Thank you Pakistan Memoirs pf a 1971 war survivor – Sylvia Pandit

Thank you Pakistan Memoirs pf a 1971 war survivor – Sylvia Pandit

Dedication

My father Lutfur Rahman and my mother Monowara Rahman were great fans of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. They were personally involved with Awami League political party.
Both my parents were active members of the election of 1970. They worked for Bongo Bondhu
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Every evening my mother and father held meetings with the other
active members of Awami League political party about the election at our 8/2 R.K Mission Road
residence.
Syed Khwaja Khairuddin who was the president of East Pakistan Muslim League and then
Mayor of Dhaka was one of the candidates in the 1970 election against Bongo Bondhu Sheikh
Mujibur Rahman of Old Dhaka. Before the 1970s election, one day in the middle of the night khawja Khairuddin sent his men with a briefcase full of money to bribe my father. Khwaja Khairuddin sent the money to him because he wanted to influence my father. He wished my
father worked for him instead of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
My father sent them back saying, “khawja Khairuddin can’t buy me with money, I will try my best to make Sheikh Mujibur Rahman a winner”. My father worked hard for Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in the election of Old Dhaka and made him a winner against khawja Khairuddin . As a result khawja Khairuddin ordered the Pakistani Army to burn all my father’s businesses on March 25th 1971: the black night of our nation. Our house was also occupied by the Bangladeshi traitors when we ran away from Dhaka to our village for shelter. After the war my father was killed by a traitor. We had nothing, not even a glass for drinking water. This is how we embraced the victory of our great nation Bangladesh.
I am dedicating “Thank You, Pakistan” to my great parents Mr. Lutfur Rahman and Mrs.
Monowara Rahman.
Sylvia Pandit

Prologue
Thank you, Pakistan!
Yes, I want to thank Pakistan for being so cruel with us from 1948 to 1971. If they would not be
so cruel, the history of our country would not be so rich. We would not get Bongobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. We would not get February 21st as International Mother Language Day. We would not get the War of ’71, Independence Day, Victory Day. We also would not get so many Bengali leaders, Bengali poets and writers. Our music is so sweet – we would lose that too. If Pakistan would not force us to abandon Bangla as our mother tongue and accept Urdu instead,
maybe things would be very different. Their pressure against our language and freedom made us love our language and country more. After that we started loving Nazrul Geetee (Nazrul’s songs), Rabindra Sangit (Tagore’s songs), Lalon Geetee (Lalon’s songs) Hason Raja (Hason Raja songs) and many more. Pakistan failed to make us forget such beautiful music but love it more. Pakistan helped us love our country more, love our language and culture more. That is why I am always grateful to Pakistan.
If they would not force us to leave our Bangla language how would we get February 21st as International Language Day? If they would not make us feel inferior, how would we love ourselves more? If they would not attack unarmed Bangladeshis in the middle of the night without notice and would not kill innocent Bangladeshis on March 25th, 1971 how would we know our people were so brave? I thank Pakistan whenever I see my country Bangladesh and its people cherish their freedom of language and freedom of culture. Thank you Pakistan for helping us to establish a country on the global map named Bangladesh by your indecencies from 1948 to
1971.
In reliving my memories of the war, I cannot help but thank all the national and foreign heroes
who helped in the birth of Bangladesh.
Special thanks to Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman who gave the courage to all the Bangladeshis to fight for the country against the Pakistani government, who helped us dream of an independent country Bangladesh, who sacrificed most of his life staying in the jail to establish

