from different parts of Tangail would stay in hotels. Many of these travelers came from rural areas in connection with on-going civil and criminal litigation in the district courts.

Staying in a hotel would put me at risk of being recognized by someone from my village area.

Suddenly, I remembered the postmaster at Hemnagar from six years ago. I had become very close to him and his family, while attending high school in Hemnagar. The post office and the postmaster’s residence were next door to my high school. I had become like an extended family member to them.

I recalled that he had recently been transferred to Tangail as the postmaster-general. However, I wasn’t sure if he was still at this post. Nonetheless, I had to take a chance and visit the post office.

The night watchman at the post office informed me that my friend was still the postmaster general. Luckily, the watchman was able to provide me with his home address.

Late in the evening, I stepped on the porch of the postmaster general. The postmaster answered the door as if he had just seen a ghost. He could not believe it. There had been no contact between us in more than six years.

His children had grown up so quickly that I could not recognize them. His two young girls had now blossomed into young women.

Trusting him, I told him the purpose of my visit. He reassured me of my safety in his home. Like many government officials, he was also a supporter of the liberation war.

Before we went to sleep, we reminisced of our old days in Hemnagar. The postmaster was an organizer of cultural activities in Hemnagar and a fixture on the badminton and volleyball courts. These were some of my favorite pastimes at Hemnagar.

The postmaster told me about the activities of the Pakistani Army in Tangail. Though he worked for the government, he was still afraid for the safety of his teenage daughters. The lustful bite of Pakistani soldiers was known throughout Tangail for preying on innocent young women. While many young women were able to leave Tangail for a safer climate, the postmaster’s duties made such an escape impossible.

Early the next morning, I reached the headquarters with the medical supplies.

Kader Siddiqui in India Kader Siddiqui left for India on August 2oth. His father Abdul Awal Siddiqui, Babul and Belal, his two younger brothers, and some trusted freedom fighters including Dulal and Khoka accompanied him. Before he left the headquarters, he asked the commanders to go underground, and if necessary, to cross over to India for a few days.

Hamidul Haq and a recruiting officer were entrusted to secure the arms and ammunition of the Mukti Bahini in the hilly areas. Amjad Master was ordered to arrange the medical treatment of the wounded freedom fighters and to ensure their safety.

Kader instructed Shaheed and his followers, including Professor Rafiq Azad, Professor Mahbub Sadik, Professor Shariful Islam, and Bulbul Khan Mahbub to go to their respective villages or to find a safe place to hide out.

Kader’s group walked for three days at a stretch. Their trek took them through perilous jungles and rainy nights. The absolute blackness of the jungle was interrupted by the sound of branches and vines crunched under heavy boots. The bats fled, the snakes slithered, and the howling foxes were silenced. Kader and his men continued their journey.

On August 23rd, Kader crossed the border and reached Dalu in India.

The wounds on his hands and legs had become swollen, and he had a temperature of 104 degree. But none of this seemed to slow Kader’s stride. His only objective was to get his family and his group safely across to India. He would not rest until his goal was accomplished.

Along the journey, Kader’s elderly father Awal Siddiqui also showed his vigor by walking at the same spirited pace as the young freedom fighters accompanying him.

During my two missions to India, I had painted a good picture of Kader to the Indian authorities. They had also corroborated my depiction of Kader by intercepting radio messages from the Pakistan Army, The Indians already knew about Kader’s injury and the objective of his visit to India. They were waiting for him.

As soon as Kader reached the Indian border outpost in Dalu, Brigadier Sanat Singh got the news.

During my visits to India, I had meetings with Brigadier Sanat Singh, Major General Gill, and Lieutenant General Aurora. I

expounded to them the heroic activities and war strategies of Kader Siddiqui.

So, as soon as Brigadier Singh saw Kader Siddiqui, he embraced him. The twenty-two freedom fighters that accompanied Kader were accommodated at Rawshan Ara camp near Tura.

Kader was given medical treatment immediately. In a couple of days, the wounds on his hands and legs showed signs of recovery. In the meantime, more freedom fighters had crossed over to India from Tangail. Another camp was constructed alongside Rawshan Ara camp for their accommodation.

While in India, Kader met several Indian military leaders including Lieutenant General Aurora, Major General Gill, Brigadier Klair and Brigadier Sanat Singh. He also met Lieutenant Colonel Ziaur Rahman and Major Taher of the Mukti Bahini. Among the members of the Bangladesh Parliament whom he met with were Latif Siddiqui, Humayun Khalid, and Fazlur Rahman Khan Faruk.

Kader discussed the liberation war efforts in Tangail as well as his future war strategies.

Additional training arrangements for the Tangail Mukti Bahini were made inside the camp.

The freedom fighters of Tangail were given an opportunity to meet a large number of freedom fighters that came from different parts of Bangladesh. This boosted their morale further.

Kader’s Return to Tangail Immediately after his arrival in India, Kader Siddiqui had told the Indian authorities that he would return to Tangail as soon as his wounds had healed.

Accordingly, along with his team of trusted freedom fighters, Kader Siddiqui left India on September 20th. He instructed the other commanders to go back to Tangail with their teams through different border outposts.

Kader’s team safely entered Jamalpur district. They traveled by boat via the Jamuna River near Bahadurabad. On the way, he encountered only one skirmish with the enemy.

It took them a week to reach Shashuachar on the bank of the Jamuna River via Jhawail of Gopalpur. For three days, incessant rainfall continued and his team was confined to a house in the Shashuachar Village. Unfortunately, the area surrounding

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Shashuachar was incredibly poverty-stricken. While a home elsewhere might have had the means to sustain such a large party, such a daunting task was outside of the capacity of such a poor village. The freedom fighters were left without food for three days. They were hungry and tired.

Bahauddin, one of my classmates at the university, was the commander of the volunteer group of that area. On the fourth day, the rain finally stopped. Bahauddin had finally managed to get some food for the freedom fighters.

By then, the other commanders had also entered Tangail following Kader’s instructions. Kader re-organized the groups and asked them to launch an attack against the fortified enemy posts at Gopalpur and Bhuapur.

The Martyrs of Bhuapur On October 8th, a team of freedom fighters led by Commander Habib attacked the enemy camp at Bhuapur Bazaar. Commander Arzu, Angur and Rafiq and their respective teams joined Habib’s team. Habib had become famous for destroying enemy ships.

Two of Habib’s bravest soldiers were Quddus and Salam, both from the Bhuapur area. Quddus was a student leader of Bhuapur College and a local of the nearby Chabbisha village. Abdus Salam was also a local from nearby Borolokerpara village.

Quddus and Salem had sworn to themselves that they would give their lives to make Bhuapur free of the enemy.

With some help from India, the Mukti Bahini was now equipped with modern weapons. The freedom fighters were now armed with light machine guns, mortars, Sten guns, grenades and rocket launchers.

At midnight, Habib’s team swiftly moved in on the enemy posts at Bhuapur Bazaar.

As Kudus and Salam were locals, they were very familiar with the network of alleys, which made up Bhuapur Bazaar. Kudus and Salam guided the team to strategic vantage points throughout the bazaar. Once in position, Habib initiated the attack by firing mortars. The freedom fighter’s guns roared through the marketplace, raining down upon their enemy targets.

The intensity and firepower of the Mukti Bahini attack had caught the Pakistani Army by surprise. As fortified as their position

was, the occupation forces were unable to defend themselves against such a fierce freedom fighter attack.

By dawn, the Mukti Bahini had defeated the enemy. Many Pakistani soldiers were killed. Those who survived surrendered along with the local Razakars.

As the early morning sun washed over the mortar-scorched earth of the bazaar, the Mukti Bahini celebrated their victory. Sadly, their celebration was short-lived.

While scavenging the battlefield for the dead, some of Habib’s men came across two dead bodies. The bodies were of Quddus and Salam.

Quddus and Salam had bravely stormed into the heart of the enemy’s position. Unfortunately, as bullets pierced through each of their chests, destiny had called them to fulfill their promise to their hometown. The sacrifice of their blood made Bhuapur free from then on.

Meanwhile, a team of freedom fighters under the leadership of Commander Hakim launched their attack simultaneously on Gopalpur police station. The teams of Commander Humayun, Commander Tara, and Commander Benu joined the attack.

They intensified their strike to capture the enemy camp at Gopalpur police headquarters. However, in spite of all their heroic attempts, they did not succeed. Later, freedom fighters assembled from all directions and created a siege around the enemy soldiers.

During the first week of October, Kader entered Tangail. We received news of his safe arrival immediately. We at the headquarters were overjoyed. Kader’s return to Tangail was a huge morale booster.

The news of recapturing Bhuapur came to us shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, this victory was tainted with the news of Quddus and Salam’s death. Shaheed and I were particularly close to Quddus, as he too was once a student leader like us.

A Setback at Nagarpur After the dust at Bhuapur had settled, Kader mobilized his forces south towards the enemy’s position at the Nagarpur police station.

Commanders Sabur and Humayun joined Kader’s strike on the police station. The plan was that Humayun’s company would attack the enemy position with a mortar launch led by Samad Gama. Their

objective was to shut down the road so that the enemy could not move. This would allow Kader’s squad to attack Nagarpur from the other side.

Unfortunately, Humayun’s team failed to cut off the road and the enemy attacked Kader’s squad from the rear. With an enemy fortified position in the front and enemy forces from behind, Kader’s team was sandwiched. Under direct fire, they had no choice but to save their lives by jumping into a canal.

Sabur lead the retreat. He made it safely across the water hyacinth-covered canal finding a shallow path. However, Kader’s path across the canal was not as smooth. The water level of the canal where he crossed was quite deep. Needing one hand to clear the water hyacinth, Kader struggled to swim with his favorite LMG. He was drowning

This LMG had been with Kader since the beginning of the war. It was his lucky charm. He did not want to lose it. However, the weight of the LMG was pulling him down into the water.

Commander Sabur saw the dilemma of his commander and shouted, “Sir, leave the LMG. Swim to the bank”.

Kader had no choice, but to drop his gun.

The Mukti Bahini repositioned and returned fire at the enemy. One hundred yards apart, they were face to face with enemy.

However, the Pakistani Army had good cover. They shot at Kader’s squad from higher grounds behind Nagarpur-Tangail Road.

On the other hand, the Mukti Bahini had no cover. They were fighting an uphill battle from an open space. Moreover, as Kader and Sabur’s teams had been detached from the main squad, the enemy had heavily outnumbered them. It was only a matter of time before Kader and his men were killed.

Suddenly, Commander Sabur, risking his life, took position with absolutely no cover in the middle of an open space and began firing. He continued his barrage for two minutes.

Meanwhile, Kader and his men quickly ran and took cover. They retaliated from a new position behind a nearby house. The Pakistani Army soldiers were forced to retreat to their camp at Nagarpur police station.

Sabur then dived deep into the water, rescued Kader’s LMG and returned it to his commander. Had Commander Sabur not risked his life, Kader and his squad would have been gunned down. The history of the Tangail Mukti Bahini would not have been the same.

Commander Sabur had no prior military training. Prior to the war, he was a young construction worker. However, he rose to the occasion. He was a ferocious fighter with a rare combination of wit and courage. He had great agility. During the nine-month war, he displayed his heroism repeatedly.

Kader’s Return to Headquarters At the headquarters we were all eagerly awaiting news of Kader’s arrival. Finally, we had received a message that Kader would arrive on October 15th.

Captain Fazlur Rahman was assigned to escort Kader to the headquarters. We arranged a mass reception for Kader by organizing a public meeting at Sakhipur. Shaheed took on the responsibility of organizing the event.

While in Kedarpur, Kader had inquired of me. As he had not heard from me since I had left to escort his family to Dhaka, Kader was eager to know of their whereabouts.

Several of us left the headquarters for the ferry station at Sangrampur where we waited to receive Kader.

As his team approached in a convoy of five boats, a crowd had gathered at the dock chanting patriotic slogans: “Joy Bangla, Long live Kader Siddiqui!”

I could see Kader standing at the front of his boat, carefully scanning the crowd. He looked so intently, as if to drown out the cheers of the crowd.

Suddenly, his eyes gleamed brightly and he began to wave. The boat had merely kissed the shore before Kader jumped out and began shouting, “Nuran Nabi! Where is my mother? Where are my brothers and sisters? Are they safe?”

I pushed through the crowd, making my way to greet Kader. I responded, “Sir, your mother and siblings are all safe in Dhaka.”

Kader immediately embraced me. From the look on his face it was clear that two months of worry and concern were finally over. Kader was at ease.

Kader walked down to Sakhipur. Hundreds of freedom fighters and local people followed him.

Shaheed, Shahjada, and Basit received Kader at the public meeting. There were thousands of people in attendance making it the largest public meeting in the liberated zone ever.

The return of Kader Siddiqui created a festive atmosphere. In his public address, Kader expressed his sympathies for those who had been victimized by the occupation forces during his absence. He also commended Shaheed and other leaders for the maintaining discipline within the Mukti Bahini in his absence. Above all, he swore to the people that the enemy would be driven away and the country would soon become free.

Kader met with us in the evening. We briefed him on everything that had happened in the last two months. However, as we reminisced, a secret was revealed.

For the first time, Kader disclosed to the other commanders that Shaheed did not actually meet with him in India. In fact, Shaheed never even made it to India.

Shaheed’s story was fabricated in order to restore discipline within the Mukti Bahini. Everybody was surprised except for the few of us who knew the secret.

This was just one instance of quick wit amongst millions during the liberation war. If not for Shaheed’s guile, the reputation of the Tangail Mukti Bahini would be different.

The next morning, Kader met the commanders again to redistribute their responsibilities. The Mukti Bahini outposts were again installed at different locations. A new plan of attack was chalked out for the eastern zone.

Martyrs Momen, Hanif, Rocket and Amir Commanders Fazlu and Mustafa lead an attack on the enemy camp at Balla. A fierce fight continued for two grueling days.

There were four young freedom fighters in particular who fought courageously during this battle. Their names were Momen, Hanif, Rocket, and Amir. They were teenagers, but they fought like grown men.

Sadly, these four heroes fell victim to the treacherous actions of a Razakar. The Razakar had revealed their position to the enemy.

Momen, Hanif, Rocket, and Amir were gunned down by enemy machine guns. Another six freedom fighters suffered injuries.

The enemy had also sustained heavy losses. Twenty enemy soldiers were killed. Though Fazlu and Mustafa’s teams were unable to occupy the enemy camp, they were able to keep the Pakistani Army under siege.

Meanwhile, Kader left the headquarters. Just as he did before sustaining his injuries, Kader began his usual lightening tours. His squad was always on the move. They traveled ten to fifteen miles every day on foot and by boat from camp to camp.

Kader visited a number of camps in the hilly areas and then went to the western zone near the Jamuna River.

He called a meeting of the commanders of the western zone. Kader had reorganized their troops and drafted a new war strategy for the region.

The Fate of Operation Thunder I briefed Kader on Operation Thunder. He approved this operation with enthusiasm. He instructed us to bring Salam to the free zone in order to train him in the handling of explosives.

Salam came to the free zone and was trained for a couple of weeks and then went back to Dhaka with explosives.

When I first met Salam, he carried a briefcase. Our plan was to have Salam smuggle a small amount of explosives in his briefcase everyday and store them at the meteorological office. Once he had gathered enough explosive material, he would put his training to use.

Unfortunately, in apprehension of a possible war with India, the Pakistani military authority revoked all civilian passes to the area before Salam could smuggle enough explosives.

Suddenly, Salam’s entry into the office was prohibited, and thus, Operation Thunder was silenced. Regardless, the heroism and efforts that Salam displayed are not to be forgotten.

Chapter 8

The Signal for Victory

My Third Mission to India I spent the month of October at the Mukti Bahini headquarters. On October 24th, I received a message from Kader that I would have to go to India to discuss important matters with the government of Bangladesh as well as with the Indian Army.

This would be my third visit to India. This time Shaheed, Shahjada, Nuru, and Faruk would accompany me.

On October 25th, we left Sakhipur. We crossed about forty-five miles on foot and by boat. We reached Arjuna on the western side of the Jamuna River on October 27th.

Kader was waiting for us inside a worn out cottage. We had a meeting to discuss our responsibilities in India. Kader decided that this time, Shaheed would lead our team. Shaheed would meet the leaders of the government of Bangladesh in Calcutta in order to exchange ideas regarding the state of the liberation war.

Before the war broke out, Shaheed was the general secretary of Salimullah Hall Students’ Union at Dhaka University, and a member of the central committee of the Students’ League. This experience made him personally known to some of the leaders of the Bangladesh Government.

Nuru and Faruk were responsible for visiting the refugee and training camps of the freedom fighters along the Indian border. Their job was to publicize the successes of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

As before, I was entrusted with the responsibility of meeting with the military authorities of both of Bangladesh and India, in order to discuss our future war strategies in detail.

In the afternoon of October 27th, we left for India by boat. On October 30th, we arrived at Mankachar on the Assam border. My previous trips to and from Mankachar were filled with danger and peril. However, this time we were better organized and equipped with a larger network of volunteers, making our journey efficient and smooth.

The officials of the Bangladesh Army and Indian border security forces received us in Mankachar. However, we had no time to spare. There was much to do in a very short amount of time. We immediately began working on our responsibilities.

Nuru and Faruk stayed behind at the camps on the border. The Indian Army escorted Shaheed, Shahjada, and me to the training camps of the freedom fighters near Tura, the capital of Meghalaya.

After a full day of traveling by jeep, we reached the Indian Army camp near Tura. Major Mukherjee and Captain Bose received us. I introduced Shaheed and Shahjada to them. Just as my previous visits to India, arrangements were made for me to stay at this camp.

The next day, Shaheed and Shahjada flew to Calcutta.

General Aurora On the morning of November 3rd, I went to see Brigadier Sant Singh at his office. This was our third meeting.

Through my previous two meetings with Brigadier Singh, we had established a strong personal bond.

Once again, he greeted me with the same warm spirit that I had come to know.

I handed over a letter from Kader and discussed the activities of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. We also reviewed the movement of the enemy forces.

At the end of the meeting, Brigadier Singh told me that the following day, I was to meet Major-General Gill, G. O. C. of the 101 Communication Zone of the Indian Army.

During my last visit, there were approximately a thousand freedom fighters receiving training at the Indian Army camp. Hundreds of Indian Army personnel were also present in the camp.

However this time, the number of both Mukti Bahini and Indian Army soldiers were much less. The camp seemed quite empty to me. This would be good news for the Liberation War. The freedom fighters I had met previously had since been trained and deployed

throughout Bangladesh to fight for our cause.

The next day, Brigadier Singh picked me up from the camp. He drove himself, while his driver sat in the rear. I sat beside the brigadier.

We arrived at the headquarters of the Communication Corps of the Indian Army, which was located just outside Tura. MajorGeneral Gill was waiting for us in his office.

I had barely saluted him before he stood up from his chair. He looked at Brigadier Singh and asked, “Is this the same Nuran Nabi?”

His smile peeked through his mustache as he came towards me. He quickly lifted me up in his arms, as a father would welcome his child home from school.

This was also my third meeting with General Gill. In my two previous meetings, my hair was long and I had a thick beard. I had worn a lungi and a shirt with sandals on my feet.

This time I was a clean-shaven Mukti Bahini with trimmed hair, wearing the trousers and dress shirt that I had bought in Dhaka.

General Gill asked me to take a seat.

After an exchange of greetings, General Gill said, “From your new look and attire, I can tell that the liberation war in Tangail must be going in your favor.”

I nodded my head in affirmation and then handed him a letter and a cassette tape with a recorded message from Kader.

General Gill smiled again and said, “Yes, there is no doubt about it. There must have been some positive developments.”

General Gill recalled our last meeting in August and how I had delivered Kader’s letter to Brigadier Singh. Last time, I had no pockets in which to hide the letter. So I rolled my sleeves, hiding the letter within the creases.

Smiling, I said, “You are right, General. We are much stronger now than we were before. Since our last meeting, we have liberated additional areas of Bangladesh.”

I then handed Kader’s letter to the general. However, upon seeing his perplexed face, I realized that the letter was written in Bangla. I took the letter back and read it aloud, translating Kader’s Bengali into English.

Fortunately, Kader’s speech was recorded in Hindi. In his letter and recorded message, Kader had conveyed his sincere thanks and greetings to the Indian Army for their help and co-operation.

In regards to the Mukti Bahini’s future plans he added, “Nuran

Nabi’s word would be as good as mine.”

As per Kader’s instructions, I discussed our progress, challenges, and future plans for the war. I answered the General’s queries regarding the enemy’s movement.

As the General had observed, we were more organized and disciplined than before.

At Kader’s request, I presented General Gill with two important questions. First, I asked if he thought that the Bangladesh Liberation war would last long.

I then added, “If so, we are apprehensive that the enemy might launch a final strike to annihilate the sixteen-thousand freedom fighters that were now only forty miles from the Pakistani military headquarters in Dhaka. In this scenario, what kind of assistance could we expect from the Indian Army?”

At the end of our discussion, General Gill told me that he could not say anything at the moment, but he would meet me again after a few days. He then invited me to join him for lunch in the officers’ mess hall.

As we sat for lunch, General Gill and I discussed a broad range of topics. He was particularly interested in knowing Tangail’s landscape: its trees, its plants, its rivers, and the terrain around the Modhupur-Tangail Highway.

He inquired further, asking if there were tall bamboo forests or large trees along the highways. He was particularly interested in knowing whether the areas along Modhupur-Tangail Highway were under our control and whether the people of these areas were supporters of the liberation war.

While answering General Gill’s questions, it never occurred to me to ask where his sudden curiosity had come from.

I stayed in the camp for another three days. I shared a room with Captain Bose, a Bengali captain of the Indian Army.

I was still anxious as I had yet to hear General Gill’s response to Kader’s two questions. These were very important issues, which concerned the life and death of sixteen thousand freedom fighters and fifty thousand volunteers stationed within enemy clutches. Our forces were more than one hundred miles away from the Indian border. If the Indian Army was going to help, we would need to know now.

Seeing that I was clearly stressed, Captain Bose did everything he could to cheer me up. As he knew that I loved the songs of

Rabindranath Tagore, he managed to find some cassettes of Tagore’s songs, which he played for me. He showed me around Tura. He also shared with me the story of his forefathers who migrated to India from Bangladesh. Captain Bose knew quite a lot about Bangladesh.

On November 7th, Brigadier Singh drove me to the office of General Gill for a meeting, General Gill received us, and without asking us to sit down in his office, took us to his car and drove us directly to the heliport.

A little taken back, I asked him “Are we going somewhere by helicopter? Where are we going?”

General Gill answered, “We aren’t going anywhere. We are just going to receive a VIP at the heliport.”

Then he added, “The meeting would take place at the heliport waiting room upon the arrival of our guest.”

He and Brigadier Singh escorted me to the waiting room located next to the helipad and asked me to wait there. They both returned to the helipad.

As I saw General Gill and Brigadier Singh standing at the helipad, I pondered the identity of our VIP.

Moments later, an army helicopter landed and a Sikh military officer came out of the helicopter. General Gill and Brigadier Singh saluted him. Ducking their heads, the three men rushed to the waiting room.

I stood up and saluted the VIP. I introduced myself and then made a gesture to shake hands with the Sikh officer.

Suddenly, I felt a momentary sense of awkwardness come over me. At five feet two inches, I found myself standing before three bearded, turban-wearing Sikh officers who were much taller than me. I tilted my head to the sky just to look the third officer in the eyes.

He said, “I am Lieutenant-General Jagjit Singh Aurora.”

He shook my hand. I had heard of General Aurora from Kader. He was the G. O. C. of the Eastern Command of the Indian Army. I never thought that I would meet him in such dramatic fashion.

I had to remind myself that I was not just a twenty-two year old university student. I was the representative of sixteen thousand freedom fighters. My word was as good as Kader’s, the leader of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. I regained my confidence and was ready to engage in discussions.

I had a feeling that General Gill had already apprised General

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Aurora of the agenda of our earlier discussion. So I went straight to the point and raised those two issues.

While, General Aurora did not address my two questions directly, he did give me a hint.

As our meeting ended, we decided that I would return to Tangail very soon. Once there, I would make contact with General Gill. Upon my signal, several officers of the Indian Army would come to the free zones of Tangail and stay with us. We would be responsible for their security.

Our next assignment would be to secure an area of ten to twelve miles near the Tangail-Madhupur Highway by the end of November or early December so that Indian paratroopers could be dropped. Lastly, we would have to collect as much secret information about the enemy in Dhaka as possible.

At the end of the meeting, General Aurora cautioned me about the importance and secrecy of our discussion. He warned me that under no circumstance, should I share this information with anyone other than Kader Siddiqui.

He further mentioned that I was the first Bangladeshi person privy to the details of this top-secret military operation. He reminded me repeatedly of the importance of this message and asked me to comply accordingly. I swore to him on my life.