the right of Bangladeshi people.
Special thanks to A.K. Fazlul Huq who is called SHER E BANGLA (TIGER OF BANGLA),
Hossain Shaheed Sharwardi. They were the real heroes who brought us Bangladesh by planting a
seed in the Bangladeshi soil. The name of that seed was Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, today that seed became a huge tree, and the Bangladeshi people are the fruits of that tree. Now in the global map
that tree is known as Bangladesh.
Heartiest thanks to Indira Gandhi who opened the border of India to shelter the helpless Bangladeshi people. Special thanks to the Indian army who fought against Pakistani army to bring us a free country Bangladesh. I always salute our freedom fighters and the mothers of those freedom fighters who sacrificed their sons by sending them to battlefield to fight against the Pakistan army.
Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmed, Mohammad Mansur Ali and Abul Hasnat Mohammad
worked hard to form a government in absence of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and they were successful. April 17th, Mujibnagar day, on this day in 1971, the Mujibnagar government was
formed by the elected leaders of Bangladesh at the rightful constitution, – a logical and realistic step forward towards the full realization of our dream of an independent country of our own.
These four leaders are our pride and we will never forget them. I am very much thankful to these four national leaders for their achievements. At the same time, I am very sorry because they were killed brutally in the jail on November 3rd 1975 right after the assassination of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his entire family. This murder will remain as a black spot of our
nation.
I am very much grateful to Sheikh Hasina, daughter of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman who has been risking her life for the last 37 years to make Bangladesh, a country of gold to
achieve her father’s dream. To me she is a real heroine, I personally love to call her IRON
LADY. She brought us Chit Mahal (extra land), solved the unsolved sea issue. She made
Bangladesh sin free by hanging the traitors of Bangladesh and the killers of the Father of the
Nation and his family. May Almighty protect her and give her more opportunities to serve
Bangladesh more.

JOY BANGLA

Chapter 1 The Black Night
When I decided to publish a book based on my experiences of 1971 liberation war, I started
thinking – how would I write the book? For the last 46 years I have been crying without tears. I
lost my childhood witnessing my mother’s struggle, watching my siblings strive for a better life,
seeing our relatives pitying us as orphans. How would I describe how I felt when my father passed away? How would I describe what I felt when I saw my father’s killer in front of us
enjoying freedom? How would I describe my feeling when my relatives found out that my father
was killed by Razakars and did absolutely nothing? [Razakar was an anti – Bangladesh paramilitary force organized by the Pakistan army during the Bangladesh liberation War in 1971. Since the 1971 War, it has become a pejorative term (implying traitor) in Bangladesh due to the numerous atrocities committed by the Razakars during the War. The Razakar force was composed of mostly anti-Bangladesh and pro-Pakistan Bengalis and Urdu-speaking migrants who lived in Bangladesh at that time.
My knowledge is very limited. All that I’ve come to know about Independence Day and Victory Day is drawn from my own experiences. I was not born when our young generations sacrificed their lives to save our mother language, Bangla, in 1952. I only remember my mother going to the National Martyr Monument, wearing a white saree with a black border, barefoot and holding a bouquet of flowers. That is how she paid her respect to the brave souls who sacrificed their
lives in the War of 52. But after the War of 71, I never saw her go back there. She struggled with
the six of us, now fatherless. I was a little girl before the 71 Bangladesh-Pakistan War, and so
could not understand the depth of the feelings my mother had for the martyrs, but gradually I
understood why she was so keen to go there and why all those who fought against the Pakistani
government to save Bangla language were as dangerous as the tides of an ocean on a stormy night. I can’t forget a single day of 71 War. How can I forget those days? Escaping the gunfire of the Pakistani army, the hardship, suddenly having to live without my father who was my hero, my everything, my most favorite person. Our hard life started from the day that the Pakistani army attacked Bangladesh. They burned my father’s textile mill, business center – everything. It was the 25th of March, 1971. The night we lost all our property, the night we became poor.
The War of 71 made us helpless. This war influenced my mind so terribly that whenever I am
introduced to someone, I begin describing to them my experiences, I tell them how proud I am of being a Bangladeshi. I inform them how our young youth dedicated their bright futures to bring long awaited freedom for our SONAR BANGLA (THE LAND OF GOLD). Sometimes people
wonder how I remember everything of the 71 War as I was a little girl. They want to know with an endless curiosity how I have not forgotten anything. My answer to them is always simple – although I was a lot younger but what I experienced during the war was unforgettable. My memories begin from the evening of March 25th, 1971. We called that evening The Black Night [KALO RAAT]…
On March 25th, 1971 all my family members were celebrating the victory of Bongobondhu (Sheikh Mujibur Rahman), because he won the election against Yahya Khan. Both my parents were involved with the Awami-league political party. When the president Sheikh Mujibur
Rahman of Awami-league won the election, my mother decided to celebrate.
I was a little girl, four years of age. I remember seeing everyone very happy. There was a
celebratory party at our house. We had a butler, who was cooking under my mother’s direction, when my father came home accompanied by my uncles, aunts, cousins and friends from
university to commemorate this victory.
Our residence during the late 60s was grand. We had a huge front yard and an L-shaped garden where my mother would spend a lot of time. It was beautiful. Our house was opposite Ram Krishna Mandir (Mandir means Hindu Temple). We used to see the temple from our porch. There was a gorgeous pond in front of the temple and beautiful sitting arrangement beside the pond for the visitors. From my childhood I was fond of trees. Our house had so many mature trees and the Ram Krishna Temple had the mature trees as well. Our house and Ram Krishna Temple together had been my dreamland. We had a big guava tree in the middle of our lawn. Every evening all my relatives would gather in our front yard. My parents were great hosts. I was not allowed to join that gathering as I was a little girl but I used to enjoy seeing the gathering
from the porch and sometimes when playing in the garden.

Our house was an old fashioned ranch house, with a verandah surrounding the entire structure. There was a dining table on the porch, and an extension table that was used whenever we had
guests. The guests would sit with my parents at the main table and my siblings and I had to sit
along the extension when we had company, – always happy to do so because we loved having people over. There was a tall matured tree behind the kitchen, our kitchen was separate from the
main building, as traditional houses had back then.
I loved that tree so much, the leaves were deep green. Those leaves were somehow medicinal.
My mother used the leaves as medicine whenever family members had suffered from stomach illnesses. She would put the leaves in a cup of water, and I would watch as the water then turned
pink. I loved drinking that pink-colored water, and would sometimes act ill to have her make me
a glass. Now I think that she knew that I was pretending, but prepared it for me with love anyway. I named it the ‘Pink Tree’. In 1970 there was a dreadful tornado. Dhaka was destroyed as a result, and my pink tree was ruined as well. I experienced the tornado while we lived in that old fashioned house. One day in the evening the weather was terrible. It was raining for few days
and then there was a blackout. The house became dark without electricity, our butler brought
candles for every room. I was watching the tornado outside with my mother, it was massive. I
was scared, holding my mother tight, and watching the pink tree was falling down slowly. Seeing
that, I held my mother and cried, upset that I would never see the tree again. Thinking about that
makes me sad even today.
And so was the night of March 25th, 1971.
It was a lovely evening; all my relatives already came to celebrate the victory of Awami League
political party. Under the leadership of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, Awami League participated in the election of 1970 and won the 167 seats. It was a great victory. My family was so happy because my parents were both personally involved in the election. After the result of the election, General Yahya and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto both were taking time to hand over the power to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. It was illegal, but even so, Yahya and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto were playing games to keep the power in their hands. My family was elated about the election results and mother
immediately began planning a dinner party at our place a few months after the election.