General Gill understood General Aurora’s concern. However, to reassure General Aurora of my trustworthiness, General Gill mentioned that when Kader Siddiqui came over to India for medical treatment, he gave the responsibility of looking after his mother, brothers, and sisters to me. I was Kader’s most trusted comrade.

General Aurora blushed. He stated that he had not questioned my trustworthiness. Nonetheless, maintaining the secrecy of this mission was of paramount importance.

Our meeting lasted for about half an hour. As we shook hands, General Aurora mentioned, “This is the Liberation War of your motherland. I am certain you will be able to make good on your promise to your country. I hope to see you in liberated Tangail.”

Major General Gill and Brigadier Singh followed General Aurora to the waiting helicopter to see him off. As the helicopter took off, General Gill and Brigadier Singh walked towards the waiting room.

I stepped out of the waiting room and waited for General Gill and Brigadier Singh.

As he approached, the smiling General said, “I hope that you have

now gotten answers to your two questions.”

I smiled back. As I boarded Brigadier Singh’s jeep, General Gill asked that I see him once more before I return to Tangail.

A Signal for Victory In December, Indian paratroopers would land in Tangail. I asked myself repeatedly if this was a sign of our impending victory. As I returned to the camp, I felt my heart throb with joy and excitement.

Captain Bose received me at our tent and inquired into the subject matter of my discussion with General Gill. I did not mention General Aurora, but said that we discussed the state of the war in Tangail.

The next day, Brigadier Singh told me that I had to see his colleague Brigadier Klair. He was the commander of the 95th Mountain Brigade of the Indian Army. His office was situated on a hilly road about thirty miles from Tura.

This was my second meeting with Brigadier Klair. I met him once in August. As our conversation proceeded, I realized that he knew of the details of my discussion with General Aurora. He wanted to know the positions of the enemy camps at Bahadurabad ferry station, Jamalpur, and Modhupur. He inquired as to whether the Tangail Mukti Bahini could organize attacks in conjunction with the Indian Army at these locations, with the Indian Army coming from the north and the Mukti Bahini from the south.

I replied in affirmation. We then discussed some strategic matters.

While saying goodbye, this bearded and turban-headed Sikh officer smiled and said, “See you soon in Tangail!”

The next day I went to see General Ovan of the Indian Army. He was in charge of recruiting and training a special Mukti Bahini group known as the Mujib Bahini. The Mujib Bahini was an ideological force created to uphold the ideals of Bangabandhu Sheik Mujibur Rahman.

My visit with General Ovan was simply a courtesy call. The members of the Mujib Bahini were trained at a camp far from Tura. I met General Ovan near their camp. He was particularly interested in gauging the sincerity and loyalty of the Tangail Mukti Bahini to Bangabandhu Sheik Mujibur Rahman.

He also wanted to know how many freedom fighters in our group

were from leftist political parties.

With my discussion with General Ovan, I had finally completed my responsibilities as planned.

I had become restless to return to Tangail. However, Shaheed and Shahjada still had not returned from Calcutta.

On November 12th, I again went to see General Gill. He instructed me to communicate with the Indian Army through longdistance wireless sets. He added that Brigadier Singh and I should choose cipher codes to communicate and coordinate the landing of paratroopers in Tangail.

I told him that I would see him soon in Tangail and said goodbye.

Shaheed and Shahjada Meet with the Prime Minster Shaheed and Shahjada met the leaders of the Bangladesh Government in Calcutta and apprised them of the various activities of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Shaheed called on acting-president Syed Nazrul Islam, Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed, Captain Mansur Ali, Minister of Finance and Commerce, A. H. Quamruzzaman, Minister of Home and Rehabilitation, and Khondoker Moshtaque Ahmed, Minister of Foreign Affairs.

In his discussions, Shaheed covered different topics including the accomplishments and requirements of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Shaheed submitted the accounts of income and expenditures of the last few months of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. Minister Captain Mansur Ali expressed his satisfaction and complimented Shaheed for maintaining such neat accounts amidst such difficult circumstances.

The civil administration of the Tangail Mukti Bahini printed some cyclostyled copies of deeds and documents for the sale and purchase of properties with the monogram of the Government of Bangladesh.

Shaheed showed the documents to Moshtaque Ahmed, Minister in charge of Law and Parliamentary Affairs. Minister Ahmed conveyed his appreciation of our efforts as well.

Syed Nazrul Islam and Tajuddin Ahmed instructed Cabinet Secretary Toufiq Imam to issue an appointment letter to Shaheed as

the Civil Administrator of the free zone of Tangail.

Shaheed also met two of the great sons of Tangail. One of them was Abdul Mannan, Member of the National Assembly. He was in charge of Free Bangladesh Radio. Abdul Mannan used a pseudonym for his on-air commentary on the war to protect his relatives.

On November uth, an interview of Shaheed was aired on Free Bangladesh Radio. Mr. Mannan introduced Shaheed, but the interview was conducted by famous radio personality M. R. Akhtar Mukul.

The other important personality of Tangail was Khondoker Asaduzzaman. He was the Finance Secretary of the Bangladesh Government. Prior to the war, he was the Joint Secretary of the Finance Ministry of Pakistan.

During the non-cooperation movement, he defected to Bangladesh. On the 25th of March he was appointed the Principal Secretary of the Tangail Action Committee. Soon thereafter, he organized the first resistance against the Pakistani Military forces in Tangail. However, the Mukti Bahini was defeated and Tangail fell into enemy control. Pakistani forces retaliated by dynamiting Secretary Asaduzzaman’s home.

Secretary Asaduzzaman was a high-ranking bureaucrat who dedicated himself to creating an independent Bangladesh.

Despite his personal loss and relocation to Calcutta, his heart was with the Tangail Mukti Bahini. He helped us in any way he could and conveyed his sincerest greetings to the Tangail Mukti Bahini through Shaheed.

Shaheed also met Col. Osmani, the Chief of Staff for the Bangladesh Liberation Forces. They discussed the current affairs of the war in Tangail.

In the office of Col. Osmani, there was a map in which the positions of the Mukti Bahini and enemy forces had been identified with red and blue markers. Most of Tangail was now shown as a liberated land.

Shaheed also met other high profile Bengali intellectuals such as Ghaziul Huq, a leader of the language movement, Quamrul Hassan, a famous artist, Zahir Raihan, a famous film producer.

Shaheed told them of the activities of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. He also met Captain A. K. Khondoker, Col. M. A. Rob, Major Salahuddin and Lieutenant Sheikh Kamal. Kamal was the oldest son of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and was the ADC to Col. Osmani.

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Additionally, Shaheed met the representatives of foreign news agencies and shared with them his account of the war from an area inside the country only forty miles from Dhaka.

Among the reporters he spoke with were Lionel Limb of the BBC, Arnold Zeitlin of the Associated Press, Mr. Hersein of German Television and a representative of Radio Australia.

Shaheed also met four youth leaders of the Awami League, namely Sheikh Moni, Abdur Razzak, Serajul Alam Khan, and Tofael Ahmed. They were very close to Bangabandhu Sheik Mujibur Rahman prior to the war.

Meanwhile, Shahjada met with the Bangladesh Government Health Secretary, Dr. T. Hossain with whom he discussed the health situation and medical supplies of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Shaheed and Shahjada came back to Tura on November 17th. In the meantime, two of my companions, Nuru and Faruk were engaged in public relations activities with freedom fighters around Mankachar.

Conspiracies against the Tangail Mukti Bahini Initially, Shaheed’s meeting with the Bangladesh Government was not an easy task. He heard complaints against the Tangail Mukti Bahini including allegations of extortion. However, he knew exactly who was behind it.

Before the war broke out, there were some rivalries between two student leaders of Tangail, namely Shahjahan Siraj and Latif Siddiqui. This conflict spilled over to the liberation war. Latif was Kader Siddiqui’s older brother.

When Kader organized the Tangail Mukti Bahini, Baten, one of Shahjahan Siraj’s followers, organized a separate group of the Mukti Bahini at Nagarpur.

In June, Kader sent a group of freedom fighters to Nagarpur to capture the police station. It was alleged that some members of Baten’s groups in the Nagarpur area killed Commander Labib and his associate, Jahangir. This sad event created some animosity between the two factions.

Some fabricated complaints were lodged against the Tangail Mukti Bahini and reported to the Bangladesh Government. Various groups hatched these complaints to undermine Kader’s reputation. In addition to the past conflict, these accusers were motivated by

selfish interest, jealousy and above all, the prospect of future influence in a post-independent Tangail.

Though the Indian Army warmly greeted Kader during his August and September stay in India, the members of the Bangladesh Government snubbed him. Not a single member of the Bangladesh Government chose to contact Kader during his stay in India.

Shaheed took the opportunity to counter the allegations and explained the situation to the Bangladesh Government officials during his meeting with them.

He pointed out that there was neither government financing, nor arrangements of food supplies for the Tangail Mukti Bahini. However, we needed to feed and support the seventeen thousand freedom fighters in the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Spontaneous and unsolicited help from various people kept us going. They gave us food and shelter. Those who could afford it, donated money to support the Mukti Bahini. It is through this generosity that we had been able to survive.

Shaheed and I had earned the respect of Bangladesh Government officials and the Indian Army Generals, respectively. We were Kader’s closest and most trusted associates. Our reputation helped to clear the name of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Shaheed was the General Secretary of Salimullah Muslim Hall Student’s Union of Dhaka University and a central leader of the Student League. The post of General Secretary of Salimullah Hall was a very prestigious one in those days. Acting President Syed Nazrul Islam was once the Vice-President of the Student Union of the Salimullah Muslim Hall.

I was also a student of Dhaka University and known to some of the Bangladesh Government leaders. However, I had also become personally acquainted with Lt. General Aurora, Major General Gill, Brigadier Sanat Singh, and Brigadier Klair.

I was able to present a very positive image of the Tangail Mukti Bahini to the Indian Army, and they had graciously reported their findings to the Bangladesh Government officials.

In spite of the impact of our reputations, Shaheed’s meeting was very necessary to settle the misunderstandings between Kader and the Bangladesh Government.

Shaheed was able to dispel the air of suspicion. He apprised acting President Syed Nazrul Islam, Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed, Commander-in-Chief of the Mukti Bahini, Col. Osmani,

and others of the activities of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. Finally, they appreciated our contribution to the liberation war and sent their personal greetings to Kader Siddiqui.

Back in July, when I first came over to India, I had also sensed some suspicion towards the Tangail Mukti Bahini. Though Major General Gill and Brigadier Sanat Singh received me cordially, Captain Bose had asked me some rather embarrassing questions.

Captain Bose asked me how much cash and gold I had been carrying

Literally, I came to India empty-handed. I had a lungi, a pocketless-shirt, and a pair of sponge flip-flops on my feet. The only item I carried was a note from Kader Siddiqui that was hidden within the folds of my shirtsleeve. I had nothing else with me. I was visibly embarrassed by his question. Captain Bose apologized and said, “There is a rumor that Kader had extorted quite a bit of cash and gold.”

I explained to Captain Bose the constraints under which we arranged food and other supplies for seventeen thousand freedom fighters.

The Indian Army was also able to corroborate this information. They knew of the success of our military operations against the enemy, as they were able to intercept Pakistani Army radio messages.

My meeting with General Gill was also very meaningful in establishing the Mukti Bahini’s reputation. When I first met the general, I told him that the only purpose of my visit to India was to secure arms and ammunition.

He assured me of the supplies and proposed that I should go to Calcutta to relax for a few days.

However, I modestly declined the proposal. I explained that the liberation war was gaining momentum inside the country. At that juncture of time, the sooner I had returned with arms the better our chances would be for winning the war.

General Gill was astonished by my response and expressed that he was encouraged by my dedication to the liberation war.

My response on that day certainly helped to create a positive image about Tangail Mukti Bahini and to undo some of the false allegations against the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Shaheed and my efforts put the conspiracy against the Tangail Mukti Bahini to rest.

Conspiracy against Prime Minister Tajuddin In the absence of Bangabandhu, Prime Minister Tajuddin successfully led the liberation war. Though his family lived nearby, during the nine months of war Prime Minister Tajuddin slept in the Prime Minister’s office and personally washed his only shirt by hand. He established a standard of discipline and became the role model for others. Unfortunately, Prime Minister Tajuddin faced a myriad of challenges, some of which came from within his own circle.

Khondoker Moshtaque Ahmed, a minister & colleague of Prime Minister Tajuddin was the first to conspire against him.

Khondoker Moshtaque established a secret meeting with an American diplomat in Calcutta to prevent the complete independence of Bangladesh. Instead, he intended to keep Bangladesh within a loose confederation with Pakistan. Such an alignment would have rendered the efforts of the liberation war useless.

The second conspiracy took place with the provocation of a parliamentary group of the Awami League. A few parliamentarians moved for a no-confidence motion against Tajuddin Ahmed in the meeting of the parliamentary group.

Fortunately, Tajuddin thwarted these conspirators with patience and dexterity, and was able to lead the liberation war.

Tajuddin Ahmed was a veteran, a selfless and a dedicated leader, who was trusted by Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. However, when it became apparent that there were people lurking in the shadows waiting to conspire against a leader of such noble stature as Prime Minister Tajuddin’s, it became obvious that the Tangail Mukti Bahini would be an easy prey to such conspirators as well.

History is littered with such stories and has proven that patriots and traitors often coexist side by side.

An Atrocity at Bhuapur On November 21st, we left Mankachar by boat for Tangail with the secret message from General Aurora. However, this time we had a new companion, Abdul Latif Siddiqui, a member of parliament. Kader asked that we request Latif to join us in the free zone. He was Kader’s older brother and our former student leader.

We were on the boat for two days and two nights. During this

journey, Latif recounted various anecdotes of the past including his experiences in Calcutta. Everyone listened attentively – everyone except me.

I had other thoughts spinning in my head. I was restless. I began counting the days until I would return to Tangail.

Shaheed tried to engage me by asking me about the status of my mission. I told him that the army authorities of India had asked us to collect secret information on the enemy. However, I couldn’t share with him the information I was entrusted with regarding the paratroopers landing in Tangail.

Fortunately, we had wind and tide in our favor. We safely reached Bhuapur on November 23rd. As I got off the boat, I expected to meet Kader at Bhuapur and share the top-secret information with him right away. However, when we got to shore, we were met with some rather unfortunate news.

Bhuapur headquarters had been under Mukti Bahini control. On November 17th, a battalion of Pakistani forces launched an attack on the Mukti Bahini at Bhuapur.

A company of freedom fighters led by Commander Major Abdul Hakim put up a strong resistance. There were no freedom fighter casualties. However, while retreating, the enemy set fire to the nearby village of Chabbisha. They killed several villagers by brush fire and threw a number of old men, women, and children into the flames.

We heard the rumor that Pakistani forces also raped several women. However, people were reluctant to talk about it out of shame.

The messenger carrying this horrific news to Kader was caught and killed by enemy forces as well. Kader and others in the headquarters were unaware of the atrocity perpetrated by the retreating Pakistani forces.

Immediately after our arrival at the village, we began rehabilitation services. As the village was near my hometown, I knew the locality fairly well.

In the early months of the liberation war, Shaheed and I had visited this village a number of times. I knew many of the victims personally. We were deeply moved by the suffering of the surviving villagers.

Luckily, we had with us some medicine, winter clothes and cash, which we brought with us from India. Not to mention we had Dr.

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Shahjada Chowdhury with us who was able to provide his services.

We worked around the clock for five consecutive days. Local freedom fighters and volunteers came forward to help the victims. We were able to boost the morale of the people of Chabbisha.

However, despite the buffer gained by getting to Bhuapur so quickly, I was now running out of time. Again, I was getting restless. I needed to get General Aurora’s message to Kader. Time was no longer on my side.

Fortunately, our diligence and that of the volunteers allowed us to proceed towards Kedarpur to meet Kader.

Secret Message We arrived at Kedarpur on November 29th. Commander Sabur and his platoon received us at the landing station on the river. They informed us that Kader was on his way to welcome us. However, waiting for Kader in an open area near the river was a bad idea. Instead, we walked towards Kader’s camp. By now it had gotten quite dark.

As we advanced some distance, we met Kader. He was extremely glad to see us and warmly embraced his elder brother Latif Siddiqui He then embraced each of us – me, Shaheed, Dr. Shahjada Chowdhury, Nuru and Faruk.

As we reached Kader’s camp at Kedarpur, a platoon of freedom fighters led by Col. Fazlur Rahman received us with a formal guard of honor. We were accommodated at Kader’s camp.

After dinner, we sat in a room and indulged ourselves in a discussion of the events that happened during last nine months. Latif was the central attraction in our meeting.

Everybody present enjoyed the deliberation, as we all had been involved in student politics of Tangail under the leadership of Latif. This was the first such occasion since the Liberation War began that Latif, Kader, Shaheed and others met in the liberated zone. Our discussion continued long after midnight.

However, I was growing restless. I still had not gotten the chance to pass the secret message to Kader. He was always with someone.

In the meeting, Kader, Latif, and Shaheed sat next to each other. If I asked Kader to come out to speak with me, it would look odd. Such a gesture would be noticed and could possibly affect the mood of the meeting. I had no choice, but to wait for the right moment.

At about two in the morning, when everybody was asleep, I whispered to Kader that there was something secret I had to discuss with him.

Kader said, “Let’s go outside.”

It was dark, so as we came out, the guards stopped us and asked whether they should follow us. Kader declined their offer and asked that they stay behind.

We moved to the other end of the courtyard and sat on a bench. I talked in a very low voice. I laid out the details of my conversation with General Gill and General Aurora to Kader. I emphasized the pending arrival of the Indian Army officers in Tangail. I especially mentioned the landing of the paratroopers at the free zone near Tangail-Madhupur Highway in the first half of December. We talked almost for an hour about our future plan.

Kader told me that the following morning, he would send messages to General Gill using a secret password to allow Indian officers to come to the free zone, and he would also take the necessary measures to facilitate the landing of the paratroopers.

We knew the significance of Indian paratroopers landing on the Tangail-Madhupur Highway. It was a clear sign that our longcherished victory was pending. We embraced each other.

It was decided that the war strategy must be kept between the two of us. I felt a great relief after disclosing the top-secret information to Kader. I felt as if a huge burden was taken off of my shoulders. For the first time since November 7th, I went to bed with some peace of mind.

Setback at Nagarpur On the morning of November 30th, the security guards woke me up. I saw that Shaheed and Latif were already dressed.

Latif said, “Hurry up. Get ready. Kader is waiting for us.”

I got ready quickly and the three of us started walking along the bank of the river. After half a mile, we saw that Kader was ready with about a thousand armed freedom fighters to attack Nagarpur enemy headquarters.

He was briefing his commanders with detailed instructions for the offensive against the enemy position. We wished them success in the attack and said good-bye.

The freedom fighters divided themselves into various groups and

marched towards the enemy positions.

Around noon, we heard the first sounds of battle. Our freedom fighters were equipped with automatic machine guns and mortars. The whole area trembled from the blast of our two three-inch mortars. The firing continued for the whole day.

The enemy was stationed at the police station headquarters at Nagarpur. They had a fortified position around their perimeter. They were firing defensively from concrete bunkers, waiting for reinforcement from the Tangail enemy garrison.

Our plan was to capture the enemy position before sunset. We received information in the night that our offensive had failed and several freedom fighters were wounded in the battle. However, the freedom fighters were able to surround the enemy. They would attack again in the morning.

The next day, on December ist, Shaheed and I proceeded towards Nagarpur to get the latest updates from the battlefield. Three Mukti Bahini soldiers escorted us along the elevated village road.

We approached the enemy position from the east, behind the frontline of the Mukti Bahini position. We thought we were safe. However, we were suddenly greeted by enemy gunfire. We were sitting ducks!

From the security of their concrete bunkers, the Pakistani Army scoped us with their binoculars. As a barrage of gunfire rained down on us, we jumped down from the road and took cover behind the wall of a nearby home. The frontline Mukti Bahini forces counterfired on the enemy position.

For the third time, I narrowly escaped death. Maybe it was luck, or maybe divine intervention, but someone was looking out for me. I knew I had yet to serve a higher purpose.

We took a detour walking below the road and behind the houses. Finally, we reached the camp of Commander Fazlu.

Fazlu briefed us on what had happened the previous day. The Mukti Bahini attacked the enemy positions as per our original plan. They made a surprise lightening attack on the enemy position from three sides, keeping the western side open. The Mukti Bahini continued their fierce thrust for two hours.

Pakistani forces were shaken by the ferocity of the attack from the three sides. Moreover, they were intimidated by the mortar attack. At about sixteen hundred hours, the enemy started to escape to Tangail through the Western flank. This was all part of Kader’s

original plan. They were falling into our trap.

However, an overenthusiastic platoon of freedom fighters attacked the fleeing Pakistani soldiers from the west and thus, blocked their escape route. The Pakistan soldiers then retreated to their well-protected bunkers and resumed their firing in selfdefense. From here, they dispatched an S.O.S. to the Tangail garrison for reinforcements.

Fazlu told us that Shamsul Huq of his platoon was seriously wounded at a distance of twenty to twenty-five yards from the enemy bunkers and was confined to the ground for several hours.

Freedom fighters could not rescue him since there was no cover in between the freedom fighters’ position and that of the enemy forces.

However, it was against the freedom fighter oath to leave a wounded soldier behind. Abul Kalam of Fazlu’s platoon volunteered and took the challenge. At the risk of his own life, he slowly crawled to Shamsu and dragged his body to a safe place. Immediately, Shamsu was given medical treatment.

Meanwhile, a contingent of Pakistani forces had been moving toward Nagarpur from Tangail garrison to rescue the soldiers undersiege by the Mukti Bahini.

After receiving the information, Kader immediately marched towards Elasin Ferry Station on the Dhaleshwari River with a company of freedom fighters to resist the enemy’s movement.

Commander Fazlu warned us that it was not safe for us to stay We came back to Kaderpur.

In the evening, Commander Rabiul reported that the Mukti Bahini was in jeopardy at Elasin. The Pakistani forces launched a sudden attack and captured several freedom fighters including Commander Sabur and Commander Fazlu. Kader was positioned away from them and therefore, was unaware of their predicament.

Everyone stationed at Kedarpur camp became very worried. We were anxious to know more about this set back. Both Fazlu and Sabur were valiant freedom fighters. Their valor was known all around. It was hard to believe that they had been captured alive by the enemy.

We were shocked and worried for all of them. If something happened to Kader, what would be the future of the Tangail Mukti Bahini? We were bothered by such thoughts.

Latif was so worried for his younger brother that he began to

weep in front every one.

Shaheed and I got very worried as well. However, we tried to maintain our composure. We were all too aware of how the chain of command had broken down within the Mukti Bahini in Kader’s absence. We did our best to find out about Kader’s whereabouts.

A little later, Col. Fazlu Rahman came back and told us that Kader was safe. A few moments later, Commander Fazlu showed up to confirm the report. We were all relieved.

However, at about midnight, we became anxious again. Commander Fazlu confessed that he never had information on Kader’s safety. Under the insistence of Col. Fazlu Rahman he lied to us. Once again, anxiety gripped us throughout the night.

In the morning, a messenger, named Bachchu showed up to report that Kader was all right and he would arrive at Kedarpur in two hours. He would carry the dead bodies of two freedom fighters with him.

They had become martyrs yesterday at Elasin. Kader instructed us to prepare graves for the burial of these fallen soldiers.

At noon, Kader arrived with the dead bodies. The presence of Kader was very heartening for us. However, the dead bodies made us sad.

We had already arranged for their burial. We had purchased land in front of the mosque at Kedarpur.

We conducted a Janaja prayer, led by the imam of the mosque where hundreds of villagers were in attendance. Their caskets were adorned with the Bangladesh flag. We then followed with a twelvegun salute, before finally laying our comrades to rest.

After the burial rituals, Kader told us the truth about yesterday’s unfortunate chain of events.

Before Kader could reach Elasin, Pakistani forces had already made it to the other side of the river.

Kader instructed Commander Moinuddin to establish a defense at the bank of the river, while Kader’s company moved northwest along the river.

There was a possibility that the enemy would move to Nagarpur from a position on the river where the water level was low. This assumption was the basis for Kader’s strategy.

Commander Rabiul followed Kader. Nearby, Commander Razzak’s company was positioned to help resist the Pakistani forces.

Kader continued along the river passing Commander Razzak’s

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position. Suddenly, a shower of LMG bullets came down on Kader and his men.

Kader and his team jumped down into a ditch to save their lives. The enemy fired from the other side of the river. Luckily, the enemy was positioned too far away to pose much of a threat.

Kader moved further north to get a better idea of the enemy’s location. As he walked, he found that the companies of Sabur and Rabiul were positioned nearby waiting for the enemy.

Kader instructed them to follow him while maintaining a safe distance as he advanced farther northwest.

Kader was looking for a dry sandy surface in the middle of the riverbed, from which his men could find cover.

Before Kader could move two hundred yards, he faced yet another barrage of bullets. There was no place to hide. With such shallow grass, even lying on the ground would not help. So Kader began running as fast as he could. Luckily he found a channel to the west, where he could hide. Only seven freedom fighters were able to join him. Commanders Sabur and Rabiul and their men were nowhere to be seen.

Kader quickly took a defensive position, but found that a team of Pakistani soldiers was already on the same side of the river. They were only twenty-five to thirty yards away. They were moving towards Kader’s position under the cover of a sand strip.

Kader did not waste a minute to fire on the enemy. The enemy returned fire. An enemy bullet hit a freedom fighter named Sanowar. Kader and Abdullah continued firing without pause and succeeded in keeping the enemy from advancing. As Kader and Abdullah provided cover, Kader instructed his men, including Sanowar, to retreat to safety. After his men were safe, Kader and Abdullah continued firing, while back-pedaling to a safer position.

Kader later came to know that Commander Rabiul was positioned at a comparatively high position on the riverside. The Pakistani soldiers noticed Rabiul’s position. Hiding behind the sand strip, the enemy attacked Rabiul’s company from the side. Rabiul was caught off-guard by the enemy’s side attack. Panicking, Rabiul and small group of his men fled for safety.

However, he left behind a small group of his company who bravely resisted the attack and fired back on the enemy. They were able to kill several enemy soldiers, but unfortunately, two of their comrades were wounded. Under intense enemy fire, the freedom

fighters were forced to leave the wounded behind and retreat for safety. Sadly, as soon as the freedom fighters had retreated, the enemy advanced on the two wounded soldiers. They brutally stabbed the wounded men several times with their bayonets and killed them.

Although they were unable to save two of their fellow soldiers, the bravery of this small group of men, who without their commander, were able to put up a fight, which ultimately allowed Kader and his one-hundred freedom fighters to disperse and retreat to safety.

Kader took shelter in a house with a wounded Sanowar, who was given some medical treatment. In the morning, Kader rescued the dead bodies of the two comrades and arrived at Kedarpur.

The Pakistani Army arrived at Nagarpur to rescue their fellow soldiers, before leaving for Tangail garrison.

Finally, Nagarpur was liberated forever. However, the cost was quite high, two freedom fighters were wounded and another two had given their lives to the liberation of Nagarpur.

As soon as Kader finished his narration, our trusted messenger, Badsha, arrived. He reported that one officer of the Indian Army had arrived at Bhuapur last night. He wished to see Kader and me as soon as possible.

Though I was eagerly waiting for the arrival of the Indian Army, I didn’t expect that he would arrive so soon. Kader instructed me to go to Bhuapur to take care of the security and hospitality of the Indian officer

Badsha and I left for Bhuapur on bicycle to meet the Indian Army officer.

Landing of Indian Paratroopers in Tangail On December 3rd, Badsha and I reached the village of Baroiotol on the Dhaleshwari River near Bhuapur. The Indian officer was waiting for us in a house at that village.

When we met him, he introduced himself as Peter, a Captain of the Signal Corps of the Indian Army. He was a Bengali from Calcutta.

As we exchanged greetings, I came to understand that the captain had detailed information about Kader and me. He carried our photographs with him, as well.

We exchanged passwords, as predetermined by Brigadier Sanat Singh, and established confidence with each other. He conveyed the greetings of General Gill, Brigadier Sanat Singh, and Brigadier Klair to me, as well as, to Kader.

Captain Peter explained that he had been waiting at Mankachar on the border of Assam for a week in anticipation of our signal. I told him that because of the disaster at Chabbisha, we could not send the signal in time.

With time running out, he had no choice but to set off for Tangail District. He couldn’t continue to wait for a signal from our side. Fortunately, he received our signal in the midst of his journey.

Captain Peter arrived in the free zone just last night. He was escorted by five freedom fighters, three of which were trained wireless set operators.

I wanted to apprise him of our activities. However, he declined to listen.

He politely said, “That’s not necessary, I received a detailed briefing from Brigadier Sanat Singh and Brigadier Klair.”

Captain Peter was arguably the first Indian Army officer to infiltrate more than one hundred miles within the Bangladesh free zone before December. * We had dinner together and spent the night on two boats on the Dhaleswari River.

The next morning, I came to learn that Kader was on his way to meet us. When Kader arrived, he and Peter greeted each other warmly. Immediately after Kader’s arrival, the three of us sat down for a discussion inside one of the boats.

Peter informed us that he had already established contact with the Indian High Command through the use of a long distance wireless set.

His primary mission here was to select the strategic locations for the landing of the Indian paratroopers and send any relevant information to Indian High Command.

Peter then reiterated the details of my discussion with General Gill at Tura the previous month. He also requested that we plan an attack on the enemy at Bahadurabad Ferry Station, Jamalpur, and Modhupur to stifle enemy communication.

As I had already discussed these matters with Kader, he had instructed Commander Anis to attack the enemy position at Bahadurabad Ferry Station.

After the meeting with Captain Peter and me, Kader worked feverishly to organize the deployment of the entire Mukti Bahini for a final offensive against the enemy. He instructed the seventy commanders on their specific targets.

Captain Peter, my team, and I started testing the wireless sets.

After dinner, Kader met with Peter and me for further discussion on the boat. With the help of a kerosene lamp, we examined the Indian Army’s map of Tangail District. We examined possible safepockets in which the paratroopers could land.

By then, Kader had already instructed some of his most trustworthy men to inspect the spots personally and report back to him.

We had established that the first criteria for picking a safe landing zone was to ensure that the spot was in close proximity to the Tangail-Madhupur Highway so that the paratroopers’ heavy guns and vehicles could easily get to the highway. The other criteria we chose for a safe-spot was that the freedom fighters would be capable of protecting the paratroopers under any circumstance, during and after their landing.

After a long discussion, we selected three spots for the landing of the paratroopers: 1) Gourangighat on the West of Ghatail Police Station, 2) the wide open ground of Bangra-Sholapura on the West of Kalihati Police Station, and 3) the Pathan ground on the south of Ichchapur-Sahdevpur of Kalihati police station.

The map-points of these locations were determined and the coordinates were sent via radio messages to Indian High Command. Additionally, Badsha would deliver this information to India by hand.

The next morning, Kader left to oversee the massive preparation for the impending attacks.

On December 7th, Captain Peter and I left the boat and camped by the side of Nikrail School.

While Peter and I were busy testing the wireless sets, Kader showed up. He formally put me in charge of communication regarding all subsequent attacks.

Additionally, one hundred fifty freedom fighters were placed under my command to coordinate communication among the different companies, to maintain constant contact with Kader, and to help Peter in his work.

Additionally, I had ten military and four civilian wireless sets at

my disposal. This equipment complemented the long-distance wireless connection with India, which was already in place.

Lastly, half of the members of Kader’s team were connected directly to me via wireless communication sets.

Kader ended by formally attaching Captain Peter to my group.

After reorganizing the communication group under my command, Kader met with the commanders present at Nikrail School again for a final briefing of the battle strategies.

Amidst our hectic activities at the Nikrail School, came some uplifting news: India had finally announced its formal recognition of independent Bangladesh.

This news was widely publicized through radio stations such as Free Bangladesh Radio, Akashvani, and the BBC. We quickly arranged to spread this exhilarating news through our messengers among the villagers.

The two pieces of rousing news: India’s recognition of an independent Bangladesh, and the presence of Kader Siddiqui at Nikrail created a feverish excitement amongst the people. Thousands of people assembled at Nikrail School. They wanted to see Kader. They wanted to hear him speak.

At about three in the afternoon, while I was busy supervising the radio equipment with the operators, Kader called me in for a meeting with him.

In the meeting, we decided to organize a public rally. He asked me to arrange the construction of a stage and a microphone for the rally.

We made arrangements for the public meeting before nightfall. After the evening prayers, thousands of people assembled at the school ground.

Kader gave a passionate speech. He spoke of the sacrifices made by civilians and volunteers. He thanked them for all of their help and cooperation. He concluded his speech by saying that victory was certain for us. Bangladesh’s liberation would be a reality.

Captain Peter was deeply moved by the rally of thousands of freedom fighters and common people. He could not believe that we were such an organized and disciplined force, and that the people had so much love and support for us.

After the meeting, Kader bade good-bye to the commanders of the Eastern Zone, as they prepared to proceed to their various positions.

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By then, we made contact with Brigadier Sanat Singh through secured wireless communication. He replied with a simple message, “Wait for my next instruction.”

Kader left Nikrail at about eleven at night, but before he left, he had another meeting with Peter and me. We informed Kader of the series of information that we had already collected regarding the Mukti Bahini, the enemy position, and the Indian Army.

He set off for Jhawail to organize the attack on the Gopalpur enemy position.

He instructed us to leave Nikrail. He said, “After such a mass rally. It isn’t safe to stay here any longer.”

We started packing right away. However, it became apparent that we needed help carrying so much equipment. In addition to the one hundred fifty armed freedom fighters, I was able to recruit an additional fifty volunteers to help us transport our equipment.

Very late that evening, Peter and I proceeded with a caravan of two hundred men for Ghatail carrying all of our equipment. We were on foot all through the night and into the very next day.

In the morning of December 9th, we reached a village named Dighalkandi, which was situated near Gourangichawk to the west of the Ghatail enemy garrison.

Peter and I set up a temporary camp at the house of Abdul Halim Chowdhury. The freedom fighters took positions at various locations around the house and along the perimeter of the village.

It was almost noon when we finished setting up the communication system. From the radio communication as well as from messengers, I came to know that about ten thousand freedom fighters had taken their positions since last night and that some armed skirmishes had already taken place at some battlefields.

The team led by Commander Anis had launched an all-out attack on the enemy to capture Gopalpur and Madhupur enemy garrisons. The fierce fighting continued.

In the afternoon, news reached us that Commander Anis’ team had taken over Madhupur enemy positions. The Pakistani forces were fleeing.

The capture of Madhupur was a very important victory, since Madhupur was the conjunctive link of Jamalpur, Mymensingh, and Tangail Highways. Now that Madhupur was free, the Indian Army could easily reach Tangail from Jamalpur without any enemy interference.

Captain Peter communicated this news immediately to Indian High Command through radio messages. News also reached us that the Pakistani forces had been able to defend Gopalpur. Anis did not succeed there, but the battle was still ongoing.

Our camp was near the first Indian paratroopers’ landing site. Commander Hakim’s team had already secured the area. Additionally, a group led by Commander Habib was on high alert on Tangail-Madhupur Road to ambush enemy soldiers.

At night, Kader showed up at our camp. He called for Major Hakim and Major Habib. Kader and the commanders decided that they would launch an attack on Ghatail garrison very early the next morning. Kader and Commander Sabur’s team would lead the frontal attack on the enemy at Ghatail garrison.

As part of the plan Commander Hakim would launch a threeinch mortar attack. Meanwhile, Commander Mostafa and Commander Habib would respectively launch an attack on the two bridges to the south and north of Ghatail Police Station. Their goal was to dislodge the Pakistani soldiers on guard, before destroying the bridges.

At two in the morning, Kader and other commanders moved to their respective positions. We were all awake. As per our plan, fierce fighting began two hours later. Then, after about thirty minutes, we heard the rippling sounds of tremendous explosions.

Habib’s team had captured the bridge on Baliapara. It was completely destroyed. Sounds of shelling and ferocious gunfire could be heard till late in the morning. The inhabitants of the Ghatail area started fleeing to the west as the battle gained momentum.

Meanwhile, Commander Hakim launched his mortar attack on Ghatail Police Station at six-thirty in the morning. Soon after, we received a message from Kader that Ghatail police station was now free.

About three hundred enemy soldiers including regular army, militia, and Razakars had been captured by the freedom fighters. Eighteen dead bodies of enemy soldiers lay scattered in the police station and bunkers.

While trying to capture Kalidaspara Bridge, one freedom fighter of Commander Mostafa’s platoon was killed and two others were injured

The two wounded freedom fighters were brought to our camp for

medical treatment. Unfortunately, we did not have a doctor. However, time was running out and the situation on the battlefield was moving at a furious pace. We had been working non-stop and responding to an ever-changing battlefront.

I had personally known one of the wounded freedom fighters for several years. He trusted that I would do everything in my power to see to their immediate treatment. I was desperate to get a doctor from anywhere.

I was unable to accurately ascertain the severity of their wounds myself. Only a medical doctor would be able to properly assess their injuries. However, their groans had me worried. I had to do something quickly.

Luckily, that afternoon I learned of a female doctor just a few miles away. She happened to be a distant relative of mine. She had arrived at her village home from Dhaka just a few days earlier.

I sent some freedom fighters to her with a letter requesting her immediate medical assistance. She quickly reported to the camp and provided medical treatment to our wounded comrades.

Meanwhile, the scene on the battlefield in the border area had been rapidly escalating. On the morning of December 10th, a convoy of four hundred vehicles of the defeated Pakistani troops was retreating from Jamalpur and Mymensingh to Madhupur. Commander Anis and Commander Arzoo did not try to resist this large battalion. Rather, they retreated from Madhupur.

A convoy of six thousand enemy forces, consisting of the Pakistani Army and Razakars, started fleeing towards Dhaka.

Brigadier Kader Khan, Brigadier Newaz and Colonel Sultan of the Pakistani Army were leading the retreat. As they passed Ghatail to the north of Baniapara Bridge, Commander Habib ambushed the leading enemy contingent without knowing the strength of the convoy. Sporadic fighting broke out.

However, as Commander Habib came to understand the superior strength of the enemy convoy, he retreated from the bridge under cover of continuous fire.

Three freedom fighters from Habib’s platoon were wounded in this counter-attack and they were brought to our camp for treatment.

Meanwhile, even after the capture of Ghatail police station, Kader, Commander Sabur, Commander Khoka, Commander Habib, and their teams chose not to stay at Ghatail. Rather, they moved to

Goalgonda to the West of Ghatail.

Kader had been maintaining contact with other groups through me. In the meantime, a contingent of Brigadier Kader Khan’s brigade was on the run. Pakistani soldiers stopped at Ghatail Police Station. They intended to regroup and cover the fleeing Pakistani soldiers from any potential Mukti Bahini attacks from the rear.

At noon, Kader sent a radio message instructing us to request Indian High Command to start an air raid on Ghatail and Gopalpur enemy positions. We immediately sent our request. Within an hour, we received the return message conveying affirmation of an imminent air raid.

Kader was informed immediately. He instructed the freedom fighters stationed at the Ghatail and Gopalpur to leave their positions immediately.

At exactly three in the afternoon, 3 MIG-21 fighters began continuous raids on Gopalpur and Ghatail enemy positions.

We could clearly see the MIGs in the sky above Ghatail from our camp. The raid started with the sound of machine guns and rockets, followed by a rolling coil of smoke from behind them.

We were excited to see the air attack on the enemy positions and were overwhelmed with joy. The men at the camp began dancing with exhilaration.

After the air raid, the enemy forces at Gopalpur surrendered. Gopalpur was now under the control of the Mukti Bahini. About three hundred enemy soldiers were captured by freedom fighters.

With the air raid on Ghatail, the Pakistani Army began a quick retreat toward Tangail town.

In the afternoon of December uth, we received another coded message from the Indian High Command. After decoding it, Peter burst into joy. He warmly embraced me and asked me to contact Kader.

I sent a message to Kader, “They are coming.”

Immediately, Kader informed his commanders of the three selected zones, where the paratroopers were supposed to land and asked them to be on alert. At that time, the Pakistani soldiers were fleeing south to reach Tangail town.

Earlier, the Pakistani Air Force had been completely wiped out by the Indian Air Force. The Indian Air Force had absolute control over the Bangladeshi sky. They could fly at ease without the fear of enemy aircrafts.

On December 11th, at five in the afternoon, two Indian Air Force MIGs flew very low over Ghatail and Kalihati. Captain Peter jumped with joy. He shouted, “Look! They are here!”

The two planes began circling over a wide area. We could not tell over which of the three designated spots the paratroops would be dropped.

A few moments later, several cargo planes were seen flying above the circling MIGs. Suddenly, the two MIGs shot up towards the stratosphere as the cargo planes slowly descended.

They were Indian Air Force transport planes, AN-12, C-119, and CD-3. The planes descended in waves. As they approached their lowest point of descent, they came to a slow hover. It was as if they were floating in the air. Suddenly their bellies opened and parachutes began dropping.

Our camp brimmed with passion, joy, and ecstasy. All the inhabitants of Dighalkandi, from the young to the old, both men and women, came out to the open fields to see the spectacle. The southeastern sky, as far as we could see, was covered with what looked like big balloons.

As they initially dropped from the planes, the paratroopers looked like small white leaflets. However, as their parachutes opened up, they looked like huge umbrellas.

On a sunny and breezy afternoon, the blue sky of Tangail was brilliantly recomposed with a spectacular view created by the paratroopers. For those who were lucky enough to watch, this was the scene of a lifetime. It was an unforgettable moment.

It took almost an hour for all the paratroopers to land. The sun had already begun to set. A battalion of paratroopers of the Indian Army landed. They were under the command of Col. Pannu. Under the cover of darkness, the paratroopers began regrouping.

We all rejoiced at the signs of an impending victory.

Liberation of Tangail town Captain Peter failed to communicate with the paratroopers as they landed. For some reason, our radio communication with the paratroopers had broken down. Moreover, the paratroopers landed on the third spot in Kalihati, the farthest location from us. This made physical contact very difficult amidst the darkness of the night

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Our initial plan was that Captain Peter would join the paratroopers as they landed. This did not happen.

Peter immediately became impatient and restless. He asked me to do something. He wanted to know whether he could go and meet the paratroops right then and there.

I asked him to calm down. I told him that I would contact Kader to see if he could do something about the situation.

At about eight that evening, Kader stopped by our camp. Peter was visibly excited and immediately asked whether the landing of the paratroopers went well. He was eager to know whether contact had been established with them.

Kader reassured Peter that the landing went perfectly and they had been in contact with the Mukti Bahini. The leader of the paratroopers was due to meet with the freedom fighters later that night.

Several thousand freedom fighters, under the direct command of Kader, were engaged in battle for the last sixteen hours. They were all very tired and hungry. We arranged for their meals to be made.

After dinner, Kader rested before reviewing the reports from the battlefield. The reports confirmed that the highways connecting Madhupur, Gopalpur, Kalihati, and Sholakura were now all under the full control of the Mukti Bahini.

The fleeing Pakistani soldiers had been attacked from various positions on the Tangail-Madhupur Highway. They had repositioned themselves further south on the highway between Phultala and Pungli. They were just south of Kalihati Police Station.

About twenty vehicles of the Pakistan Army had been destroyed and more than fifty soldiers had been killed. The Mukti Bahini had been able to capture a number of vehicles as well as a huge quantity of arms and explosives. We were pleased with the outcome of the battles.

In the meeting, we chalked out a strategy to liberate Tangail town. A strong contingent of twenty-five hundred soldiers would be deployed in the form of various platoons and companies.

At four in the morning, Kader sent firm instructions to Commander Habib asking him to build up a strong defense at Kalidaspara. His plan was to prevent the remnants of the enemy forces at Mymensingh and Jamalpur garrisons from retreating and attacking us from the rear.

An hour later, Kader headed out with his troops to Tangail along

the Mymensingh-Tangail Highway.

This time, Peter and I also joined Kader’s core team. Our journey was smooth. We were welcomed at the liberated Kalihati headquarters by Commanders Nabi Newaz, Riaz, and Samad Gama. They reported that their forces were in full control of the Kalihati Police Station.

They further reported that Tangail Highway was in our control as far south as Sholakura. So we immediately made our way to Sholakura. The teams of Commander Moin, Golam Sarwar, and Abdul Hamid had liberated this part of the highway.

They gave us the exact positions of the paratroopers.

Battle at Pungli Bridge As we crossed Sholakura Bridge and moved forward to Ichhapur, we came under the attack of enemy forces. We were forced to halt.

The freedom fighters at Kalihati had already told us about the previous night’s battle at Pungli Bridge.

After landing last night, the Indian paratroopers took control of Pungli Bridge. Unfortunately, they landed between a convoy of Pakistani soldiers who were fleeing Sholakura and another who were already south of the bridge.

On the other hand, the enemy contingent to the north of the bridge was trapped as well. They were stuck between freedom fighters to the north and Indian paratroopers to the south.

The enemy soldiers panicked and took an offensive against the paratroopers. They desperately tried to pierce through the cordon and move towards Tangail town.

Initially, the paratroopers were puzzled that they had landed in such close proximity to the Pakistani Army. However, the paratroopers fought back with mortars and machineguns.

A fierce battle continued throughout the night. The Pakistani forces suffered heavy losses. Moreover, they had already suffered sizeable casualties in the battles with the Mukti Bahini the day before. They were demoralized.

The spineless nature of the Pakistani Army became apparent in this battle. Rather than rescue their desperate comrades to the north, the convoy of Pakistani soldiers positioned south of Pungli Bridge chose to flee to Tangail town.

After suffering serious losses, the remnants of the enemy

contingent north of the bridge abandoned their strategy. They needed to buy time for a new exit strategy. They tried to halt the advance of the Mukti Bahini from the north, so they attacked our position from Ichhapur.

Kader ordered for a strong counter-attack. We were equipped with heavy arms. The Mukti Bahini started its counter-attack from our position at Sholakura with three-inch mortars, light cannons, and heavy machineguns.

Meanwhile, nearly one thousand freedom fighters, under the leadership of Commanders Mostafa, Sabur, Fazlul Huq, Moqbul Hossain, and Tamos advanced towards Ichhapur.

They avoided the highway and marched through the inner roads across the villages. Succumbing to the pressure of a thirty-minute assault by the Mukti Bahini, the Pakistani Army retreated from Ichhapur to Phultala.

We accompanied Kader to Ichhapur. However, as there was no cover between the enemy and us we could not advance farther south. The land between Ichapur and Phultala was wide open. We had no choice, but to maintain our position.

Kader requested an Indian air raid on the enemy position. Captain Peter made contact and informed us that an air raid would take place at nine that morning.

The Indian Air Force launched its attack on the enemy position as planned.

By the first week of December, the Indian Air Force destroyed the entire fleet of Pakistani Air Force fighter planes stationed in Bangladesh.

There was absolutely no chance of a counter-attack. The squadron of Indian fighter planes bombarded their targets with ease. Forty vehicles of the Pakistani Army were set ablaze by the air raid. Hundreds of Pakistani soldiers were killed.

After the air raid, Kader instructed the commanders to move ahead to Phultala. The troops of Kader and Commander Sabur took their positions alongside the house of Amjad Hossain.

Commander Sabur had been trying to assess the situation at Phultala with a pair of binoculars. He bent down alongside the wall of an old mosque to secure his footing. No sooner than he had taken his first glance, had an enemy mortar shell exploded about one or two feet above his head. The mortar hit and broke the wall of the mosque behind him. Commander Sabur was knocked to the ground

by the massive thrust of the shell.

His squad immediately rushed to his side to rescue their commander. But surprisingly, he wasn’t hurt. With debris shattered everywhere, it was a miracle that he was still alive.

While our attention was with Commander Sabur’s miraculous fortune, several volunteers arrived escorting a contingent of paratroopers.

Behind the force of last night’s gusty winds, the paratroopers drifted away from their targeted position.

Furthermore, as the battle commenced at nightfall near the Pungli Bridge, they had no chance to join the main contingent.

They made every attempt to contact Kader, but their efforts were in vain. However, as the volunteers knew that Kader was still at Ichhapur, they brought the paratroopers to us.

Captain Peter was very happy to see them. He narrated his experience to his fellow soldiers with excitement.

There was a captain amongst the contingent of paratroopers. He informed us of a minor injury to one of his paratroopers who had gotten stuck in a tree upon arrival. Fortunately, the volunteers rescued him and were able to arrange for his medical treatment.

Kader asked them to get some rest at Ichhapur. He instructed a team of freedom fighters to escort the paratroopers to the main contingent through the Eastern Passage of Tangail-Kalihati Highway.

Local volunteers arranged for their meals. Captain Peter thanked us for our hospitality and accompanied the paratroopers.

As the freedom fighters advanced towards Phultala, the captain of the paratroopers expressed his wish to join us in our fighting. Kader said that the Mukti Bahini was strong enough to face the enemy themselves.

He thanked them anyway for their offer of support. Kader asked them to save their energy for Dhaka.

We bade goodbye to Captain Peter and his team and moved toward Phultala.

The enemy forces were seriously weakened by the air raid, but they were far from annihilated. After a long pause following the raid, the enemy continued firing at us sporadically as we advanced along the right and left trenches of the highway.

Kader instructed Commander Halim to launch a mortar attack on the enemy at Phultala. This strategy provided cover under which,

about three hundred freedom fighters moved towards Phultala.

A reconnaissance team of the Mukti Bahini crossed Phultala Bridge unopposed. Up until now, the enemy fire came in intervals from the direction of Phultala. The freedom fighters cordoned off the village. However, after an hour, the enemy gunfire stopped.