My dad was busy establishing a high school in our village. My grandfather was a strong advocate of women’s education and shared his wishes with my father who was working hard to
turn it into a reality, building it close to the village homes so that young girls would not have to travel a long distance to attend classes. My father was a great human being and a good son too. He never disobeyed my grandfather. He built a primary and a high school and named the school Y. M High School in my grandfather’s name. To honor my grandfather, my elder sister got her high school graduation from Y.M high school even though she completed her earlier education in from Qamrunnessa Government High School which was established in Dhaka city, now the capital. I am so proud of my grandfather. To this day, my cousins are running that school
successfully.
On March 25th, 1971 when all our guests came to celebrate the election with my family, I saw
them enjoying snacks and tea in our lawn. My father came home early and was talking to the guests. My mother was busy giving the cook the dinner menu. I was playing in the garden with
my brother, watching a student sing while playing the harmonium. I was enjoying the music. He
looked so happy while singing. I remember the lyrics of that song the student was singing in our garden on March 25th, 1971. It was a parody song. The lyrics of that song was “Bhutto babar lej dhore shorge jobogo, Yahhiyar lej dhore shorge jobogo”. It was not only the victory party of Bongobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman; it was the victory party of my parents too.
That night, as usual, being the youngest member of the family, I was sent to bed early. The next
morning, I woke up and heard my mother was crying. My father was trying his best to console
her. She was crying because the Pakistani Army attacked Bangladesh without notice. They killed
university students while the students were sleeping in the dorm after dinner. They attacked
police stations, burned my father’s textile mill, his business, everything. My mother was crying
because most of her brothers used to live near the police station. She thought the Pakistan army killed all her brothers that night. I later heard that the Pakistani army killed many innocent, peace-loving civilians as they went to bed for a better morning. I pity those coward Pakistanis. Sometimes I wonder what happened to that student who sang in our garden celebrating the victory of Awami League political party.
Sometimes I think he might have been killed by the Pakistani army while sleeping in the dorm after the dinner he had at our place that evening, or he might have become a freedom fighter. I always pray for him. I loved the song he sang at our place that evening and loved his joyful way of singing. I will always keep him in my heart for making that evening gorgeous…
Chapter 2 Building Up to 1971
Whenever I talk with Americans or with the people of different nationalities, I love to tell them
about my country Bangladesh. I describe to them how our young generations fought against the coward Pakistani army without any early precaution, how we fought for our mother language Bangla. After 1947 when the British left India, Bangladesh became a part of Pakistan. After that, the Bangladeshi people started struggling as a result of the illegal demands of Pakistani government. They were forcing us to forget our culture, our famous poets Rabindranath Thakur,
Nazrul Islam, Jasimuddin and many more. They were treating us like second class citizens. The
development of West Pakistan continued to grow and the opposite of them in Bangladesh (East Pakistan). The government of Pakistan started the process of discrimination.
In 1948 the government of Pakistan ordained Urdu as the sole national language, sparking extensive protests among the Bangladeshi. They all revolted for such an inconsiderate demand. In the year of 1948, Mohammad Ali Jinnah came to Dhaka and delivered a speech at the university of Dhaka. In his speech he declared that – “Let me make it very clear to you, it is no doubt that the state language of Pakistan is going to be Urdu and no other language. And anyone who tries to mislead you is really the enemy of Pakistan. …….PAKISTAN STATE LANGUAGE SHALL BE URDU.” It was a shocking order for all Bangladeshis. They started protesting against this illegal demand, and the leader Prof. Abul Kashem along with none other than father of the nation Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman along with!
Previously having gone to jail many times, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was arrested again for his demand to establish Bangla as the state language for all the Bangladeshis. He was arrested and was sent to prison on September 11th, 1948 and was set again free on January 21st the next year. While he was in jail, Mohammad Ali Jinnah had passed. Bongo Bondhu (meaning friend of
Bangladesh) Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was not only ‘Father of the Nation’, but a great warrior who fought to establish the Bangla language. Along with him, a large group of students and civilians protested against the demand of Jinnah and sacrificed their lives to save Bangla. They
saved our language by shedding blood.

A few days back, I came to know through a talk show that in the year of 1952 when our young generation (most of them were students) were protesting to establish Bangla language, they had
no idea about what the tear gas that was used on them was! How heartless Pakistani government
was – how can we forgive them? They killed our people on our land because we refused to speak Urdu. The people of Bangladesh wanted to speak and write Bangla instead of writing and speaking Urdu! Today we would have forgotten our culture and mother language if we would not fight to establish it in ’52.
We lost Borkot, Salam, Rafique, Jabbar and so many fighters for this wonderful language called Bangla.
On February 21s 1972, Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman went to our famous martyr
monument after the victory of the Bangladesh Pakistan-War to show his respect to all the Bhasha Shoinik (who fought for Bangla language) and was crying endlessly. He was crying with joy
because he thought that one could force us to speak in a foreign language, no one could put an
end to the perseverance of our innocent people (the protesters) who always stood by the country
when the country needed them.
Some years ago, I was watching a Bangladeshi news channel on TV here in the US. I saw a
politician was demonstrating against the recent Awami League government and was arrested by the police during her demonstration. When she was forced to get in the police car she was calling Sheikh Mujibur Rahman a dictator and was cursing him. I was astonished, how can she curse Sheikh Mujibur Rahman! How can she call him a dictator! If Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had not brought us Bangladesh by sacrificing his whole family how would we consider ourselves independent Bangladeshi instead of second class citizen of Pakistan ! How would we talk in our own language, Bangla ! How would we sing Bangla songs! How would we recite Bangla poems- if Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had not sacrificed most of his life by staying in prison for our culture, our poets, writers, our rights, our freedom, our nationality? How would we hold the flag of Bangladesh ? I know if Sheikh Mujibur Rahman would be alive on that day when the protester of the opposite political party was calling him a dictator and was cursing him in Bangla, he would be happy thinking: “at least we brought the freedom of speech, you may cursing your