We found out that the enemy had fled the village and headed west. Their earlier firing was intended only to slow us down.

In the afternoon, when we took full control of Phultala, I saw about fifty to sixty wounded Pakistani soldiers groaning and lying scattered around. About forty vehicles of the Pakistani Army had been completely destroyed.

The enemy soldiers abandoned their vehicles, left the highway, and fled on foot through the villages. Scattered along the side of the highway were even articles of Pakistani Army fatigue, suggesting that the cowards fled in civilian clothes. It was a desperate move to save their lives.

We established direct contact with the Indian paratroopers positioned at Pungli Bridge.

As we celebrated the liberation of Phultala, we came to learn that Brigadier Klair of the Indian Army was on his way to Tangail with strong convoy of his brigade and additional Mukti Bahini forces.

They had already reached Bamutia to the north. They were eager to meet Kader. Kader immediately left with his squad to head north and welcome Brigadier Klair.

In the meantime, I left with a team of freedom fighters for Pungli Bridge to meet the Indian paratroopers.

Enemy Dead Bodies As we walked on the road to Pungli Bridge, I came face to face with a bone-chilling scene – the stage of last night’s battle between Pakistani forces and the Indian paratroopers.

The corpses of hundreds of enemy soldiers were littered on the road. Their bodies sprawled from one side of the bridge to the other.

These lifeless bodies blanketed our path at every step. We walked with the utmost care so as to respect the dead.

We found limbs separated from torsos. Bodies of enemy soldiers in jeeps were found tangled and twisted. The corpses were amalgamated to their vehicles.

One of our escorts collapsed at the sight of several bodies

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decapitated from the impact of close range blasts. It was mindboggling. Never in my life had I seen so much death in one place.

I couldn’t help but rhetorically ask myself, “Why had the Pakistani government sent these men to kill innocent Bengalis? Look at them now. They were lambs lead to the slaughter.”

These men were fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons. What could the Pakistani military junta say to the relatives of these men? They were told that they were fighting to protect Islam. But, they were mere pawns sent to carry out the dirty work of a despotic regime. There was no honor in the work that these men came to do.

And yet, I could not help but feel saddened by the sight of so many that were sent to sacrifice their lives for an unjust cause,

We crossed the bridge and reached the location of the paratroopers. I introduced myself and asked to see their commander. A paratrooper escorted me to the commander, but before I could introduce myself, Captain Peter came forward and introduced me to the commanding officer.

We exchanged greetings and sat under the bridge. The paratroopers had created a makeshift command control.

As I told them about the liberation of Phultala, a signalman interrupted to inform us that Brigadier Klair and Kader were headed towards Pungli Bridge together.

Kader and Brigadier Klair arrived at Pungli Bridge at about three in the afternoon. We ran up to the bridge to receive them. We greeted each other. The commander of the paratroopers escorted us back under the bridge.

Champagne When Brigadier Klair and Kader Siddiqui stepped down, five hundred freedom fighters and paratroopers received them with a thundering applause.

Brigadier Klair instructed his officers to assemble and celebrate the victory with bottles of champagne. Within minutes, corks began flying into the air as foam rimmed over the tops of bottles.

Everyone was given a glass. When I was approached, I politely declined and requested that he give Kader and me glasses of soda water instead. We all held our glasses in the air in celebration of our victory.

Brigadier Klair came to me and said hello.

I replied, “Welcome to Tangail.”

He thanked me and referred to the help and cooperation extended by the Tangail Mukti Bahini. I smiled and asked him about General Gill

Suddenly, the celebratory smile adorning Brigadier Klair’s face had vanished. He told me that the general was in the hospital. A few days ago, General Gill was seriously wounded in a road accident near Kamalpur.

I was shocked to hear of the accident. I knew General Gill very well. He was very sympathetic and appreciative of my work, and that of the efforts of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

From the corner of my eye, I saw my old friend Captain Bose. When I first met Captain Bose, he introduced himself to me as an officer in the Signal Corps of the Indian Army. However, as I approached him, his superior officer revealed that Captain Bose was actually an officer of the Intelligence Division of the Indian Army.

In hindsight, Captain Bose was clearly good at what he did. In the time I knew him, he was not only able to gain my trust and extract information from me about Kader and the Tangail Mukti Bahini, but he was even able to gain details about my personal life, and all without ever letting me know that he was an intelligence officer.

The celebration allowed me to reflect on the significance of the recent events of the war.

Captain Peter’s entry one hundred miles inside of Bangladesh was a very important and significant moment with respect to war strategies. However, this truth wouldn’t be fully understood until the end of the war.

In early October, a strong contingent of joint military forces consisting of the Indian Army and freedom fighters was mobilized on the borders of Comilla, Sylhet, and Jessore. Heavy artillery and tanks were positioned in these sectors. The presence of the joint forces was very visible to the Pakistani Army in these sectors.

However, in the Mymensingh and Jamalpur sectors to the north, the presence of the joint forces was much weaker.

This was an intentional move by the joint forces to mislead the enemy.

Pakistani forces assumed that the Indian Army would move towards Dhaka through the Comilla border. However, General Aurora had a different plan.

On the Mymensingh border, he positioned only two Brigades of

the 101 Communication Zone under the leadership of Brigadier Klair and Brigadier Sanat Singh.

These two infantry brigades, equipped with light armory, pressured the Pakistani forces on the borders of Kamalpur and Haluaghat.

Pakistan High Command never thought that India would launch an attack from these locations. Therefore, the elderly Pakistani officer, Brigadier Kader Khan was left alone in charge of this sector.

For Brigadier Khan, this was only the second surrender of his military carrier. During our interrogation, we came to know that he had once surrendered to the Indian Army on the West Pakistan border during the Indian-Pakistani War of 1965.

Wounded General Gill As I spoke to the other officers, I came to know of two accidents. On December ist, Brigadier Klair and Brigadier Sanat Singh moved with their brigades and the Mukti Bahini towards Jamalpur and Mymensingh, respectively.

On December 9th, General Gill joined Brigadier Klair and proceeded from Mahendraganj to Jamalpur by jeep. Unfortunately, somewhere between Kamalpur and Bakshiganj, their jeep ran over an enemy anti-tank mine.

The jeep was flipped upside down from the blast of the mine. General Gill was seriously wounded. He lost conscious and both of his feet were badly injured.

He was immediately taken to Tura by helicopter and then to the Shillong Army Hospital for medical treatment.

Miraculously, Brigadier Klair walked away unscathed. He was a lucky soldier. A few days earlier, during a fight in Jamalpur, Brigadier Klair got a little too close to the frontline near the Jamalpur Pakistani Garrison. He came under heavy fire. His bodyguard was killed. The brigadier himself was shot six times. Fortunately, all of the bullets pierced his loose-fitting jacket without ever touching his body. Once again, he was unhurt.

Major General Nagra had now taken over command from Major General Gill.

How ironic? General Gill chalked out the strategies of the last few months. While brigadiers Klair and Singh, along with the Mukti Bahini led by Kader, marched towards Dhaka following his plan,

General Gill was confined to a hospital bed thousands of miles away in Shilong, Assam.

Friendly Fire In the morning, Brigadier Klair occupied Jamalpur Pakistani garrison, which had been abandoned by the enemy earlier. He left some soldiers in Jamalpur and immediately marched to Madhupur on the way to Tangail town.

Since this area was under the control of joint forces already, Brigadier Klair’s convoy easily advanced to Ghatail.

However, as soon as the convoy arrived at Kalidaspara, an unfortunate accident occurred.

A company of Mukti Bahini led by Major Habib was stationed at Kalidashpara. The sight of a long military convoy alerted them. They had no prior information about the movement of the Indian convoy at the time.

Unfortunately, the freedom fighters mistook Klair’s convoy as the enemy’s. The Mukti Bahini opened fire on the convoy. The Indian forces were taken off guard, as well. They knew that the road was clear up to Pungli Bridge where the Indian paratroopers were waiting for them.

Nonetheless, Brigadier Klair’s convoy returned fire in selfdefense. The fighting continued only for few minutes. However, it was too late. The damage was already done.

Lives were lost on both sides. Four freedom fighters were killed and eleven others were injured. The damage to the joint forces was more significant: seven were dead and another seventeen were seriously wounded.

When the smoke had cleared, Major Habib escorted Brigadier Klair’s convoy to Bamutia where Kader welcomed Brigadier Klair.

After talking to Indian officers, I gathered detailed information on the casualties of both sides from the previous night’s battle around Pungli Bridge. Three hundred-seventy Pakistan soldiers were killed and more than one hundred were injured. Six Indian paratroopers were killed as they landed in the midst of the enemy forces and fifteen more were injured.

That day, paratroopers captured six hundred Pakistani soldiers. This may have been a disastrous day for the enemy, but for us, it was a day of victory and joy.

After the meeting, Kader and Klair decided to move on to Tangail that same evening. But before they did so, they inquired into the status of freedom fighters at Tangail and the state of the war to the south.

Reports had reached us that after a daylong battle under the leadership of Commanders Fazlur Rahman, Razzaque, Mainuddin, Niyat Ali, and Matiar Rahman, most of Tangail town had finally been taken by the freedom fighters.

To the north, Jamalpur and Mymensingh were liberated. The landing of the paratroopers and the heavy losses sustained by the enemy at Pungli Bridge had left the Pakistan Army shaken and scared.

The enemy’s situation was further aggravated by the attack of the freedom fighters on Tangail town. As a result, most of the Pakistani soldiers had fled towards Dhaka.

Meanwhile, the Mukti Bahini had launched an attack on Dhaka Highway. A small contingent of Pakistani forces at the new Tangail town garrison was cut off from all sides. They were virtually surrounded.

Nonetheless, the enemy did not surrender. Rather, they desperately launched a counter-attack on the Mukti Bahini position.

With this in mind, Kader advised Brigadier Klair to wait until he moved into Tangail town and secured it completely. Brigadier Klair was happy to avoid a conflict with the Pakistan Army in Tangail town, as his main objective was to seize Dhaka.

At four in the afternoon, the expedition to Tangail town began. Commander Sabur’s team was placed in front with machine gunready jeeps. The teams of Commander Mostafa and Kader followed them. There were two hundred freedom fighters moving slowly toward Tangail town. Commander Hakim was instructed to keep pace from the rear with his mortars.

Ten minutes after Kader left, I said goodbye to Brigadier Klair and Captain Peter and joined Commander Hakim’s platoon. When we reached Sari Deola near Tangail town, we saw that the Mukti Bahini was busy exchanging fire with the enemy who was now trapped in its new headquarters at Tangail town.

We found that the enemy was firing machine guns perched atop the municipality water-tank. Commander Hakim’s team joined the battle and we immediately started firing mortar shells on the enemy position at the water tank. Within moments Commander Hakim’s

mortar shells hushed the enemy guns. The Pakistani stronghold was forced to surrender

On the way to town, Kader stopped at his house. The Pakistani Army had burned it to the ground.

It was an emotional moment for Kader. This was the home his parents had built. It was where he and his siblings grew up. And now only ashes covered the foundation of his home. All of his earthly possessions, all of his family’s valuables, accumulated over several decades were looted and burned. All he had left were his memories.

Sadly, Kader had no time to reflect on his personal loss. He had something more valuable ahead to fight for. He had to move on.

Kader arrived at the district Awami League office in midtown Tangail by around seven that evening. Commanders Fazlur Rahman, Razzaque, and the others received Kader. By noon, these commanders had already liberated old Tangail town. After the horrors and joys of battle, we all embraced each other warmly.

By now, tens of thousands of people had begun assembling around the Awami League premises to see Kader and to celebrate our victory. The whole town was dancing with joy.

We sent word to Brigadier Klair that it was now safe to move into Tangail town.

On December 11th, Tangail town was liberated from the Pakistani forces.

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Chapter 9

Final Victory: The Liberation of Dhaka

Major General Nagra in Tangail We received a message that Brigadier Klair was proceeding with his large convoy towards Tangail from Pungli Bridge. He wanted to meet Kader Siddiqui.

We left the Awami League office and marched towards TangailMymensingh Road.

We greeted Brigadier Klair at the bus station near the intersection of Tangail-Dhaka Road. Brigadier Klair congratulated Kader for liberating Tangail town. Brigadier Klair wanted to know the position of the Pakistani forces on Tangail-Dhaka road to the south. Kader told him that his freedom fighters had control of Tangail-Dhaka Highway up to Vatkura Bridge. Kader added that they must not go beyond Vatkura Bridge during the night. Brigadier Klair promised Kader that he would not do so and proceeded to march towards Dhaka with his troops.

We went to the WAPDA guesthouse on Tangail-Mymensingh Road and turned it into a temporary headquarters for Kader.

We had been working ceaselessly for the last five days. Those who worked with Kader, as his personal squad, had to move very quickly from place to place.

For the last nine months, Kader, as the commander-in-chief of our group, was constantly on the move. He traveled from camp to camp and from sector to sector on foot. And on some lucky occasions, he was able to travel by boat.

However, the last five days, from December 7th to December 11th, were completely different. Though we were physically exhausted

due to our non-stop activities and fierce fighting, we were mentally replenished and excited from the sweet taste of a hard earned victory – the liberation of Tangail.

Until midnight, we reviewed the current law and order of Tangail town. We further reviewed the strategy for the liberation of Dhaka, as well as, the responsibility of each unit of the Mukti Bahini. A blanket of tight security was established around the building before we went to sleep. For the first time in months, we slept peacefully in the heart of liberated Tangail town.

The next morning we woke up breathing the fresh air of a newly liberated land. The freedom fighters were chanting slogans, “March to Dhaka, Liberate Dhaka.” By nightfall, the joint forces of the Indian Army and the Mukti Bahini had already proceeded a significant distance towards Dhaka.

One day earlier, as we were attacking enemy forces to the north of Tangail, our Mukti Bahini forces ambushed the fleeing Pakistani forces on Tangail-Dhaka Road.

Commanders Baijid, Shamsul Haque, Sulaiman, Lutfur, Naik Alam, Azad Kamal, Sultan and their heroic freedom fighters led this operation. Fleeing Pakistani forces suffered heavy casualties at the hands of the Mukti Bahini. In addition, Mukti Bahini road mines blew up several enemy jeeps.

The previous night, after the liberation of Tangail town, Kader ordered our forces to clean up the mines to make Tangail-Dhaka Road safe for the joint forces.

Under the cover of darkness, the joint forces reached Kaliakor without any resistance. Kaliakor was situated about thirty miles south of Tangail and twenty miles north of Dhaka.

The Mukti Bahini and their supporters lead the way for the joint forces at every intersection. Brigadier Klair set up his temporary garrison at Kaliakor.

The next morning, Brigadier Klair led a strong convoy of about five thousand men to Kadda-Mouchak near Dhaka.

Meanwhile, Brigadier Sant Singh led another convoy of joint forces to Mymensingh on December uth, after routing Pakistani forces in Haluaghat and Shambuganj Ferry Station.

The next day, on December 12th, Brigadier Singh reached Tangail town. Kader and I welcomed him at Kader’s headquarters. Brigadier Singh jumped out of his jeep and opened his arms and bear-hugged both of us. Even his bushy mustache could not hide his smile. His

joy and happiness flowed through his face.

There was good reason for this Sikh officer’s excitement. During the previous nine months, Brigadier Singh had been in charge of training of about fifty thousand freedom fighters at a camp near Tura in the state of Meghalaya. He trained many of the Tangail Mukti Bahini as well.

Brigadier Singh was known as the Babajee (Father) to the freedom fighters in this sector. He was leading a large contingent of about five thousand joint forces to the south to liberate Dhaka.

The Tangail Mukti Bahini was part and parcel to his core strategy to liberate Dhaka. He took pride in introducing the Tangail Mukti Bahini and me to Indian Army leadership.

And now, for him to arrive in a liberated Tangail town, to meet two of his old friends, he was filled with a sense of accomplishment. He congratulated us, and praised the role of the Tangail Mukti Bahini in liberating Tangail and supporting the Indian Army. He was particularly appreciative of our coordination of the paratrooper’s landing

Brigadier Singh spent some time with us as he rested. After some refreshments, he proceeded to the south to join his colleague, Brigadier Klair, at Kaliakor.

Major General Nagra arrived in Tangail on the night of the 13th. Brigadier Klair and Brigadier Singh were already in Tangail to receive their new commander. We received General Nagra at the WAPDA guesthouse.

At about 9.30 pm, General Nagra sat down in a closed door meeting with Brigadier Klair, Brigadier Singh, and Kader to discuss the strategy for liberating Dhaka. He liberally praised the contribution of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. He particularly appreciated the contribution of our forces in creating an easy passage for the Indian forces up to Kaliakor.

We inquired about General Gill’s recuperation. He informed us that General Gill was making good progress in the hospital and his wounds were healing nicely. We asked General Nagra to convey our best wishes to General Gill.

The Capture of a Pakistani Brigadier The Pakistani forces fleeing from Jamalpur and Mymensingh sectors were completely shattered and demoralized after their defeat

at Pungli Bridge and the fall of Tangail town to the Mukti Bahini.

Their command structure had broken down completely. The defeated enemy soldiers were forced to abandon their vehicles and walk through villages to avoid encounters with freedom fighters. The Mukti Bahini was in complete control of Tangail-Dhaka Road.

Some of the enemy soldiers took off their military uniforms and changed into civilian clothing. They were trying to make it on foot to Dhaka. They were desperate to save their lives.

On The 14th of December, the joint forces captured one such group of Pakistani soldiers near Mouchak. There were thirty-one men in the group, none of whom put up a fight. This was surprising given that one of these men was quite a catch. He was the infamous Brigadier Kader Khan of the Pakistani Army, a terror to the people of Jamalpur and Mymensingh.

Brigadier Khan had abandoned his garrison in Mymensingh and came to Tangail around December ioth. After the fall of Tangail, he attempted to flee to Dhaka with a small convoy of about fifty officers and soldiers. The rest of his brigade had been destroyed. They had been either killed or captured by the joint forces.

Given the presence of the Mukti Bahini on the roads, Brigadier Khan and his group, followed suit with the other fleeing soldiers, abandoning their vehicles and walking through the villages.

Though they carried small arms, they lacked the courage and strength to raise their guns to the villagers for food and shelter. This would not have been a problem for them in the past.

But now, they were forced to beg these Bangladeshi villagers for food and water. They were at the mercy of the same people they once murdered, raped, and exploited.

Nonetheless, the villagers thought it best to oblige. Begging or not, these were demoralized men carrying guns who had already shown the kind of atrocities that they were capable of committing.

Under these circumstances, Brigadier Khan began losing control over his subordinate officers and soldiers. Though he wanted to flee to Dhaka, his troops were divided. Some argued that it would be suicidal to continue walking. They were afraid of being killed by the Mukti Bahini. Others were even afraid of the villagers. Several of his soldiers had already deserted the unit and disappeared into the forest.

Brigadier Khan had a dilemma. He had no control. He and his men were hungry, paranoid, tired, and demoralized.

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Brigadier Khan, an officer of the so-called heroic Pakistani Army, the self-proclaimed defenders of Islam, finally decided to surrender.

Around noon, while discussing some logistical issues with the officers of the Indian Army at the circuit house of the new Tangail District headquarters, Brigadier Kader Khan and some his fellow Pakistani officers were brought forth to us.

Their mere presence infuriated us. Our emotions were running high. At any moment, any one of us was bound to lose control.

Over the last nine months, these beasts sitting in front of us with their heads down, killed our people, raped our women, and destroyed our homes. Brigadier Kader Khan was even known for personally raping women in his garrison at Mymensingh. On the battlefield, they tortured and killed our wounded comrades. They had no respect for the Geneva Convention. They had no respect for humanity.

Nonetheless, we were aware of our responsibilities. We were not the monsters that they were. We resisted our emotions and vengeful desires. We were victorious and they were defeated. They were prisoners of war. With their tails between their legs, they sat in front of us in humiliation. The guilt of their past sins weighed heavily, not on their conscience, but on their paranoid state of mind.

Somehow, we controlled ourselves. The Indian officers treated them politely and with care. They asked the prisoners what they needed. The captured soldiers, of course, were hungry and asked for food. The prisoners were taken to the next room and fed.

After they were done eating, an Indian intelligence officer interrogated them for an hour. Soon after, an Indian Army helicopter landed in front of the circuit house and took Brigadier Kader Khan and the other prisoners to India. However, many of us still had mixed emotions. Would these war criminals ever pay for their sins?

Meanwhile, on the battlefront at Kodda, fierce fighting had broken out between Brigadier Klair’s force and the Pakistani Army. They had been fighting since the morning of December 14th.

The enemy was pounding on the position of the joint forces with mortar and canon fire. They were desperate to stall the advancement of the joint forces towards Dhaka. The joint forces had no longrange cannons. Therefore, Brigadier Klair had no choice, but to avoid a face-to-face battle with the enemy.

With the help of the freedom fighters, the Indian Army crossed the river through left and right flanks attacking the enemy from

each side. Pakistani forces could not withstand the attack of the joint forces and were forced to retreat. However, before doing so, they destroyed Kodda Bridge. Brigadier Klair had to stop and camp at the bridge.

Reception of Major General Nagra On December 14th, we arranged a public meeting in front of Bindubashini High School to receive General Nagra. This would be the first public meeting in liberated Tangail. In the meantime, Shaheed, the chief of the civilian administration of the Tangail freedom fighters, came to Tangail from our headquarters in Shakhipur. Latif Siddiqui and Basit Siddiqui, two members of the Bangladesh Parliament, accompanied him.

A stage was built on the roof of the school building. Just before departing from the WAPDA guesthouse, Kader Siddiqui asked me to call General Nagra to come to the meeting. He was staying at the government circuit house at district headquarters.

I called the circuit house. Col. Pannu, commander of the Indian Army paratroopers, answered the phone. I asked the colonel to convey Kader’s request to General Nagra to join us in the meeting.

I left the WAPDA guesthouse after Kader, and reached the meeting in a separate car. The playground in front of the school was packed. Thousands of people already gathered at the meeting. Shaheed, Latif, and Basit were already seated on the dais on the roof.

As I approached the front of the building, I found a ladder hanging from the roof. It was made of rope and bamboo. As the winter chill blew overhead, the ladder would oscillate from left to right making it difficult to climb. I knew that someone as thin as me would have no trouble climbing the ladder. However, such a task might be a bigger challenge for some of the larger, heavier-set men.

I carefully made my way up the ladder. I had no intention of falling off in front of thousands of people and embarrassing myself. At the top of the ladder, I carefully hoisted myself onto the platform and joined the others on the dais.

From the roof, I saw the District Commissioner of Tangail, the chief executive officer of the district, sitting on the ground with the general public. His fellow officers of the district administration accompanied him.

During peace times, the District Commissioner would have been

on the dais, and perhaps, would have presided over such a meeting himself. However, the District Commissioner and all of his officers had spent the last nine months working for Pakistani forces. Their guilt had usurped their position.

A little later, General Nagra arrived at the meeting accompanied by Col. Pannu and his staff. They climbed the ladder with ease disproving my apprehension. I welcomed them on the dais and introduced General Nagra to the public. However, Kader had not yet arrived.

General Nagra looked at me and asked, “Where is Kader?”

With a look of embarrassment, I told him that he would be here at any moment.

General Nagra was obviously upset with the absence of his host Kader. He turned to Col. Pannu seated next to him and said in an irate voice: “You made a mistake by bringing me here so quickly. You should have made sure that Kader was here already.”

As I stood behind them, I could hear their exchanges. Col. Pannu could do nothing more than apologize. He was visibly embarrassed and shaken. General Nagra retorted to Col. Pannu, “According to the protocol, Kader should have been present here to receive me.”

Fortunately, before this episode could continue further, Kader arrived escorted by his bodyguards.

I whispered to Kader and told him about the incident. I explained that General Nagra was irritated that Kader was not there to receive him.

Kader understood the seriousness of the situation. He mentioned in his public address that he was caught in an urgent matter on the way to the meeting and humbly apologized for his lateness. He added that he was sorry that he could not receive General Nagra personally. Kader then segued into praising General Nagra and the Indian Army for their help in the war.

I noticed General Nagra smile, as Col. Pannu almost immediately let off a sigh of relief.

In response, General Nagra expressed his profound praise for the courage of Kader and his forces. He then exclaimed, “Dhaka will be liberated soon.”

The public roared in response.

After General Nagra left, the second phase of the meeting began. First Shaheed, Latif, and Basit addressed the meeting. Kader, in his second speech, thanked the people of Tangail for their help and

cooperation in the war. He also vowed that Dhaka would be liberated soon.

Liberation of Savar The next morning, an Indian Army brigade led by Brigadier Sanat Singh was proceeding towards Dhaka through Nabinagar-Savar Road. About six thousand freedom fighters from our group joined the Indian brigade.

In the evening, the joint forces encountered heavy resistance from the Pakistani Army camp at Jahangirnagar University. This was the last fortified Pakistani Army camp on Savar-Dhaka Highway.

Fierce gunfire continued all through the night. However, enemy moral was at an all time low. They were fighting the joint forces along the outskirts of Dhaka, the capital and their headquarters.

On the other hand, the joint forces fought with a newfound vigor. They had made it all the way to the fringes of Dhaka. They fought with resolve and defeated the Pakistani forces.

However, the battle was costly for both sides. About one hundred-fifty Pakistani forces were killed and about one hundred were wounded. Eleven soldiers of the Indian Army were killed and five were wounded. Luckily, the Mukti Bahini suffered no casualties.

Our schedules were very hectic during the last four days in Tangail. We had captured several thousands of Pakistani soldiers and Razakars. A few Pakistani Army officers were taken prisoner and sent to India.

We had to take care of the rest. It was a logistical nightmare. Shaheed and I were in charge of these activities. Fortunately, several thousand Mukti Bahinis were ready to help us.

Meanwhile, Kader was shuttling between the battlefield and Tangail, coordinating both war and logistics.

Major General Nagra came back to Tangail again on December 15th and stayed at the Tangail circuit house. He called Kader at 11 pm and asked whether it would be possible for us to supply breakfast for thousands of his soldiers on the battlefield by morning. Kader agreed.

Hundreds of Mukti Bahini and volunteers worked all night and cooked breakfast for several thousand Indian soldiers. By 5 AM, the foods were delivered to the joint forces at the Tangail circuit house. From there the food was taken by helicopter to the battlefield.

Victory Day It was the 16th of December. Kader had arrived at Tangail circuit house at five-thirty in the morning. General Nagra was waiting for Kader there.

An Indian Army helicopter arrived from Mymensingh and landed in front of the circuit house at 6 am. Both Kader and General Nagra boarded the helicopter and headed towards the makeshift headquarters of Brigadier Klair at Mouchak near Kadda.

Brigadier Klair received them warmly. With excitement he exhaled, “I have breaking news! Pakistani General Niazi is expected to surrender today”

He further added that he had intercepted messages of the enemy, which indicated that they were getting ready to surrender. Moreover, the Pakistani Army had not had any activities in this sector since last night. This was peculiar, as they knew that the joint forces were closing in on them.

However, Brigadier Klair added that the Pakistani Army had put up a tough resistance against Brigadier Singh at Mirpur.

General Nagra was visibly happy with this development. He said, “Let’s go and find out what is going on with Brigadier Singh.”

The helicopter flew west with General Nagra, Brigadier Klair, and Kader. They landed on Dhaka-Manikganj Highway near Mirpur. Brigadier Sanat Singh was there to receive them. Brigadier Singh briefed them on the fierce resistance his troops had encountered from the Pakistani forces the previous night.

The helicopter flew back to Tangail to get supplies for the soldiers on the battlefield.

Brigadier Singh led General Nagra, Brigadier Klair and Kader on to a bridge. Mirpur, the gate to Dhaka city, was only one-and-half miles from the bridge.

The two companies of joint forces marched towards Mirpur on foot from each side of the road. General Nagra, flanked by Brigadier Klair and Brigadier Singh and Kader, also followed the troops towards Mirpur.

They had hardly gone a half-mile before they saw a group of freedom fighters running towards them. It was none other than the famous commanders Sabur and Mustafa along with three other Mukti Bahini soldiers.

The commanders informed Kader that their forces had penetrated Mirpur last night through the arteries of the village

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paths. They came to ask the Indian Army not to fire on them. They further informed that the Mukti Bahini, under the leadership of commanders Sabur, Mustafa, Bokul and Mozammel, had already reached the left side of Mirpur Bridge.

General Nagra, Brigadier Klair, Brigadier Singh, and Kader were all pleasantly surprised with the news.

General Nagra ordered his forces to occupy and secure Mirpur Bridge immediately.

Ultimatum General Nagra and his associates arrived on the Hemayetpur Bridge at 8 AM. They were now only a few steps from Mirpur Bridge.

It was here that General Nagra pulled out a pen and a piece of paper from his pocket. He put the paper on the hood of his jeep and wrote the famous note to Pakistani general, Abdullah Niazi:

Dear Abdullah, I am at Mirpur Bridge. Send your representative. Yours, Major General Nagra.

This was a historic moment.

Three Indian soldiers and one Mukti Bahini jumped into a jeep with the note and drove towards the cantonment. They did not forget to hoist a white flag on the jeep.

General Niazi and General Nagra were already acquainted. They were both commissioned in the British Army and were classmates in Deradun Military Training Academy as young cadets. Their friendship further grew when General Nagra was the military attaché for India in Islamabad, Pakistan

Later, Nagra and Niazi were promoted through the ranks in the Indian and Pakistani armies, respectively. Once classmates, they were now opposing generals at war, fighting for their respective countries.

During the last few days, Pakistani forces were completely defeated at all fronts by the joint forces. Their fate was uncertain and humiliating. Many of them were captured, surrendered, or killed in battle. Those who survived fled to Dhaka. Their last hope was fighting back from Dhaka city.

However, by now, the joint forces had surrounded Dhaka from all sides. Dhaka was a city inhabited by millions of people. If Pakistani forces decided to fight the joint forces in Dhaka, then millions of civilians would die.

To avoid a blood bath, General Manekshaw, Chief of Staff of the Indian Army spent the previous two days broadcasting his message to General Niazi over the radio and by dropping leaflets in Urdu asking the Pakistani Army to surrender. He assured the Pakistani Army of their safety in accordance with the Geneva Convention should they surrender.

However, General Nagra did not know how General Niazi would respond. Even General Nagra was surprised to find himself so close to Dhaka, so soon, and so easily.

Therefore, he took the initiative and sent the personal note. He did not want to miss the opportunity of letting his old friend, Abdullah, know of his presence at Mirpur. Moreover, if General Niazi was going to surrender, General Nagra wanted to give him the chance to surrender to an old friend.

Surrender of General Niazi and the Final Victory Meanwhile, as General Niazi learned that the joint forces had arrived at Mirpur Bridge, he consulted his commanders at his headquarters at Dhaka cantonment and his superiors in West Pakistan regarding his next move.

General Niazi’s last hope was the American Naval 7th Fleet. There was news that the American Naval 7th Fleet was cruising towards the Bay of Bengal to intervene in the war in favor of Pakistan.

This was exciting news for General Niazi. However, it was disturbing news for us. General Niazi expected the American fleet to rescue him and his staff from Dhaka.

Though the U.S. House of Representatives, the Senate, intellectuals, media, and the general public supported Bangladesh’s liberation war and condemned the genocide of the Bengali people by Pakistani occupation forces, President Richard M. Nixon and his Secretary of State Henry Kissinger supported the Pakistani military junta.

It was believed that, in addition to the Soviet-U.S. cold war rivalry, Nixon and Kissinger supported Pakistan for personal

interests. They yearned to be national heroes by establishing diplomatic relations with communist China through the “good” office of General Yahya Khan, the leader of the Pakistani military junta.

Nixon and Kissinger thought that they needed to oppose the creation of an independent Bangladesh to gain the favor of General Yahya Khan, even though it was against everything that America stood for.

Despite the atrocities committed against Native Americans, The United States was a nation that historically stood against genocide. It was a nation that bravely supported the democratic will of the people. But sadly, for this brief moment in history, American values were compromised by the personal ambitions of two self-serving “statesmen.”

With this in mind, it was no surprise why General Niazi became so optimistic about the news of the 7th Fleet’s arrival. However, his optimism was short lived. Unfortunately, for Niazi, the Soviet Union threatened to respond to the U.S. naval movement by deploying their own naval fleet to the Bay of Bengal.

General Niazi’s hopes were crushed when news came that the American Naval 7th Fleet had diverted its course away from the Bay of Bengal.

General Niazi verified his last stance and asked his commanders if they had any surprises left up their sleeves. The commanders looked around at each other, but each face was blanker than the next.

General Niazi got the message. He had the opportunity to make the most important decision of his career, if not, of his life. His decision would impact the lives of the thousands of his troops and the millions of people in Dhaka. His decision would have a historic impact on his country as well as on the entire subcontinent.

General Niazi ordered the safe passage of General Nagra’s messengers to his cantonment.

At nine in the morning, the messengers of the joint forces arrived at General Niazi’s headquarters accompanied by a Pakistani Army escort. They handed over General Nagra’s note to General Niazi.

Thirty minutes later, a jeep was seen approaching the joint force’s position from Mirpur Bridge. But, there was no white flag.

The soldiers of the Indian Army at first defense could not ascertain the jeep’s identity from such distance. They were already

on highest alert due to the presence of their senior commanders just behind them.

The soldiers would not take any risks preserving the safety of General Nagra, Brigadier Klair, and Brigadier Singh. However, they had no time to think. Having to assume the approaching vehicle was an enemy jeep, the soldiers fired on it with machine guns.

This turned out to be a tragic blunder. In the haste of trying to deliver the news to their commanders, the messengers failed to notice that their high-speed driving blew the white flag off of their jeep.

General Nagra and his colleagues rushed to the location and realized the gaffe. Three messengers were killed and one was wounded. The wounded soldier told General Nagra that General Niazi would surrender and a Pakistani General was on the way to meet him.

This joyous news was tainted with mixed feelings. Arrangements were made to send the three fallen soldiers with the wounded one to Mirjapur Hospital by Indian helicopter.

Minutes later, a Mercedes-Benz sedan and a jeep hoisting a white flag arrived at the location. The passengers of the two vehicles came out. One of them saluted General Nagra and introduced himself as General Jamshed of the Pakistani Army. General Jamshed informed General Nagra that General Niazi would surrender. He further added that General Niazi had invited General Nagra to meet him at his office to discuss and arrange the modalities of the surrendering ceremony. General Nagra wasted no time and said, “Let’s go!”

They got into General Jamshed’s Mercedes. General Jamshed sat in the front passenger-seat next to the driver. General Nagra, Brigadier Klair, Brigadier Sing, and Kader sat in the backseat of the car.

General Nagra wanted to talk to General Niazi. The General tried several times to call, but his calls did not get through.

The Mercedes was moving quickly towards the Dhaka cantonment.

Just at five minutes past ten, the Mercedes arrived at General Niazi’s headquarters. General Jamshed escorted his guests to General Niazi’s office and asked them to take their seats. He immediately left the office to fetch General Niazi.

General Nagra arrived at the enemy headquarters with only a few soldiers, but was armed with a tremendous sense of pride.

General Nagra and his colleagues wondered what would happen next. Just an hour ago, such a situation would have been unimaginable. Nonetheless, they now sat in the office of the chief commander of the Pakistani military.

It was ten minutes past ten on the morning of December 16th 1971. General Niazi entered his office. He stood at attention and saluted General Nagra. With formalities aside, they two old friends embraced each other.

At first, General Nagra thanked General Niazi for his decision to surrender and avoid a potential blood bath. They engaged in pleasantries and inquired about each other’s families.

Then, General Nagra introduced Brigadier Klair, Brigadier Singh, and Kader to General Niazi. While introducing Kader, General Nagra mentioned that Kader Siddiqui was the sole representative of the Mukti Bahini at the meeting.

As soon as Kader’s name was pronounced, General Niazi stood up and saluted Kader and extended his arm to shake Kader’s hand.

This moment weighed heavily in Kader’s mind. He was perplexed. He saw a monster standing in front of him who terrorized the Bengali nation. General Niazi’s hand was sullen with the blood of the people of Bangladesh.

His forces were responsible for killing millions of Bengalis and raping thousands of women. How could he shake the hand of such a war criminal?

General Nagra realized Kader’s dilemma. He broke the lull and said, “Kader, you have won. General Niazi has accepted his defeat. Please shake hands.”

Kader regained his composure and reluctantly acceded to General Nagra’s request.

General Niazi and General Nagra discussed the protocol and logistics of the surrendering ceremony. It was decided that General Aurora, the Chief of the Eastern Command of the joint forces and Group Captain A.K. Khandker, the Deputy Chief of Staff of Bangladesh Armed Forces would arrive in Dhaka at four-thirty that evening to accept Niazi’s surrender. The ceremony would take place at the Race Course (now Suhrawardy Park) in the presence of the national and international media.

This moment marked the virtual fall of Dhaka and the demise of East Pakistan. Dhaka was no longer a city of Pakistan. It had become liberated as the capital of Bangladesh.

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No one expected Dhaka to fall so abruptly. The city fell like a heart attack victim. It was as if the soul had passed away, while the body was still intact. We would avoid experiencing Germany’s fate during the fall of the Berlin in 1945. Dhaka was a vessel now ready to reclaim the spirit of Bangladesh.

After meeting with General Niazi, Kader left for Tangail.

Meanwhile, Shaheed and I had been in the WAPDA bungalow all morning. We had been coordinating the various activities of the Mukti Bahini.

Around ten that morning, we received information that Kader had arrived near Mirpur. We listened to Indian radio reports that stated that Pakistani forces were expected to surrender today. However, we had no clue as to when and how they would go about doing so. Moreover, we did not rule out the possibility of a final battle over Dhaka.

In the meantime, Latif Siddiqui and Basit Siddiqui joined us. We were discussing the role and responsibility of the Tangail Mukti Bahini should Pakistani forces fight to defend Dhaka and inflict damage to the city and its people.

While amidst this brainstorming session, we received a telephone call from Kader. He broke the greatest of news! Dhaka was free! Bangladesh was independent! He added that General Niazi surrendered to Indian commander, General Nagra and himself just moments ago.

Kader further told us that he was going to Dhaka with two thousand Mukti Bahini from our camp at Tangail Cadet College to participate in the formal surrender ceremony that would take place at the Suhrawardy Park that evening.

He asked us to stay in Tangail and oversee the law and order of the district. He further asked us to stand by in case of emergency.

We had been anxiously awaiting this news for the previous nine months. Our office was filled with joy and excitement.

We spread the news of victory all over Tangail and to all of our Mukti Bahini camps by radio and telephone. People flooded the streets shouting victory slogans, “Joy Bangla – Victory to Bangladesh!”

Tangail town erupted in celebration. People from all walks of life came to the streets, playing drums and dancing. Thousands of people gathered in front of our office and congratulated us. Latif Siddiqui and Basit Siddiqui addressed the crowd.

I felt humbled and gratified with the fact that I was intimately involved with a war strategy that allowed two brigades of the Indian Army and the Tangail Mukti Bahini to enter Dhaka. Moreover, I was a trusted comrade of Mukti Bahini Commander, Kader Siddiqui to whom Pakistani General Niazi surrendered. What a feeling!

With great joy and pride, we all shouted from the tops of our lungs, “Joy Bangla!”

Victory Strategy The fall of the Pakistani military was more than just a matter of luck. Our victory came behind the efforts of careful planning and the precise execution of war strategies.

Firstly, Indian high command used a diversion to mislead the enemy. Joint forces were deployed with tanks and heavy artillery to the east of Dhaka in the Comilla sector and far west of Dhaka in the Jessore sector. Several divisions of the joint forces were positioned in these sectors.

Meanwhile, only two infantry brigades of brigadiers Klair and Singh were deployed in the northern sector in Jamalpur and Mymensingh. They had neither tank, nor artillery support.

This imbalanced deployment was done deliberately to convince the enemy that joint forces would enter Dhaka city from the Comilla sector in the east, which was only about fifty miles from Dhaka city, compared to the one hundred-plus miles from the northern sector.

Secondly, the Indian Army partnered with the Tangail Mukti Bahini to reinforce their war strategy. We maintained the liberation of a long strip of land, which spanned about eighty miles. The liberated strip ranged from an area just thirty miles north of Dhaka to Jamalpur near the northern border. The Indian Army took advantage of our achievement by landing paratroopers in Tangail.

Lastly, to further deceive the enemy, Z-Force, a special Mukti Bahini brigade lead by Col. Ziaur Rahman, was transferred from the northern sector to Sylhet in the eastern sector, where two other special Mukti Bahini brigades were already stationed; S-Force lead by Col. Shafiullah and K-Force lead by Col. Khaled Mosharraf.

Only Col. Taher and his Mukti Bahini forces were left in the northern sector to attack the fortified garrison of the enemy at the Kamalpur Border Outpost.

By maneuvering in this manner, the joint forces high command

was successful in manipulating the enemy into believing that the northern sector would not be a threat to Pakistani forces. Pakistani intelligence was lead to believe that the main onslaught on Dhaka city would come from the eastern sector.

Pakistani high command fell into this trap. They transferred their main fighting forces from Jamalpur and Mymensingh garrisons to Bhairab in the eastern sector.

This move weakened the enemy defense in the northern sector and opened a window of opportunity for the joint forces to gain easy access to Dhaka.

While Pakistani forces were busy defending themselves from the joint forces’ onslaught in the eastern sector, the Indian Army, with the help of the Tangail Mukti Bahini, began their march towards Dhaka from the northern sector.

Meanwhile, on December uth, General Jacob, the Chief of Staff of the Indian Army, Eastern Sector, arranged a press conference in Calcutta. He declared to the national and international press that the night before, Indian paratroopers had landed surrounding Dhaka. He claimed that Dhaka was then, a besieged city, waiting to fall any day.

On the insistence of reporters, General Jacob reluctantly disclosed that a division of joint forces had the capital city surrounded.

However, in reality, the division he referred to was actually only single battalion of paratroopers who had landed, not in Dhaka, but rather some seventy miles to the north, in Tangail District.

This bluff distressed Pakistani command. It placed a tremendous amount of psychological pressure on General Niazi to surrender. The joint forces’ strategy worked just as planned.

The inclusion of the Tangail Mukti Bahini in the original war strategy to conquer Dhaka was an important historic event. One of the most significant components to this plan was the landing of a battalion of paratroopers in Tangail.

Arguably, I was the first person from Bangladesh to have had the privilege of knowing this vital secret plan.

I was lucky and honored to be associated with such a clever war strategy. It was also a great testament to Kader, as well as, to the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

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Chapter 10

Arms Surrender

Lt. General Aurora in Tangail After the 16th of December, Tangail received special attention from the nation and the world. It became a Mecca for national and international press from television, radio, and print. The media was intrigued by the success of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. Every day I entertained hundreds of such visitors as the Tangail Mukti Bahini’s media liaison.

But, unbeknownst to us we would receive a new kind of visitor as well – the senior generals of the Indian Army. During the war, we had established personal contact with Major General Nagra and brigadiers Klair and Sanat Singh who had already visited Tangail several times. However, the visit of the senior Indian Army generals was a matter of serious concern, as well as political significance. Their visit raised many questions and spawned many more rumors.

After the fall of Dhaka on December 16, most of the seventeen thousand freedom fighters of the Tangail Mukti Bahini were stationed in and around Tangail town. Instead of sitting idle, we had scheduled regular training and exercise for the freedom fighters. They were also given military uniforms even though there was no formal dress code during the war. By the time the senior Indian Army generals arrived, the Mukti Bahini looked like a division of well-trained and disciplined soldiers.

The presence of the uniformed soldiers coupled with the influx of foreign visitors made Tangail look as if it were a state within state. The Tangail Mukti Bahini administration exuded authority as if it were an autonomous entity outside the government. This

appearance of Tangail had created some concern in certain quarters within the newly formed Bangladesh government, and amongst the leadership of the Indian Army.

Though during the war, the Tangail Mukti Bahini was politically loyal to Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed, we were not under the direct command of the Bangladesh Army. Therefore, there was concern as to whether we would continue our loyality to the government of Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed in Bangladesh’s post-war era. Furthermore, the future relationship between the Tangail Mukti Bahini and the Bangladesh Army was still unknown.

Four senior Indian generals independantly visited Tangail to gain firsthand knowledge of the situation in Tangail following December 16th. Each of the four generals had unique credentials.

One of them was Major General Ovan. He was the senior intelligence officer for the Indian Army. He was in charge of developing and guiding the Mujib Bahini. The Mujib Bahini was a special freedom fighter group insituted to protect the leadership of Bangabandhu Sheik Mujibur Rahman, during and after the war.

The second general was Major General Sarkar. He was a Bengali general who was likely in Tangail to understand the psyche of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

The third General who visited Tangail was Lt. General Jacob. He was Chief-of-Staff of the Indian Army’s Eastern Command.

In the beginning of the war, Field Marshall Sam Manekshaw, the chief of the Indian armed forces developed a strategy for the Bangladesh war. The main objective of the strategy was to occupy two regions of Bangladesh: Chittagong and Khulna. However, Lt. General Jacob knew that without occupying the capital, it would be difficult to win the war. He did not see how his commanding officer’s plan would lead to the occupation of Dhaka. Therefore, he ignored Field Marshall Manekshaw’s directives and designed a new strategy to capture Dhaka. Lt. General Jacob’s decision to disobey his commanding officer’s order was an unprecidented move in military history.

Lt. General Jacob became the architect behind the “war of movement”, a strategy which engaged Pakistani forces in the difficult and swampy terrain of Bangladesh. This went against Field Marshall Manekshaw’s plan to implement a “brief incursion into Bangladesh” to capture Chittagong and Khulna. Fortunately, Lt. General Jacob’s strategy paid off quickly. Indian forces, with the help

of the Tangail Mukti Bahini, were able to capture Dhaka.

With his visit, Lt. General Jacob wanted to make sure that the Tangail Mukti Bahini was not a threat to Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed’s nascent government. Lt. General Jacob was desperate to discover our motives to remain as a fighting force beyond the Independence of Bangladesh.

The last general to visit Tangail was Lt. General Jagjit Singh Aurora, General Officer Commander-in-Chief of the Indian and Bangladesh forces in the Eastern Theatre. He arrived in Tangail on December 22, 1971.

By then, Lt. General Aurora had become a household name in Bangladesh as well as in India and Pakistan. His acceptance of Lt. General Niazi’s surrender had made him a war hero overnight.

We were only given two hours notice that he would be visiting Tangail. Kader, Shaheed, and I received him at the heliport of the Tangail circuit house. Lt. General Aurora was accompanied by Major General B. F. Gonzales and Brigadier Sanat Singh.

It was my second meeting with Lt. General Aurora. We first met in Tura, India on November 7th, 1971 at the army headquarters of Major General Gill. Before ending our first meeting, Lt. General Aurora said that he would meet me in liberated Tangail town. With his arrival he had kept his promise. However, he was not here to celebrate. He came to Tangail with an important hidden agenda.

In the morning of December of 22nd, Lt. General Aurora flew from Calcutta to Dhaka to discuss the situation in Tangail with his senior commanders. Unfortuantely, his commanders were divided. They gave him conflicting advice. He had no choice, but to see what was happening in Tangail for himself. After the meeting, he made his way to Tangail.

It was just before noon that Lt. General Aurora’s helicopter touched ground. We stood in line along with several Indian Army officers to welcome him. He and his companions alighted from the helicopter. After a brief exchange of greetings with others, Lt. General Aurora looked at me and said, “How are you Nurandhar? See, I kept my promise, I am in Tangail.”

I smiled and thanked him.

General Aurora could not pronounce my name correctly. It had happened even during our previous meeting in Tura. Possibly, he had inadvertantly combined my first name, Nuran with that of D. P. Dhar, an advisor to Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Dhar had

become a famous wartime name as Mr. Dhar was in charge of maintaining liaison with the Bangladesh government.

We led Lt. General Aurora to the Bindubashini School play ground where we had arranged his reception. Thousands of people had already assembled there within hours to greet the famous war hero.

A uniformed squad of Mukti Bahini greeted Lt. General Aurora with an honor guard. After inspecting the parade, he walked on to the stage and asked Kader, “Are these soldiers members of the Bengal regiment?” The Bengal regiments were one of the smartest and toughest regiments in the Bangladesh Army.

Kader replied, “Negative. They are members of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.”

In his welcoming address Kader thanked Lt. General Aurora for his role in the Bangladesh liberation war and specially in helping the Tangail Mukti Bahini. In return, Lt. General Aurora praised Kader’s bravery and the role of the Tangail Mukti Bahini in liberating Dhaka.

I was the liaison to these generals during their visits in Tangail. As the chief-of-intelligence for the Tangail Mukti Bahini, my responsibility was also to listen to what the generals said, observe their body language, and probe them to find out the purpose of their visit to Tangail.

I noticed that during each of the generals’ customary inspection of the parade after the guard of honor, the generals shared one common practice. They each randomly stopped one of the honor guard soldiers and asked them what they did before joining the Mukti Bahini. If the soldier answered that he was in the army, the generals would immediately retort, “What are you doing here now? You should go back to the army.” If the soldier said that he was in college, the generals would immediately ask the soldier to return to his studies.

I asked Brigadier Sanat Singh to share with me the hidden agenda behind these visits. He was hesitant, but informed me that Kader had many enemies in the Bangladesh government. Kader’s enemies were hatching conspiracies in order to neutralize Kader’s increasing political clout as a war legend. The Indian generals were on a mission to find out the Tangail Mukti Bahini’s strength and conviction should the Indian Army be asked to neutralize Kader and his soldiers. From Brigadier Singh’s comments and my own

observations, I could tell that the Indian Army preferred that the Tangail Mukti Bahini simply disintegrate and vanish.

We had finally figured out why the Indian generals were visiting Tangail. They wanted us to surrender our arms. If we would not surrender, the Indian Army would possibly be asked to take military action.

Brigadier Sanat Singh informed me that he had strongly recommended his superiors to refrain from any military action against us as it might lead to civil war and tarnish the success of our mutual victory

Kader, Shaheed, and I had several meetings to formulate our post-war strategy and response to Lt. General Aurora. We decided that we would not surrender our arms until Bangabandhu was released from his Pakistani prison cell and was allowed to take charge of the Bangladesh government. We also decided that we would continue to support Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed and remain on stand by to protect against any threat to his government.

We knew that we were responsible for the future of each member of the Tangail Mukti Bahini. We could not just ask them to surrender their arms and go home. Therefore, we further decided that there must be an acceptable rehabilitation plan for the Mukti Bahini before we could agree to surrender ours arms. Shaheed and I drafted this plan for the rehabilitation of our comrades.

We conveyed our decisions to General Aurora. He was pleasantly surprised to hear of our loyalty to Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed. He appreciated the rationale for not surrendering our arms until Bangabandhu returned to Bangladesh. Moreover, he was relieved to know that he would not be asked to take military action against the Tangail Mukti Bahini whom Indian forces had fought side-by-side with.

General Aurora was happy to know our plan and left for Dhaka with great satisfaction.

Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in Tangail On the fateful night of March 25th, 1971 Bangabandhu was arrested from his residence in Dhanmondi, Dhaka, by Pakistani Army commandos and was taken to West Pakistan.

During the war, the Pakistani military junta tried him in a military court and sentenced him to death for alleged treason.

However, world leaders including Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minster of India, and Leonid Brezhnev, Secretary General of the communist Party of the Soviet Union pressured Pakistan to stop the execution of Bangabandhu.

Prime Minister Indira Gandhi even went on a world tour visiting the major capitals of the world in an effort to advocate the release of Bangabandhu, the elected leader of Bangladesh.

Though she found support amongst most leaders of the free world, she received a cold shoulder from the White House. In fact, the meeting between Prime Minister Gandhi and President Nixon went so poorly that Henry Kissinger later admitted that Nixon’s post-meeting remarks regarding the Indian Prime Minister were not even printable.

However, on December 16th Pakistani forces surrendered in Dhaka, Bangladesh had finally been liberated. Despite this, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the father of the nation, was still a prisoner in West Pakistan.

Without the release of Bangabandhu, the liberation of Bangladesh was incomplete. Almost three weeks had passed after the fall of Dhaka, but still there was no news on Bangabandhu’s release. Nonetheless, we remained hopeful.

In those days, Kader, Shaheed, and I joined others every evening in our headquarters at Tangail. We reviewed and coordinated the Mukti Bahini’s activities as well as maintained the law and order of Tangail District.

On the evening of January 7th, while working in our office, we suddenly heard the sound of tremendous gunfire throughout Tangail town. We were surprised by this unexpected incident. We immediately arranged an investigation of the episode.

We found that some of the Mukti Bahini had heard rumors that Bangabandhu had finally been released from prison. In celebration of Bangabandhu’s release, they began firing their guns into the air.

However, the firing went on for several minutes. Kader put me in charge of the office. Kader and Shaheed rushed off to the Mukti Bahini camps. They visited each camp and told the freedom fighters that the news of Bangabandhu’s release was premature. The firing stopped.

At noon, January 8th, Indian Radio and the BBC both reported that Bangabandhu had been finally released from a Pakistani prison. Once again the sound of gunfire echoed from the Mukti

Bahini camps. However, this time they had cause to celebrate. All of Tangail town was a stage for jubilation.

After being released from a Pakistani prison, Bangabandhu took a special flight from Pakistan to London, a neutral ground for all parties involved. He would arrive in Dhaka on January 10th via New Delhi, India.

We held an emergency meeting to discuss Bangabandhu’s homecoming reception. We debated whether we should go to Dhaka to welcome Bangabandhu or meet him at his residence the following day.

We decided not to go to the airport directly. There would be thousands of people at the airport to welcome Bangabandhu. We opted to avoid the crowd. We would wait to greet Bangabandhu at his home.

However, Shaheed and I were assigned to go to Dhaka right away to observe the homecoming reception of Bangabandhu.

Within a few hours we were in Dhaka. So much had changed in the last nine months. Bangabandhu was arrested from this city and taken away to West Pakistan as a prisoner. And now, he had finally returned to the Dhaka as the president of an independent Bangladesh!

Dhaka was a spectacular scene. Thousands of people came to the streets to welcome their beloved leader. Bangabandhu rode in an open jeep and waved to the crowds. He was accompanied by actingpresident Syed Nazrul Islam, Prime Minister Tajuddin Ahmed, and other leaders.

Meanwhile, thousands of people were waiting for Bangabandhu at Suhrawardy Park. They were eager just to see him, let alone, to hear him speak.

It took more than an hour just to travel the one-mile between the airport and the public meeting.

When Bangabandhu arrived on the stage, the sea of people in the park roared in applause and welcomed him.

Bangabandhu looked tired. Prison had taken its toll. However, it was clear that he was happy to return to his independent Bangladesh. He thanked the people and especially the Mukti Bahini for carrying out his order and fighting the Pakistani occupation forces. He expressed his deepest condolence and respect for the martyrs and their families.

Just nine months earlier, on March 7th, this was the site where

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Bangabandhu proclaimed our fight for independence. It was quite fitting to see him here again celebrating our victory.

The next day, on January uth, Kader led about one hundred Tangail Mukti Bahinis to Bangabandhu’s residence at Road 19, Dhanmondi Residential Area. Kader and a few of us entered Bangabandhu’s house and found him talking to some other people.

As soon as Bangabandhu looked at us, Kader stood in attention and saluted him in the traditional military style. Kader then immediately bent down and touched his feet to show his deep respect.

Bangabandhu pulled Kader up and embraced him. Then Kader crowned Bangabandhu by laying a garland around his neck.

Bangabandhu looked around at all of us who were present and said, “This is my Kader, he fought against the occupation forces.”

He pointed us out to the others and added that we were Kader’s co-fighters. Then he embraced each of us one by one.

Bangabandhu asked us, “How did you defeat the monstrous Pakistani forces?”

He then added, “You are the real heroes of Bangladesh. You responded to my call to fight the enemy. Now you have to build this country with me”.

Bangabandhu personally knew only two of us before the war: Kader and Latif. However, on that day Bangabandhu behaved as if he knew each of us like his sons.

We were humbled and gratified by his affection.

Bangabandhu was confined in a solitary prison cell and was detached from the rest of the world. He was denied news of the events in Bangladesh over last nine months. It was not until he arrived in London that he was briefed by various sources of the politics of Bangladesh.

However, in just one day, Bangabandhu quickly understood that a power struggle was already hatching within his own party.

Despite this, Bangabandhu’s demeanor did not betray whether anyone had lobbied against Kader to him. Instead, Bangabandhu profusely praised Kader and our group for our valor. Bangabandhu escorted us to the gate to bid us farewell.

However, as we approached the gate, we saw a man with a bandage wrapped around his head. He sharply saluted Bangabandhu.

Bangabandhu introduced him to us as Col. Khaled Mosharraf,

the Mukti Bahini commander of the famous K-Brigade.

We had heard of this war hero who had suffered a head injury while fighting the enemy. We heard of his many episodes of bravery during the war. One particular story had to do with his ambush of a Pakistani military convoy during the very early stages of the war.

Col. Khaled Mosharaf was a Major in the Pakistani Army before the war. He was the commander of the Bengal Regiment.

He revolted against the Pakistani authority in Brahmanbaria where he was stationed at the time.

He led the Bengali soldiers under his command out of the Pakistani Cantonment and ambushed a Pakistani Army convoy going to Chittagong. Major Khaled’s troops destroyed the enemy convoy. The damage to the enemy was unprecedented.

In retaliation, the Pakistani authority sent a larger contingent under the command of a major general to capture Major Khaled, dead or alive.

Major Khaled Mosharraf fought ferociously against the enemy with limited resources. However, once again, the Pakistani Army suffered heavy damages at Major Khaled Mosharraf’s hands and the enemy was forced to retreat.

After the battle, Pakistani high command acknowledged the bravery of Major Khaled Mosharraf and admitted, “We have trained Major Khaled so well that even a Major General wasn’t enough to defeat him.”

We were honored to meet Col. Khaled Mosharraf and were glad to see him alive.

On January 15th, we came to Dhaka to meet Bangabandhu again. However, this time we came bearing a complaint.

We planned to publish a special bulletin about the Tangail Mukti Bahini in the Daily Bangladesh Observer. However, four student leaders known as the “Four Khalifa” had interfered and stopped the publication. The Tangail Freedom Fighters were outraged by this insult.

We had decided earlier that Kader would not say a word to Bangabandhu about the matter. So we explained the matter to Bangabandhu personally and submitted our protest to him. We pointed out that one member of the so-called “Four Khalifa” was acting out in jealousy.

Bangabandhu listened to us patiently and consoled us by saying that we should not get upset by these matters. He assured us that he

would do something about this.

We still wanted immediate justice. He took a pause and said, “T will arrange something so that one hundred bulletins will be published about you.”

Though we had not comprehended the significance of Bangabandhu’s promise, we were satisfied and returned to Tangail.

Later we understood what Bangabandhu meant by one hundred bulletins.”

Various quarters were already engaged in a power struggle for post-liberated Bangladesh. They attempted to feed information to Bangabandhu against one another.

Meanwhile, Kader had gained a national and international reputation for his outstanding heroism in the liberation war. He was catapulted to the ranks of legendary war heroes. Many of Kader’s political rivals were jealous of him. Some of them even began hatching various conspiracies against him.

One particular conspiracy that was brought to Bangabandhu’s attention surrounded the fact that Kader did not go to the airport to welcome Bangabandhu. Kader’s rivals alleged that he was not loyal to Bangabandhu.

A second rumor that had been deliberately spread was that Kader would not surrender his arms to the Bangladesh Government.

Still a fledgling government, Bangladesh was struggling to maintain law and order throughout the country. Just after the 16th of December, several groups of youth posing as freedom fighters took to the streets collecting the abandoned arms left behind by the fleeing Pakistani forces.

The criminal activities of these youths defamed the Mukti Bahini. People sarcastically referred to them as the 16th Division of the Mukti Bahini, pointing to the fact that they had become freedom fighters only after December 16th.

Aside from the misguided teens, several hardened criminals had also gotten their hands on some of these abandoned firearms and engaged in other criminal activities.

Bangabandhu was left with no choice. He decided to collect arms from all groups other than police, paramilitary, and military forces.

On January 16th, Bangabandhu invited Kader to his office to discuss the rampant problem.

Bangabandhu said, “The arms scattered all over the country are not safe. They are not conducive to maintaining law and order”.

Bangabandhu told Kader that he could put an end to this problem by setting an example and formally surrendering the arms of the Mukti Bahini. He added that by giving up the Mukti Bahini’s arms, the other groups would have no choice, but to do so as well.

Bangabandhu looked at Kader and asked, “So, do you think you can help me?”

Kader replied, “You are our leader. We are loyal to you. We will oblige to whatever you ask.”

Bangabandhu replied, “You have earned your reputation in the battlefield. Now you will do it once more off of the battlefield.”

Bangabandhu was a great politician. He managed to kill two birds with one stone.

By asking Kader to surrender his arms, Bangabandhu would silence Kader’s critics. Others would be forced to follow suit, and law and order would be restored.

It was decided that Bangabandhu would visit Tangail on January 24. We chose this date to formally surrender our arms to Bangabandhu. This would be Bangabandhu’s first trip outside of Dhaka since his return to independent Bangladesh.

The people and freedom fighters of Tangail were excited by the news that Bangabandhu would be visiting Tangail.

From January 16 to the 20, we had several meetings to finalize the logistics as well as the programs surrounding Bangabandhu’s reception.

Bangabandhu specifically asked us to allow the Awami League to organize the public meeting in Tangail. He told us that it would look odd if he did not attend a public meeting under the banner of his own party during his first trip outside of the capital. Otherwise, the dedicated leaders and workers of the Awami League, the party that lead the country to independence, would be disenchanted.

January 23rd was a hectic day. We worked until midnight to finalize every detail of the following day’s program. Every facet was scrutinized. Every item was double-checked. This was no small challenge for the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

On the night of January 23, we sat down with Mr. Abdul Mannan, the president of the Tangail Awami League to discuss who would preside over the next day’s public meeting. Unfortunately, the matter was disputed all through the night. The meeting ended without any agreement.

After the meeting, Kader met with us to discuss the matter and to

find a solution to the problem. It was two in the morning before any of us got to bed. These last two days were as busy as any during the war.

On January 24th, we woke up very early and prepared to receive Bangabandhu in Tangail.

Due to the hectic activities of the previous couple of days, I had no time to shave and had grown a long beard. However, today we would receive the father of our nation. I had to look presentable. I quickly shaved and dressed up before leaving to receive Bangabandhu.

Kader and Shaheed went out at seven that morning towards Tangail-Dhaka Road. They would welcome Bangabandhu at the border of the Tangail District

Colorful gates were erected at every bus stop on Tangail-Dhaka Road to greet Bangabandhu. Arrangements were also made for the public to hail Bangabandhu from each side of the road.

Almost each day, since the 16th of December, hundreds of media people, from both the national and international press, came to Tangail to cover the story of Kader and the Tangail Mukti Bahini. I was in charge of maintaining a liaison with them on behalf of the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

That day Kader and Shaheed would participate in the formal program with Bangabandhu. So I was assigned again to coordinate with the media.

In the meantime, a mob of journalists from both print and electronic media of the national and international press had already flooded Tangail. They mobbed the streets of Tangail town in anticipation as to whether Bangabandhu would be able to successfully broker the surrender of arms from the Mukti Bahini.

I stood by Shibnath High School located at the entrance of Tangail town. There we built a stage at the high school playground to present Bangabandhu with an honor guard salute preformed by uniformed and well-disciplined Mukti Bahini guards.

We received information that Kader, Shaheed, and the Awami League leaders had received Bangabandhu and his entourage at the Tangail District border. They were on their way to Tangail town.

People from all walks of life gathered on both sides of the road and greeted Bangabandhu chanting slogans, “Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu.”

Bangabandhu addressed a few impromptu roadside public

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meetings. It took almost two and a half hours for Bangabandhu to cross about thirty miles.

Finally, at eleven-thirty, we saw Bangabandhu’s entourage approach our location. In the front, a convoy of forty Mukti Bahini motorcycles escorted Bangabandhu. Right behind them was Bangabandhu, standing in an open Toyota jeep flanked by Kader and Shaheed at each side of the jeep.

It was an extravagant scene. Bangabandhu wore his usual attire, a white linen Punjabi and pajama adorned with his trademark Mujib-coat and pipe.

Kader and Shaheed were dressed in their formal military uniforms and stood at each side of Bangabandhu. A military-style motorcycle escort led them. There was a motorcade of about fifty cars behind Bangabandhu’s jeep.

I embraced this extraordinary panoramic view from the stage at Shibnath High School. The scene was truly fitting of the honorable reception deserved by Bangabandhu on his first official visit as Prime Minister.

Kader and Shaheed escorted Bangabandhu directly to the stage. Commander Habib led the company of uniformed Mukti Bahini in an honor guard salute to Bangabandhu as another group of Mukti Bahini played the national anthem “Amar Shonar Bangla. Ami Tomay Bhalobashi… – Golden Bengal of mine, my love is for thee…

Commander Habib requested Bangabandhu to inspect the guards. After inspecting the guards, Bangabandhu came back to the stage and made a short speech to the guards.

Kader and Shaheed remained standing on stage behind Bangabandhu during the ceremony. I stood on the stage next to Shaheed recording Bangabandhu’s speech with tape recorder.

Arms Surrender The next event on Bangabandhu’s agenda was the formal surrender of arms at Bindubashini High School playground.

After the honor guard ceremony, Bangabandhu was taken to the venue. Three thousand Freedom Fighters were standing by with their arms ready to be surrendered. We had also arranged the surrender of an additional several thousand arms of various kinds in two rows on the ground in front of the stage.

Bangabandhu was led directly to the stage. As soon as

Bangabandhu took the stage with Kader and Shaheed at each side, Commander Hakim called the freedom fighters to attention and rendered an arms salute to Bangabandhu.

We decided that as a symbolic gesture, Kader would be the first to surrender his personal Sten gun to Bangabandhu. Accordingly, Commander Hakim handed over the Sten gun to Kader. This was the gun, which Kader carried with him all throughout the nine months of war.

In typical military style, Kader held the gun with two hands, knelt down and put it in front of Bangabandhu’s feet. Three thousand Mukti Bahini followed Kader and laid down their arms on the ground in front of them.

It was a solemn occasion. The once roaring crowd came to a hushed pin-drop silence. All that could be heard were camera shutter clicks from the several hundred photographers.

Bangabandhu bent down and accepted Kader’s Sten gun and handed it over to Shaheed and then embraced Kader.

It was a very emotional moment. Every eye was filled with tears.

Bangabandhu was led to inspect the arms. He slowly walked around the rows of guns. Hundreds of journalist followed Bangabandhu.

After the arms inspection, Bangabandhu returned to the stage. Kader came to the microphone and made a brief speech. He said in a somber voice, “Today we are proud. We had raised our arms against the enemy in response to the call of our great leader – Bangabandhu, and today by his edict, we have surrendered our arms to him.”

As Kader spoke, Bangabandhu could be seen wiping his eyes with his handkerchief.

Next, Bangabandhu was asked to address the gathering. Bangabandhu started his speech in his soaking voice.

I have seen him speaking in many public meetings. He had a thunderous voice. He roared like lion to protest against the Pakistani Military Junta. However, on this day he was a different person. Tears rolled over his checks. His voice was drenched with emotion and his words quivered with each breath.

It was an extraordinary scene. There he was – Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the father of our nation. He was labeled as the greatest Bengali born in a thousand years, the lion-hearted leader who did not blink in the face of death. He spent more than thirteen years of the prime of his life in a Pakistani jail.

And now, he stood before us, wiping his eyes with his teardampened handkerchief. He was a proud father given the opportunity to acknowledge the accomplishments of his sons.

Those of us standing behind him could not hold back our tears. Kader and Shaheed stood at attention while I held a heavy tape recorder in my hand, making it difficult for the three of us to wipe the flow of tears from our eyes. All we could do was look down and let our tears drain through the cracks of the stage floor.

In his speech, Bangabandhu again thanked the Mukti Bahini for liberating the country. He said, “I could not give you arms, but I still asked you to resist the enemy. So you snatched the arms from the enemy and fought back in historical fashion. I am proud of you.”

He then added, “Today you have made history once again by surrendering your arms to me. You have created an example for others to follow. I salute you for responding to my order.”

After the arms surrendering ceremony, Bangabandhu was escorted to the police parade grounds. Young boys and girls saluted him. Then he laid the foundation for a monument honoring the country’s martyrs.

Wearing Bangabandhu’s Mujib-Coat From the police parade ground Bangabandhu was led to the WAPDA Bungalow to get some rest and shower.

During the war, almost every bridge along the Tangail-Dhaka Road was destroyed. Bangabandhu had to travel from Dhaka to Tangail along the grimy service roads near the bridges. To make matters worse, he was traveling in an uncovered jeep. His famous black vest, the Mujib-Coat turned from a vibrant black to an ashygrey mess soiled by the dust of the road.

While Bangabandhu was taking a shower, a freedom fighter was trying to clean his Mujib-Coat. However, the soldier had difficulty cleaning it. The vest was long and heavy. It was nearly impossible to clean by holding it in one hand and brushing it with the other. The soldier knew that the best way to get the coat clean was to get someone to wear it while he brushed the coat down with both hands.

But, who would dare to wear Bangabandhu’s vest? No one! To discourage others even further, Kader was standing right there.

Suddenly Kader looked up at me and said, “You put it on. The jacket has to get cleaned. There is nothing wrong with putting on

the vest for cleaning purposes”.

Before I realized what Kader had said, the Mujib-Coat was around my shoulders.

Kader recounted the story in his memoirs Shadhinata 71:

Before this incident, Nuran Nabi looked like a young man with normal stature. He was very successful as the chief of the Intelligence Department for the Mukti Bahini. However, it was not until we put Bangabandhu’s jacket on him that we realized how small and short in stature Nuran Nabi was. Bangabandhu’s waistlength vest came down below Nuran Nabi’s knees. We could easily fit another Nuran Nabi within this vest. What a memorable and humorous scene as Nuran Nabi tried to gauge how loose and slack the Mujib-Coat was on him.

After his shower, Bangabandhu got dressed and left for the Tangail Circuit House for lunch. Before, stepping out, we took a group photograph with Bangabandhu.

Recognition by the Soviet Union Bangabandhu came down to the lobby of the WAPDA Bungalow. Just as he was about to get into his car, Andre Popov, the Consul General of the Soviet Union in Dhaka arrived.

He greeted Bangabandhu and said, “Your Excellency, Mr. Prime Minister, my government has recognized the People’s Republic of Bangladesh. I have come here to deliver this good news personally to

you.

Bangabandhu thanked Mr. Popov for the good news as well as for coming all the way up from Dhaka to Tangail. He invited Mr. Popov to join him for lunch.

This was the first recognition of the newly independent Bangladesh by one of the world’s super powers.

Though the Soviet Union was a staunch supporter of the Bangladesh liberation war and provided strong political and material support during the war, the formal recognition came almost five weeks after the fall of Dhaka.

On the other hand, two other super-powers, the United States and China supported Pakistan and opposed our liberation war. Despite the insistence of world leaders and international organizations like the UNO, which had criticized the Pakistani military junta, the United States and China refused to ask the

Pakistan military government to put an end to the genocide in Bangladesh.

President Nixon and Secretary of State Kissinger had both personally taken sides with the Pakistani military junta from the beginning of the conflict.

On March 25th at midnight, Pakistani forces massacred more than ten thousand innocent people including students, teachers, and politicians in Dhaka city alone.

The following day, perturbed by the firsthand account of this genocide, Mr. Archer Blood, the Consul General of the American Consulate in Dhaka sent a confidential telegram to the State Department under the subject heading, “Selective Genocide.”

He said in the telegram, “Here in Dhaka we are mute and horrified witness to a reign of terror by the Pakistani military.”

He continued, “Moreover, with the support of the Paksistani] military, non-Bengali Muslims are systematically attacking poor people’s quarters and murdering Bengalis and Hindus.” (U.S. Consulate [Dacca] Cable, Selective genocide, March 27, 1971)

Nixon and Kissinger ignored the telegram and remained silent regarding the genocide in Bangladesh.

Distressed by the continued acts of genocide by the Pakistani military, Mr. Blood and his colleagues in the US Consulate in Dhaka sent another telegram to the State Department on April 6, 1971.

The second telegram was known as the “Blood Telegram.” It was seen as one of the most strongly worded dissent channel messages ever written by a foreign services officer to the State Department. Twenty-nine Americans had signed it. This was unprecedented. The telegram stated:

Our government has failed to denounce the suppression of democracy. Our government has failed to denounce atrocities. Our government has failed to take forceful measures to protect its citizens while at the same time bending over backwards to placate the West Pakistan] dominated government and to lessen any deservedly negative international public relations impact against them. Our government has evidenced what many will consider moral bankrupt. But, we have chosen not to intervene, even morally, on the grounds that the Awami conflict, in which unfortunately the overworked term genocide is applicable, is purely an internal matter of a sovereign state. Private Americans have expressed disgust. We, as professional civil servants, express our dissent with current policy

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and fervently hope that our true and lasting interests here can be defined and our policies redirected. (U.S. Consulate (Dacca) Cable, Dissent from U.S. Policy Toward East Pakistan, April 6, 1971, Confidential, 5 pp. Includes Signatures from the Department of State. Source: RG 59, SN 70-73 Pol and Def. From: Pol Pak-U.S. To: Pol 17-1 Pak-U.S. Box 2535)

Although Mr. Blood was scheduled to stay in Dhaka for another eighteen months, President Nixon and Secretary of State Kissinger, infuriated by the “Blood Telegram” recalled Mr. Blood overnight from Dhaka. Their sole objective was to support West Pakistan in hopes of opening diplomatic channels to China and to counter the power of the Soviet Union. The “Blood Telegram” stood in the way of this agenda.

From their actions it seemed that the two American statesmen were more offended by the threat created by the “Blood Telegram” than by the genocide and rape of thousands of innocent civilians.

Nixon and Kissinger continued their anti-Bangladesh and ProPakistan policy until the very last days of war.

Just before the fall of Dhaka, the United States and China tried one last time to prevent the independence of Bangladesh. They attempted to pass a cease-fire resolution through the Security Council of the United Nations, to prevent the liberation of Bangladesh.

However, this anti-Bangladesh move was thwarted by several Soviet vetoes in the United Nations Security Council.

While we were apprehensive of American and Chinese attitudes regarding diplomatic recognition, as well as post-war help, we were very pleased to receive the timely diplomatic recognition from the Soviet Union.

Public Meeting After the lunch at the Tangail Circuit House, Bangabandhu arrived at the public meeting in Tangail Park at two-thirty in the afternoon. Mr. Mannan and the other Awami League leaders greeted Bangabandhu. The park was jam-packed. Thousands of people had arrived here from all over Tangail and the neighboring districts. This was Bangabandhu’s first public meeting outside of the capital. And of course, this was also the largest public meeting ever held in Tangail town.

Moments before the meeting, there was still no consensus on who would preside over the meeting. When suddenly, Bangabandhu turned to us and asked, “Who is presiding over today’s meeting, Mannan?”

Little did he know, but Bangabandhu just made the decision very easy for us.

Mr. Abdul Mannan, president of the Tangail Awami League stood up and presided over the meeting. After a welcome address by Kader, Shaheed and others, Bangabandhu was asked to make his speech.

As he stood in front of the microphone, the crowd greeted him with chants of “Joy Bangla” and “Joy Bangabandhu.”

Bangabandhu rose to the podium. But unlike earlier in the morning, Bangabandhu looked like his usual self. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was his newly cleaned clothes. Maybe it was the after-effects of a smooth arms-surrender ceremony. Or maybe it was the Soviet’s diplomatic recognition of Bangladesh. Whatever it was, it was clear that Sheik Mujibur Rahman had been rejuvenated by the morning’s events.

He spoke in his usual thunderous voice as he addressed the audience. He again thanked Kader, the Tangail Mukti Bahini, and the public for their sacrifices in liberating the country.

He mentioned that the enemy had destroyed the country. The economy had been ruined after years of Pakistani exploitation and the stresses of war. But, he reminded the audience that their work was not through. He asked that they continue to make additional sacrifices as they united as people to rebuild their country over the next three years.

He asked that the freedom fighters return to school and finish their education. He asked others to go back to their previous jobs, to join the army, police, or other agencies.

He asked us all to join him in rebuilding the nation.

However, Bangabandhu made a stern warning against corruption. He called for Bangladesh to become a secular nation with freedom for people of all faiths built on a solid foundation of democracy. He added that we now live in the People’s Republic of Bangladesh, and this country would be governed by the will of the people.

The public approved his call with a deafening applause and the echoing of patriotic slogans. The meeting ended on a festive note.

After the meeting, we bade farewell to Bangabandhu and his

entourage before they headed towards Dhaka.

We noticed that no other dignitaries, such as ministers, chiefs of the armed forces, or senior political leaders accompanied Bangabandhu to Tangail. Only his personal staff and his two young sons joined him.

However, this was no surprise to us. There were far-fetched rumors circulating that Bangabandhu might be taken hostage in Tangail. Conspiracy theorists proclaimed that the arms surrender ceremony was just a ploy to bring Bangabandhu to Tangail. It was alleged that some of Bangabandhu’s advisors suggested that he cancel his visit.

Nonetheless, Bangabandhu came to Tangail. He conquered our hearts. And he returned to Dhaka safely.

Once again he proved that he was not only a charismatic leader, but also a confident and courageous one, as well. He defied the concern and advice of his critics and hesitant advisors. He came to Tangail and received the surrender of arms from the Tangail Mukti Bahini. By doing so, he showed the whole country and the world that his freedom fighters were loyal to him. He was their leader.

We thanked all of the freedom fighters and volunteers for their selfless service in making the event such a great success. We worked late as we wound up the final activities of the day. Finally, we got to bed sometime after midnight.

President Abu Sayeed Choudhury in Tangail On January 12, Bangabandhu resigned as the president of the Bangladesh government and assumed the office of the prime minister of Bangladesh. According to the constitution, in a parliamentary form of government, the prime minister is the chief executive and head of government.

Abu Sayeed Choudhury, former Vice Chancellor of Dhaka University and the roving ambassador of the wartime Bangladesh government was appointed as the president of the republic. President Choudhury was a son of Tangail. The Tangail Mukti Bahini used his farmhouse in the Kalihati jungle as a camp. Coincidentally, from behind the scenes, Shaheed and I observed the process through which Abu Sayeed Choudhury became president of the republic.

Soon after taking office, President Choudhury visited Tangail. It

was an honor and privilege for us to receive the new president in Tangail. We accorded him with the same protocol as we did for other dignitaries. He was very pleased with the hospitality we provided to him. He thanked us for our role in the liberation war.

Exit from the Shining Stage January 25, 1971. I woke up late in the morning. Last night, the news of our arms surrender to Bangabandhu was broadcasted on Radio Bangladesh, Bangladesh Television, Indian radio Akashvani, the BBC, and the Voice of America.

By morning every national newspaper had published our story on the front page marking the success of the event in the headlines and adorning their pages with photos of the arms surrendering ceremony.

We finally understood the extent of Bangabandhu’s promise of publishing one hundred bulletins on the Tangail Mukti Bahini.

Yesterday’s event would be the last one formally organized by us as the Tangail Mukti Bahini. The curtain had finally dropped on our stage. From today, we would each go our separate ways.

I joined the liberation war on March 7th 1971 at the call of Bangabandhu. That chapter of my life had finally come to an end.

The liberation of a nation only comes once in a lifetime. I was lucky that I had the opportunity to participate in the brightest chapter of the history of my nation. I was humbled and honored.

As I packed my few personal belongings, I realized that I would forever be remembered as a freedom fighter of the Bangladesh Liberation War. I knew that my ancestors would remember me in this way as well. No one could ever take this honor from me.

Around noon, I prepared myself to say my final goodbyes to the hottest and brightest political stage in the nation.

As I rode a Dhaka-bound bus, I reminisced of the events of the last nine months and reflected on the previous day’s encounter with Bangabandhu. The memory of my mother kept coming to my mind. I thought of her fondly. She might have been praying from heaven for my victory and safe return from the war. My destination was the F. H. Hall dormitory at Dhaka University. It was time to complete my master’s degree.

It was time to do my part in answering Bangabandhu’s call once again.

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Bangladesh Genocide 1971

The Bangladesh genocide committed by Pakistani occupation forces began in the early morning hours of March 26th and continued throughout the nine months of the Liberation War (MarchDecember, 1971). Though the Liberation War lasted less than a year, it is estimated that during this time the Pakistani Army and their local collaborators killed three million people. During these months, thousands of Bengali women lost their honor. In response to this carnage, about ten million people fled their homeland to take refuge in neighboring India.

It was one of the worst genocides of the post-World War II era, outstripping Rwanda (800,000 killed) and even surpassing Indonesia (1-1.5 million killed in 1965-66).

Killing of Intellectuals So that the Bengali nation could not rise, Pakistani occupation forces implemented their sinister blueprint to kill Bangladeshi intellectuals. The first victim was Dr. Shamsuz Zoha of the Chemistry Department of Rajshahi University,

It was the 18th of February 1969. Dr. Zoha, a Proctor of the university was escorting a student procession in support of the NonCooperation Movement. In the distance, a Pakistani Army platoon, * This section is written based on my earlier essay, People’s Movement in

Bangladesh for the Trial of Bangladesh War Criminals of 1971; Nuran Nabi and Jahanara Imam, p.183, Bengal Studies 1994: Essays on Economics, Society & Culture, and 1971 Bangladesh Genocide Archives

Bazaar Killing Field.

The mutilated bodies of these innocent martyrs, with their hands tied behind their backs and their blood-soaked blindfolds still fastened around their heads, were found in heaps. Many of these bodies were beyond recognition. In some cases, family members were only able to identify their loved ones by recognizing their personal artifacts.

One of the early victims was Dr. Govinda Chandra Dev. He was a professor and Chairman of the Department of Philosophy at Dhaka University. I knew him personally. He often wandered into our dormitory and talked to us about his philosophy on life. Dressed in white-linens and adorning his characteristic bushy-white hair, Professor Dev resembled the philosophers of ancient Greece. His interests were solely the pursuit of knowledge and educating his pupils.

It was unthinkable that anyone would ever raise a voice against such an innocent and peaceful philosopher, let alone murder him. However, Dr. Dev was on the list of Pakistani military strategic targets.

Amongst the other intellectuals and scientists who fell victim to the killing wave of genocide were: Prof. Munier Choudhury, Prof. Jyotirmoy Guha Thakurta, Santosh Bhattacharya, Dr. Mofazzal Haider Chowdhury, Prof. Muniruzzaman, Prof. Anwar Pasha, Prof. Giasuddin Ahmed, Dr. Fazle Rabbi of Dhaka Medical College, Dr. Aleem Chowdhury, Dr. Mohammad Murtaza, Dr. Mohammad Shafi, journalist Shahidullah Kaiser, Sirajuddin Hossain, Nizamuddin Ahmed, sports journalist S.A. Mannan (Ladu Bhai), Khandakar Abu Taleb, A. N. M. Golam Mostafa, Shaheed Saber, Nazmul Haq, Altaf Mahmud, Nutan Chandra Sinha, R P Saha, Abul Khayer, Rashidul Hasan, Sirajul Haq Khan, Abul Bashar, Dr. Muktadir, Faizul Mahi, Dr. Sadeque, Dr. Aminuddin, Saidul Hasan, film maker Zahir Raihan and many others.

These great minds were systematically slaughtered as part of Pakistan’s strategy to rob Bangladesh of its intellectual leaders.

The magnitude of the genocide committed by the Pakistani Army, the Razakars, Al Badar and Al Shams was unprecedented in the history of mankind, especially because of its intellectualcide component.

Hundreds of Mai Lais and Lidices in Bangladesh Not since the extermination of six million Jews by Nazi Germany between 1933 and 1945 has the world witnessed genocide as horrifying in its intent and as wide in its scope.

By many accounts, the magnitude of General Yahya Khan’s genocide in Bangladesh is close to that of Adolph Hitler in Eastern Europe.

In 1981, The United Nations Human Rights Commission (UNHRC) reported that the genocide committed in Bangladesh in 1971 was one of the worst in history. It is widely accepted, both in and outside of Bangladesh, that Pakistani troops and their local allies murdered a total of three million Bengalis.

The UNHRC report further assessed that even if a lower range of 1.5 million deaths was taken into account, the Bangladesh genocide would have taken place at a rate of 6 to 12 thousand deaths per day over the course of the 267 days of carnage (Genocide 71: Account of the killers and collaborators, 1988). This made the genocide in Bangladesh one of the most horrendous in modern-history.

Even the international press reported on the magnitude of the genocide. In the June 20, 1971 issue of Newsweek, Tony Clifton, wrote:

I have no doubt at all that there have been a hundred Mai Lais [Mass murder of 300-400 unarmed civilians by US soldiers in Vietnam village named Mai Lai on March 16, 1968) and Lidices [On June 10, 1942, all 192 men over 16 years of age from the village Lidice in Czech Republic were murdered on the spot by the Germans) in East Pakistan-and I think there will be more… [Speaking of Bangladesh] A much decorated officer with Patton in Europe during World War II, Gallagher, told me: ‘In the war, I saw the worst areas of France-the killing grounds in Normandy – but I never saw anything like this. It took all of my strength to keep from breaking down and crying’ (Birth of a Nation, P 38).

One of these Bangladesh Mai Lais referenced by Clifton occurred at Mirjapur village in Tangail, my home district. One day in May, Pakistani military forces and their collaborators surrounded Mirjapur village, located next to Kumudini Hospital.

Most of the villagers were Hindus and employees of the hospital. They were taking their usual lunch-break and were busy enjoying their meals. Meanwhile, Pakistani soldiers quietly and swiftly

surrounded the village.

Before anyone had a chance to flee, Pakistani forces opened fire with machine guns. They killed five hundred civilians, including women and children, and wounded many more. Some of the Razakars, who conspired in this heinous attack, were locals of the village.

The wounded begged the Razakar traitors for mercy and requested medical attention from the nearby hospital. Instead, these innocent villagers were buried alive along with the dead bodies of their families and neighbors. The bodies were barbarically cast into a nearby construction ditch to rot and be scavenged by rodents.

Another war crime was committed against famous resident of Mirjapur and benevolent founder of Kumudini Hospital, Mr. Ranada Prasad Saha. Mr. Saha was one of the most prominent philanthropists of Bangladesh.

On May 7, 1971, the Pakistani military, with the help of their local collaborators, picked up Mr. Saha and his son Bhabani Prasad Saha from their Narayanganj residence and executed them. Their dead bodies were never recovered.

In 1938, Mr. Saha established the Kumudini Foundation in memory of his mother, Kumudini who died untreated of tetanus when he was only seven years old. Mr. Saha worked very hard to rise from his humble beginnings to become one of the richest businessmen in Bangladesh. His dream was to establish a foundation that would serve the common people.

The Kumudini Foundation established hospitals, schools, and other welfare projects. Its main focus was to provide education and healthcare to women. Mr. Saha believed that education was the foremost requirement to achieve freedom for women and establish their rights.

Mr. Saha was revered as a saintly man who established this hospital in 1947 and employed hundreds of people, all in order to provide free medical care to thousands of poor people in the rural area. Even such a compassionate soul as this was not exempt from the Pakistani military strategy to obliterate Bengali leaders in every field. But, the Pakistan Army’s brutality did not end here.

Another Mai Lai occurred in Chuknagar, a town on the IndiaBangladesh border, on May 10th 1971.

After the deadly crackdown in Dhaka on March 25th, Pakistani

forces continued committing their atrocities throughout the country. First they made their way from occupying the district towns, to the sub-divisional towns, and then finally to the villages.

As news of the massacre and rape trickled down to the people, many of them left their homes and fled to India to save their lives and to protect the honor of their families.

One such group of refugees was on their way to India. They assembled at Chuknagar, a small business town located very close to the India-Bangladesh border in the Dumuria precinct of Khulna District. Chuknagar was located on the bank of the Bhadra River. Through this route thousands of refugees crossed the border to go to Calcutta, India.

On May 1oth, more than ten thousand people including men, women and children were waiting at Chuknagar to cross the border. For the refugees, it was a day filled with anxiety as they embarked on an unknown future. Nonetheless, they were relieved to know that they would soon cross the border and would be beyond the reach of the Pakistani Army’s cruel hands. Though the town was hectic and crowded, the morning was vibrant bringing with it a sense of hope and security.

Suddenly, two trucks of Pakistani soldiers stormed Chuknagar. The soldiers jumped out of their trucks and showered the refugees with bullets from their LMGs and semiautomatic rifles. There was no warning and no chance to flee or take cover.

The Pakistani soldiers continued firing like hunters taking potshots at birds in a cage. The refugees had no way to escape. Those who ran to flee were followed and killed. Those who jumped into the river were shot like fish in a barrel. The pulsating town quickly turned into a graveyard.

The Pakistani soldiers’ barbaric rage continued for several hours until they ran out of ammunition. About two hundred refugees were lucky to survive. Prof. Muntassir Mamun later investigated their eyewitness accounts.

Professor Mamun interviewed witnesses who described bodies of lifeless children slung over the laps of their dead mothers; women who desperately clung to their beloved husbands before both being shot dead; and hopeless fathers who used their own bodies to shield their daughters from an inevitable fate.

Professor Mamun quotes one witness, “Within a flash they all were just dead bodies. Blood streamed into the Bhadra River, it

became a river of corpses. A few hours later when the Pakistani bastards ran out of bullets, they killed the rest of the people with bayonets.” (Muntassir Mamun, The Archive of Liberation War, Bangabandhu and Bangladesh Research Institute).

About ten thousand people were killed at Chuknagar. It was 1971’s largest single-day, single location massacre.

International reports on the Genocide Mr. Hendric van der Heijden, a delegate of the World Bank, who had visited Kushtia in the western part of the nation, wrote that the town resembled “a German town in World War II after Allied strategic bomb attacks.”

Ninety percent of the houses, shops, banks and other buildings were totally destroyed. He noted that when he was in Kushtia, the people appeared dazed. He further described, “When we moved around, everyone fled. It was like the morning after a nuclear attack.” (Birth of a Nation: Bangladesh Mukti Samgram Sahayak Samity, Calcutta, 1971, P. 38.)

Mr. U Thant, the General Secretary of the United Nations, spoke of the genocide as “the saddest episode in human knowledge, the darkest chapter in the annals of mankind.”

Madame Isabella Blum, the head of the World Peace Commission, released a press statement on January 1, 1972, “The shocking sight of these mass graves has horrified and saddened me. This genocide was even more terrible than the Nazis gas chambers.” (The Daily Azad, Jan. 22, 1972)

Senator Adlai Stevenson, a leader of the U.S. Democratic Party, visited the mass graves in Comilla and Chittagong. On January 5, 1972, he stated, “I was horrified at the brutality of the Pakistani forces. In the annals of history there is nothing to parallel this genocide. Their inhumanity boggles the mind.” (The Daily Azad, Jan. 31, 1972).

Another U.S. Senator, Edward M. Kennedy said, “It is difficult for me to believe that any human being could even think of so much barbaric cruelty.” (The Daily Azad, Jan. 31, 1972).

The French writer, Andre Malreaux, said, “I have seen atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis during World War II, but the brutality I have witnessed here is even more terrible…” (The Daily Azad, Mar. 13, 72)

The international press continued its coverage of the Bangladesh

Genocide. In its September, 1972 issue, National Geographic Magazine reported:

Here at Comilla Barracks, Pakistani troops and local collaborators – both Bengalis and Biharis – killed perhaps 100,000 civilians, burying the bodies in mass graves that still show as sunken areas in the brown soil…In Dacca’s Hindu colony of Shakharipatti, 8,000 out of 30,000 people died…Untold thousands of women were raped, the ultimate dishonor in orthodox Moslem and Hindu societies. A 13-year old girl…was kept for months in a military camp. After the war her father brought her to a women’s relief organization that provides abortion and adoption services.

The New York Times, July 4th 1971, also reported the genocide, rapes, and other atrocities perpetrated by the Pakistani Army and their local collaborators.

Rape of Bangladesh The atrocities against Bengali women committed by Pakistani forces and their collaborators were despicable. Thousands of women were subjected to methodical brutalization, which included gang rape, confinement, and murder.

The women of Chabbisha village were amongst those who had fallen victim to such atrocities. Chabbisha village was located near our camp in Bhuapur, Tangail. I had just arrived at Bhuapur camp on November 23rd from my third meeting with the Indian generals in Tura. Immediately, I was informed of the massacre at Chabbisha. I was appalled by the actions perpetrated by the Pakistani forces and Razakars.

On November 17th, a battalion of Pakistani forces attacked our camp in Bhuapur. The Mukti Bahini, led by Commander Hakim, resisted the enemy. However, as they retreated, the enemy unleashed its anger on the innocent residents of Chabbisha village.

They began by killing several villagers by brushfire. Then they threw a number of old men, women and children into the flames while they burnt several homes to the ground. I had visited Chabbisha several times in the spring and knew many of the villagers very well.

After hearing the sad news, we rushed to the village with

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medicine and clothes that I had brought from India for the freedom fighters. When we arrived it was clear that the village had been devastated. Once a spirited village, humming with life, Chabbisha had been transformed into a burial ground in just one week.

While distributing the relief, we came to know of several rapes committed by Pakistani forces. However, out of shame, the victims were reluctant to identify themselves. It was not for another thirtyone years that a few brave women were willing to stepforward to share their stories. One of these victims, Vanu Begam was from Chabisha village. She testified in the fact-finding report: War & Women by Dr. M. A. Hasan (p 149-150).

In the report, Vanu Begam stated that a Razakar named Anis brought eight or nine Pakistani soldiers wearing dark green uniforms to her home. As her husband was not at home, Ms. Begam was frightened at the sight of the military men.

She stated, “They shot at my brother-in-law and killed him. Then they set our house on-fire. After that, they surrounded me and started dragging me to take me inside another dwelling. I fell to their feet and begged for mercy”.

Ms. Begam told the men, “I am your mother too, please do not touch me!”

But, her pleading did not sway the men. They attempted to convince Ms. Begam to succumb to their advances. She refused.

Ms. Begam recalled, “When they failed to convince me to their evil desire, they raised my five-year-old son Ranju and attempted to throw him into the flames. I became weak, so to save my son, I was forced to surrender to them. They raped me for an hour until I lost consciousness. After I came to my senses, I found that my body was pulverized, but the animals were still standing over me and laughing through their teeth”.

She stated that before they left, they grabbed her gold earrings and necklace, then poured gunpowder on her body and pushed her into the flames. The back of her body was burnt severely. After undergoing treatment for a long time, her burns finally healed leaving severe physical scarring. However, her eyesight would be permanently impaired.

When she was asked what other crimes Pakistani forces committed against her village, she said, “After entering the village, they first set some houses on fire. Two young children were frightened at the sight of the army and hid inside a stack of rice

stalks. But, the Pakistani soldiers were not fooled. They set fire to the stalks. The two children were burnt to ashes right in front of my eyes”.

Vanu Begam reported several more incidents of rape in the village, including some involving children. She told that Pakistani forces forcibly dragged Jobeda, a twelve-year-old girl, from her home. They surrounded her in her house. They then passed her from one another like a cigarette, each taking turns raping her. Finally, the Pakistani beasts left her stained body while she bled profusely on the floor.

Vanu Begam described another young rape victim. Vaskar, a local member of the union council saw his own daughter raped in front of his eyes. He was held at gunpoint while his innocent young daughter was brutally raped by Pakistani soldiers in the family’s open cattle shed.

In addition, she further testified that Pakistani forces also raped several more women. The wives of Shachin, the village gardener and Haidar another local man were both raped.

Vanu Begam stated that while Pakistani soldiers dragged her through the courtyard, she saw several other soldiers chasing Haidar’s wife. Fortunately, Haider’s wife was able to outrun the soldiers and hide in the village outhouse. However, the Pakistani beasts would not be dissuaded. They broke down the outhouse door and raped her right there in the latrine.

As the soldiers vied for the turn, they began pushing each other in the outhouse. Amidst the tussle, Haider’s wife escaped yet again. The despicable men had ripped the clothes from her body. She ran through the courtyard completely naked with blood flowing from her bruised thighs. She ran from the courtyard and hid in the paddy fields.

But, the soldiers were relentless. Four soldiers followed her, tackling her to the ground before raping her once again. With her face buried in the mud and manure of the field she laid senseless long after the men had finished. Eventually, she was rescued by her neighbors, cleaned, and given some clothes. However, no amount of goodwill could ease the pain inflicted on her by these brutal animals.

Vanu Begam further testified that Pakistani soldiers attacked another girl in a neighboring village. The girl was a young mother with an eight-day-old baby. While, she had a pot of rice boiling on the stove, she patiently sat breastfeeding her baby. Suddenly,

Pakistani soldiers stormed the house. There was no one else at home at the time.

Having just given birth, the young mother’s body was already overwhelmed. The presence of the soldiers only exacerbated her condition. The Pakistani soldiers looked the young body up and down homing in on her breasts like hyenas to prey. They had found what they had come for.

They raped the young mother in-turn until their animalistic desires were fulfilled. Annoyed by its incessant crying, the heartless soldiers threw the newborn baby into the pot of boiling rice just before they left.

Ms. Begam continued her testimony, stating that Pakistani forces killed several other villagers including the mother of another villager named Mansur.

Twenty-five other victims, from across Bangladesh were brave enough to provide their testimony in Dr. M. A. Hasan’s report, War & Women (P133-198). These victims shared in gruesome experiences nearly parallel to that of the people of Chabbisha. Their husbands and fathers were killed or arrested. Their mothers, daughters and wives were raped in their own homes and then taken away to confinement only to be repeatedly raped on a daily basis for months. On some occasions these rapes even occurred in public so as to strike fear in the hearts of the masses. These innocent women were deprived of food and medical treatment and subjected to unthinkable forms of torture.

The atrocities on Bengali women by the Pakistani forces were corroborated by several international reports. Susan Brownmiller, in her ground-breaking book, Against Our Will: Men, Women and Rape, likened the 1971 events in Bangladesh to the Japanese rapes in Nanjing and German rapes in Russia during World War II. She reported:

200,000, 300,000 or possibly 400,000 women (three sets of statistics have been variously quoted) were raped. Eighty percent of the raped women were Moslems, reflecting the population of Bangladesh, but Hindu and Christian women were not exempt… Hit-and-run rape of large numbers of Bengali women was brutally simple in terms of logistics as the Pakistani regulars

swept through and occupied the tiny, populous land… (p. 81). Another reporter, Aubrey Menen offered a similar description of one such assault, which targeted a recently married couple. Ms.

Brownmiller quoted Ms. Menen in saying:

Two (Pakistani soldiers) went into the room that had been built for the bridal couple. The others stayed behind with the family, one of them covering them with his gun. They heard a barked order, and the bridegroom’s voice protesting. Then there was silence until the bride screamed. Then there was silence again, except for some muffled cries that soon subsided. In a few minutes one of the soldiers came out, his uniform in disarray. He grinned to his companions. Another soldier took his place in the extra room. And so on, until all the six had raped the belle of the village. Then all six left, hurriedly. The father found his daughter lying on the string cot unconscious and bleeding. Her husband was crouched on the floor, kneeling over his vomit. (Brownmiller,

Against Our Will, p. 82.) Although there is little evidence, some have argued that gruesome accounts of Droit de Seigneur have existed throughout history. However, the rape in Bangladesh was not limited to the young and fair. Ms. Brownmiller writes, “Rape in Bangladesh had hardly been restricted to beauty.” She adds,

“Girls of eight and grandmothers of seventy-five had been sexually assaulted…Pakistani soldiers had not only violated Bengali women on the spot; they abducted tens of hundreds and held them by force in their military barracks for nightly use. Some women may have been raped as many as eighty times in a night.”

(Brownmiller, p. 83) These were not isolated incidents. These perpetrators were not only limited low-level soldiers and Razakars. These rapists included the highest level of Pakistani military commanders and members of the Jamaat-e-Islami Party. These vile crimes against women were deliberate and organized in nature. They were carried out in the name of protecting Islam.

Refugees About ten million people took shelter in India to escape the atrocities of the Pakistani forces and their collaborators. Amongst them was my classmate from Dhaka University, Bokul and her family. Bokul was a student activist of Chatra Union, a left oriented student organization. When Dhaka University was closed in March,

Bokul responded to Bangabandhu’s call for non-cooperation and returned to her hometown in Dinajpur, a district headquarter in the northwestern part of Bangladesh near the Indian border.

News of the Dhaka massacre perpetrated by Pakistani forces on March 26th had made its way to Dinajpur town. Apprehension fostered rumors that Pakistani forces from the Rangpur cantonment and their Bihari supporters from Saidpur would proceed towards Dinajpur to occupy the town. Biharis were Urdu speaking proPakistani Muslims who migrated from the Bihar province of India to East Pakistan after the partition of India in 1947

On March 27th, during curfew, sounds of bullets resonated throughout Dinajpur. Bokul’s father, Mr. Fahimuddin Ahmed, headmaster of nearby St. Philips High School, grew worried about the safety of his family. His two youngest daughters, Bokul and Nurjahan Talukdar (Kamala) were staying with him. Kamala had been married for a few months, but her husband Karimul Haque Talukdar was in Bangkok, Thailand pursuing his engineering degree.

Bokul’s eldest sister, Shamsun Nahar was married to an advocate, Abdul Motaleb who lived in a nearby neighborhood. They had a young boy, Jewel, who was four years old and a daughter, Shoheli, who was three-years old. They came to know that the people of the town were leaving in apprehension of an impending attack by Pakistani forces.

Mr. Ahmed did not hesitate when making the most important decision of his life. He readied his family to abandon their home and flee to a safer place. It was a very scary and emotional decision. They would have to leave behind all of their memories and personal belongings. They packed only the essential items that they could carry.

They knew that once they were gone, no one could ensure what would happen to their home or to their cherished possessions. Nonetheless, they hired a poor man named Khatir to look after their home.

On March 28th, the curfew was lifted. Before the enemy could infiltrate the town or impose another curfew, Bokul’s family, along with her older sister’s family, embarked on an unknown destination. They did not know when or if they would ever return home.

There were eight members in the group: Bokul, Kamala, Mr. and Mrs. Ahmed, Shamsun, Advocate Motaleb, Jewel and Shoheli. First they boarded rickshaws to get out of town. While they were passing

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through the town, they saw dead bodies littered along the roadside at several locations.

At the outskirt of the town, they left the rickshaw and walked on foot for several miles. Finally, they hired an ox-driven cart to take them towards the Indian border.

Advocate Motaleb had some clients who lived in the border area. The family arrived at one of Motaleb’s clients’ homes where they were graciously received and spent the night.

Unfortunately, the presence of two pretty university-aged girls drew a lot of attention from the villagers. Moreover, there was a proPakistani Muslim League leader in the neighboring village. The host advised his guests to leave his home as soon as possible for their own safety.

Bokul’s family left the next morning and continued on their journey towards the Indian boarder. This time, with no roads to travel by, the families could not hire another ox-driven cart. They had no choice, but to walk carrying their belongings on their shoulders. They trekked along narrow aisles of farmland. Their journey was tiresome and fraught with danger. The women and children experienced great difficulty walking. At one point, Bokul and Kamala’s sandal-straps snapped. They continued their journey barefoot for the rest of the trip. No one in the family had ever embarked on such an arduous expedition before. They had to take frequent breaks to rest.

Nonetheless, they had to reach their destination before sunset. So they each dug deep within themselves to harness every last ounce of energy

There was a growing rush to move towards the border. Along their way, they met other families whose paths also converged towards the Indian border.

After spending the day drudging under the blistering sun, they finally reached a village near the border where two of Motaleb’s clients lived. Their hosts Moyezuddin and Abdul Hamid cordially received Bokul’s family and assured them any help they needed. It was a great relief for the family.

During the last two days, Bokul’s family was preoccupied with ensuring their own safety and avoiding the perils of their journey. However, after settling down in a relatively safer place, they had the chance to ask, “Where was the other member of our family, Dalim?”

Bokul’s only brother Shamsur Rahman, or Dalim as he was called,

was an engineer working for the Bangladesh Railway. He was stationed in Chittagong, a port city in southeastern Bangladesh.

By this leg of the families’ journey news of the massacre in Chittagong, as well as the Bengali resistance, had already been aired on Indian radio. The radio news also mentioned that Biharis, with the help of Pakistani forces, had killed many innocent Bengalis in the railway staff quarters in Pahartali, where Dalim lived.

Everyone in Bokul’s family was concerned for Dalim. Bokul’s mother was desperate to know of her only son’s whereabouts. She started crying. There was no way for the family to get in contact with Dalim. With the growing numbers of Bengalis murdered in Dalim’s staff quarters, there was no safe way to get information about him. With each day that passed, the families’ anxiety grew. All they could do was pray for Dalim’s safety.

The family’s only consolation was that Kamala’s husband, Karimul was still safe in Bangkok. However, Karimul was riddled with anxiety himself, as he had no way of knowing the whereabouts of his wife and in-laws.

The sanctuary of the border village was short lived. Pakistani forces after securing district towns and local towns, moved towards the Bangladesh-Indian border. Enemy forces and their collaborators hunted pro-Bangladesh activists as well as refugees.

Like Bokul’s family, many refugees took shelter in the villages near the border. Many had not yet crossed the border to India in hopes that things would settle down, allowing them to eventually return to their homes.

However, by April, an all-out liberation war had begun under the leadership of the Provisional Bangladesh Government. Freedom fighters had regrouped in the border areas and began waging a stiff resistance to Pakistani occupation forces. In response, Pakistani forces did their best to secure the border villages.

Informers would warn the villagers that Pakistani forces and their collaborators were on the way to attack the villages by night. Villagers, particularly women, would flee their homes and hide in the jungles behind the villages.

The house where Bokul’s family stayed had no jungle behind it. Instead Bokul and her sisters would hide behind mounds of sand in a dry riverbed. Such hiding places were filthy. During these times, remote villages like this often used the riverbed as latrines for animal and human waste.

Nonetheless, at the first sign of a raid, Bokul and her sisters would run to the back of the house and dive headfirst into the riverbed. These moments were nerve-wracking. Amidst hiding, Bokul and her two sisters would bury their brows in the soil, clenching each other’s hands to pray. They prayed to Allah asking that He save them from the Pakistani beast. After each hiding, they had to bathe and wash their clothing just to rid themselves of the stench.

Luckily the informers’ warnings had come early; the enemy had not yet raided the village. Mr. Ahmed and his family grew tired of this cat and mouse game. He was no longer willing to put up with such psychological torture. He knew that eventually it would be unsafe to stay here. He had to ask himself, “What would have happened had Pakistani forces raided the village?”

Such quandaries were beyond imagination. He decided it was time to cross the border to India.

In India, Mr. Ahmed had very few options in taking care of his family. The safety and well being of his family were more important than his own life. He could not fathom taking shelter in an Indian government-sponsored refugee camp where thousands of refugees passed their days amidst inhuman circumstances.

Unfortunately, because of the imposed curfew, Mr. Ahmed was unable to withdraw money from his bank account before leaving Dinajpur. He brought with him whatever cash he had at home. Although he did not know how long he would stay in India, he desperately looked for a place to rent for him and his seven family members. But, rural areas like this rarely had spare rooms for rent.

Luckily, Mr. Ahmed found a very poor farmer who was in desperate need of money. Bokul’s family rented the hut from the farmer at an affordable price. To allow for the new accommodation, the farmer and his family moved to the cattle shed, while the cattle moved to an open area in the corner of the premises.

A new phase of refugee life began for Bokul’s family. Kamala sent a letter to her husband in Bangkok. Karimul replied a month later. He asked one of his Indian friends to mail the letter to his family in India. Then they arranged to deliver the letter to Kamala. She was ecstatic to hear from her husband after so long.

Right after their marriage, Karimul had to leave for Bangkok to attend class. Kamala was scheduled to join him soon after. However, war broke out just before her departure for Bangkok.

Sadly, not all of the family’s anxieties were put to rest. In spite of numerous efforts, Dalim’s whereabouts were still unknown. To add to their dismay, some more shocking news had filtered to the family. Before the family had fled, they had hired a man named Khatir to serve as the caretaker of the family’s home while they were away. But just a few days after Bokul’s family had fled, Biharis raided the home, murdered Khatir, and ransacked the house.

In addition, Bokul received some devastating news regarding the family of one of her closest friends, Joyanti. Bokul and Joyanti were classmates in high school, Dinajpur Government Degree College, and then again at Dhaka University. Joyanti’s father, Monu Sarkar was part of the administrative staff at Dinajpur Government Degree College and a very popular music teacher in town.

Like most parents of the liberation-era, Mr. Sarkar was very concerned about the safety of his seven boys and girls. He asked them all to flee their home. His children all went to India just as Bokul’s family did. However, Mr. and Mrs. Sarkar stayed behind.

One day, after the occupation of Dinajpur Town by Pakistani forces, a few Razakars paid a visit to Mr. Sarkar’s house. As the Razakars knocked at the door Mr. Sarkar asked his wife to hide in the chicken-coop behind the house.

The Razakars grabbed Mr. Sarkar by his collar and dragged him out to the courtyard. They cursed at him in Bengali because he was a Hindu and let loose a profane-laden tirade against him. They accused him of sending his children to become freedom fighters.

Before, he could utter a word; they crushed his skull with the blunt end of a hammer. The motionless body fell to their feet. Quivering from inside the sulfurous chicken-coop, Mrs. Sarkar watched as the horrendous scene unfolded.

For all the years that the family had lived in Dinajpur, Mr. Sarkar had always been a revered teacher, respected by the community, Hindu and Muslim alike. But now, hiding in the cramped shack that her husband had built for their chickens, Mrs. Sarkar’s tears fell to the straw floor. She was helpless. The fear of death had robbed her of voice. There was no one to hear her scream. She was alone.

She could not believe what had just happened to her husband. Sadly her mental anguish would not end. One of the Razakars then proceeded to cut Mr. Sarkar’s throat with the serrated edge of his dagger. Before any more blood could flow from Mr. Sarkar’s already dead body, another Razakar brandished a machete. Unable to take it

anymore, Mrs. Sarkar fainted.

When Mrs. Sarkar finally came to her senses, she crawled out of her hiding spot and found her husband’s body cut into seven pieces. After a somber moment, hysteria had crept in. The widowed Mrs. Sarkar sat in front of her husband’s mutilated body for three days and nights.

The curfew had left the neighborhood deserted. There was no one to help her. There was no one to hear her moans. Finally, a neighbor responded to the eerie haunts at the Sarkar residence. The neighbor helped gather the severed limbs and arbitrary body parts from the blood-soaked earth.

Bokul wept at the news of this tragedy. She longed to be with her dear friend to offer her condolences and sympathy. However, Joyanti was one of the ten million refugees living in any one of the eight hundred twenty nine refugee camps in Indian. All Bokul could do was pray for the safety of her friend and remaining family members.

This was not an isolated incident. This was just part of the Pakistani military’s master plan. Pakistan had a blueprint to eradicate Hindus from Bangladesh. This was a deliberate message to the Hindu community, urging them to leave Bangladesh for good.

In addition, the Razakars had their own personal incentives. With the Hindus gone, the Razakars would finally be free to seize any abandoned property.

The Ahmed family’s new accommodation was a hut consisting of a single twenty-by-sixteen foot room. Its roof was made of straw. With no furniture, the family had to sleep on the mud floor with a layer of straws as a communal bed.

During rainstorms, water leaked through the roof. At night, they would sit in the one corner of the room where the roof had yet to be breached. Meanwhile, pots occupied the areas under the leaks to collect rainwater. As the monsoon season began, the family’s life became miserable. Mr. Ahmed had no option, but to spend his last bit of cash to fix the leaky roof.

Another acute problem arose for the women. How would they answer nature’s call? They had no choice, but to walk into the nearby jungle and relieve themselves.

As the cash ran out, Mr. Ahmed went to the refugee camps to get weekly rations. Bokul registered with the refugee camp to work as a medical assistant. The solitary hour-long walk to the refugee camp was not easy for Bokul.

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Confined to their hut, the family had nothing to do other than sit and listen to the radio and gather the latest news on the warfront. The radio was often glued to Motaleb’s hands as he scanned the dial from one station to the next.

Little did Mr. Ahmed know that on that fateful day in March, when he decided to escape with his family towards India, that he and his family would spend the next nine months in this selfimposed prison. Nor would he know that each day would be burdened with the anxiety of not knowing whether his only son was dead or alive. As those nine months passed, all Mr. Ahmed could do was to ensure the safety of his daughters and grandchildren.

Although I did not know it then, this refugee-story would hold special meaning for me. After the war, I returned to the university where my path converged with Bokul’s once again. Soon after in 1974, Bokul and I got married. Both Dalim and Karimul attended our wedding

About ten million people were forced to cross the border into India (National Geography, Sept. 1972) to escape the mass murders, rape, and sheer destruction carried out by Pakistani forces and their collaborators. The Indian government provided eight hundred and twenty-nine refugee camps in the Indian Territory around the Bangladesh border. However, the colossal influx of refugees was a tremendous burden on the Indian economy as well as on the nation’s social-fabric.

In places like in Tripura, refugees outnumbered the local population. For the first few months, to cope with the initial thrust of refugees, the Indian government provided logistical support in creating makeshift refugee camps. However, with dwindling resources, many of these refugees were forced to take shelter in subhuman-conditions. Some even took to the abandoned drainage pipes at Salt Lake, Calcutta.

Despite sincere efforts by the Indian government and aid from local and international organizations, many refugees began suffering from malnutrition and diseases, often resulting in death.

According to the United Nations office in Bangladesh, in addition to the ten million refugees in India, about twenty million people were displaced within Bangladesh from their homes.

In spite of the suffering of ten million refugees, President Nixon and Henry Kissinger were tilted towards Pakistani President Yahya Khan. Just when hopes for political sympathy were dwindling, one

prominent American deviated from the mold of apathy. He was Senator Edward M. Kennedy, a 39-year-old senator from Massachusetts. On August 21, 1971, Senator Kennedy traveled to various refugee camps in India in order to gain firsthand knowledge of the refugees’ plight.

Senator Kennedy was appalled to see the callous affliction of ten million refugees. Based on his eyewitness account, Senator Kennedy coined the phrase, the “Reign of Terror Which Grips East Bengal which he detailed in his report to the Senate.

Senator Kennedy’s report was so passionate that it shook the world. There was no choice but to take notice. He made it clear that the refugees needed aid. Senator Kennedy eloquently described his experience:

A traveler today in eastern India cannot help but see, smell, and feel this misery. It is etched in the faces and lives of refugees in countless ways. It is the malnourished child hanging limply in its mother’s arms – one child out of a half million who, in a matter of hours or days, can easily die from the lack of protein and adequate medical care. It is a young girl, quivering in a refugee camp in Tripura, still in shock after seeing her mother and father slaughtered by Pakistani troops. It is a 14-year-old boy in Jalpaiguri Hospital, whose face is contorted from the pain and anguish that he has experienced since he saw his family shot before his eyes and since he received a bullet wound in his spine, which has paralyzed him for life. And it is the expression of hundreds of thousands of refugees living in sewer pipes on the outskirts of Calcutta, while overworked relief officials struggle to provide some food and shelter and hope for a needy and hopeless people. (Crisis in South Asia, Report to the Subcommittee Investigating the Problem of Refugees and Their Settlement, Submitted to U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee, Kennedy, November 1, 1971, U.S. Govt. Press, pp. 6-7.)

Senator Kennedy stated, “That to drive the roads of West Bengal is to tour a huge refugee camp.” Kennedy traveled from Calcutta towards the border through old Jessore Road where he met millions of refugees. On seeing the refugees, Kennedy described, “literally millions of people sat huddled together waiting for food, or lined up in endless queues for refugee registration cards, or simply encamped on the roadside under hastily constructed lean-tos. And each day their numbers continued to grow.”

In concluding his report, Kennedy drew on a little known connection between the Hindus of Bangladesh and the Jews of Nazi Germany

Nothing is clear or more easily documented, than the systematic campaign of terror-and its genocidal consequenceslaunched by the Pakistani Army on the night of March 25th. Field reports to the US government, countless eyewitness journalistic accounts, and reports from international agencies such as the World Bank, and additional information available to the Subcommittee document the continuing reign of terror, which grips East Bengal. Hardest hit have been members of the Hindu community who have been robbed of their lands and shops, systematically slaughtered, and, in some places, painted with yellow patches marked “H”. All of this has been officially sanctioned, ordered and implemented under martial law from Islamabad. (Crisis in South Asia, Report to the Subcommittee Investigating the Problem of Refugees and Their Settlement, Submitted to U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee, Kennedy,

November 1, 1971, U.S. Govt. Press, pp. 6-7.) It is evident from Senator Kennedy’s report that just as the Jews were forced to wear gold stars affixed to their clothing, Hindus during the 1971 war were identified by their own governmentenforced markings. It would be hardly a stretch to imagine that the Pakistani military borrowed this strategy from the Nazis.

Senator Kennedy further concluded, “America’s heavy support of Islamabad (West Pakistan] is nothing short of complicity in the human and political tragedy of East Bengal.” (Crisis in South Asia, Kennedy, pp.6-7)

Leaders of War Crimes The violence perpetrated against the people of Bangladesh in 1971 was more than a series of random and incidental killings. Rather it was a carefully planned strategy orchestrated by Pakistani military leaders and executed by their professional soldiers and local collaborators. This was a military government-sponsored genocide.

There were several Pakistani military government leaders personally responsible for the genocide in Bangladesh. Topping this list were President General Yahya Khan, Chief of Staff General Pirzada, Security Chief General Umar Khan, and Intelligence Chief

General Akbar Khan.

In addition, several military commanders stationed in East Pakistan were responsible for executing this heinous plan. Amongst the many military commanders responsible, General Niazi, General Tikka Khan, and Gen. Rao Forman Ali were amongst the most notable.

The Bengali collaborators of this genocide were the leaders of the Jamaat-e-Islami, an Islamic-fundamentalist political party. There were several perpetrators, but the most notorious of them were Moulana Golam Azam, Moulana Motiur Rahman Nizami, Moulana Ali Ahsan Mohammed Mujahid, Moulana Delowar Hossain Saidi, Moulana Kamruzzam, Kader Mollah, Ashrafuzzaman Khan, and Choudhury Moinuddin.

These leaders established the armed cadres known as Razakars, Al Badars, and Al Shams. These armed cadres were equivalent to Hitler’s Gestapo who were responsible for rounding up Jews and sending them to their demise in concentration camps.

Jamaat-e-Islami leaders organized these militant groups for carrying out and aiding in the systematic murder of more than three million innocent people and the rape of more than two-hundred thousand women, all in the name of protecting Islam. Of the women raped, 20% were Hindus and Christians, but 80% were Muslims.

Robert Payne in his book, Massacre, illustrated the mechanical nature of Pakistani forces in carrying out the 1971 genocide of Bangladesh:

For month after month, in all the regions of East Pakistan, the massacres went on. They were not the small casual killings of young officers who wanted to demonstrate their efficiency, but organized massacres conducted by sophisticated staff officers, who knew exactly what they were doing. Muslim soldiers, sent out to kill Muslim peasants, went about their work mechanically and efficiently, until killing defenseless people became a habit like smoking cigarettes or drinking wine… Not since Hitler

invaded Russia had there been so vast a massacre. Mr. Payne also described the role of President Nixon and Dr. Henry Kissinger in the Bangladesh genocide. He wrote, “The U.S government, long supportive of military rule in Pakistan, supplied some $3.8 million in military equipment to the dictatorship after the onset of the genocide…and after a government spokesman told

Congress that all shipments to Yahya Khan’s regime had ceased.” (Payne, Massacre, p. 102)

In the face of documented genocide, the Nixon administration lied to the U.S. Congress regarding the nation’s involvement in supporting Pakistan’s systematic attempt to obliterate an entire nation of people.

Pakistani generals and their forces, including both higher and lower ranking officers, were “willing-executioners of the Bangladesh genocide. Their attitudes were fueled by anti-Bengali racism, particularly against the Bengali-Hindu minority. Mr. Rummel in his book, Death by Government, attested to this notion:

Bengalis were often compared with monkeys and chickens. Said Pakistan General Niazi, ‘It was a low lying land of low lying people. The Hindus among the Bengalis were as Jews to the Nazis: scum and vermin that should at] best be exterminated. As to the Moslem Bengalis, they were to live only on the sufferance of the soldiers: any infraction, any suspicion cast on them, any need for reprisal, could mean their death. And the soldiers were free to kill at will. The journalist Dan Coggin quoted one Punjabi captain as telling him, ‘we can kill anyone for anything. We are accountable to no one. This is the arrogance of Power. (Rummel

1. 335) In addition to overwhelming evidence from eyewitness accounts, reports from the perpetrators themselves, as well as reports from international organizations, the post-war Pakistani government also admitted that Pakistani forces perpetrated war crimes in Bangladesh.

The post-war Pakistani government appointed a fact-finding commission on the Bangladesh war headed by Justice Hamoodur Rahman. The reports of the commission concluded that Pakistani forces in Bangladesh committed war crimes in 1971.

Several Pakistani generals also confessed in their memoirs that their forces in Bangladesh committed these war crimes. However, each blamed the other of carrying out the criminal activity without ever taking personal responsibility

General Niazi once explained that as a military commander he was not responsible for civilian casualties. General Niazi pointed out that General Rao Forman Ali was in charge of the civilian administration. However, when questioned, General Ali stated that General Niazi was the supreme commander of the armed forces, and

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that General Niazi was responsible for all that had happened in East Pakistan during the war.

About ninety thousand Pakistani soldiers surrendered in Bangladesh and were taken as prisoners of war. The Bangladesh government investigated the accusations of war crimes and filed charges against two hundred Pakistani officers for specific war crimes (List of Pakistani war criminals are shown in appendix A). However, before they were put on trial, the Indian and Bangladesh governments were forced to release the POWs, including the accused war criminals, to Pakistani authorities. The decision came only under pressure from the world’s superpowers.

Under the agreement for release of the Pakistani POWs, the Pakistani government promised to put the war criminals on trial in Pakistan. However, they failed to keep their promise.

Rather, the Pakistani government appointed one of these notorious war criminals, General Tikka Khan, as Chief of Staff of the Pakistani Army. Many of the other war criminals were also rewarded with promotions within the armed forces, allowing them to continue their services. Some of these war criminals were even appointed to high-profile government assignments.

On the other hand, most of the leaders of the Jamaat-e-Islami, Razakars, Al Badars and Al Shams fled Bangladesh just before the fall of Dhaka. Right after the independence, the government of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had arrested more than 37,000 alleged Razakars, Al Badars and Al Shams under the Collaborators Act of 1972, and the International Crime Act of 1973.

After investigation and scrutiny, 26,000 detainees were found without any criminal charges against them, and they were pardoned under general amnesty. However, about 12,000 collaborators were charged with specific crimes against humanity and were placed on trial under a Special Tribunal Act of 1973.

By August 1975, the Special Tribunal Court completed the trial of a small section of detainees and found 800 guilty-as-charged and sentenced the offenders to prison for various terms. One particular war criminal named Chikan Ali was sentenced to death for his war crimes.

However, on August 15th 1975, Prime Minister Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was assassinated along with many of his family members, before his government was overthrown in a military coup. The subsequent military government led by General

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