own people in your own language Bangla.” why she was cursing Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Why was she calling him a dictator? If Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had not brought us Bangladesh by sacrificing his whole family how would we consider ourselves Bangladeshis instead of second class citizens of Pakistan? How would we talk in our language Bangla?, How would we sing Bangla songs? How would we recite Bangla poems – if Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had not sacrificed most of his life by staying in prison for our culture, our poets, writers, our rights, our freedom of speech, our nationality; how would we hold the flag of Bangladesh? I know if Sheikh Mujibur Rahman would be alive on that day when the protestor of the opposite political party was calling him a dictator and was cursing him in Bangla, he would be happy thinking: “at least we brought the freedom of speech, you may cursing your own people in your own language Bangla.”
I always consider pen to be the most powerful weapon. So, whenever I get chance to write something about the politics or the history of Bangladesh, I try never to mislay the opportunity. The 1971 Bangladesh-Pakistan War lasted only for nine months. India helped us a lot when our
people went to India for shelter. Not only that, India trained our young generations for fighting
against Pakistan. Indira Ghandi ordered to open the border when the Pakistani army started
killing Bangladeshis door to door. In particular, the Pakistani army was ordered to kill Hindus. Our house was opposite Ram Krishna, the Hindu Temple, where there was a school as well. My
siblings were students of that school. My parents had a very good relationship with the teachers
of that school. Some of them used to tutor my brothers after school. There was a hostel where
those teachers lived. When the war started, and the Pakistani army started searching for Hindus
door to door and killing them, I saw all the teachers came to our home by climbing the wall from
the temple side for shelter as the Pakistani Army went to their hostel in search for them. When they came to our house, all of them were shivering and was requesting my father to save their lives, wanting a safe shelter. They had the confidence that my father would help them.
My father was a kind soul and very helpful too. He already lost all his business. The Pakistan army burnt his shopping mall. All of his money was burnt on the midnight of March 25th, when my parents were celebrating the election victory of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. My father used to keep money in his office. He had no idea that the Pakistani army would attack Bangladesh

without notice. My father was very angry and upset against the Pakistani government. When the
teachers and the Hindu priests came to our home for shelter, my father assured them he would sacrifice his life to save them all. When they all came I was with my mother and was crying when I saw their fear. I heard my father was telling them boldly “Don’t worry. If they come to my house to kill you, they have to kill me first to reach you all. I will protect you all In Sha
Allah”.
I experienced a different father that night. He was bold, he was kind and was a real hero. Every day I salute my dad for what I saw in him that night.
My elder sister had a music teacher who was a Hindu. He was very good looking. He used to come to our house twice a week. My elder sister and second elder brother used to take music
lessons from him. He used to wear white outfit. I was a great admirer of him for his strong voice.
I used to observe my siblings while they were learning music. After March 25th, before we left Dhaka, one day he too came to our residence for shelter. As usual, my father gave him shelter with open arms and assured him he would be safe in our custody. Our residence was filled with lots of people who needed a safe place. It was like a small camp.
My parents were great followers of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, they both respected him a lot. As my mother was an active member of Awami League, my father asked her to leave Dhaka because the Pakistanis were killing those who were involved with Awami League. Furthermore, they were kidnaping Bengali women and taking them to their camp for amusement. They started raping the women of Bangladesh by keeping them in the camp, and whoever tried to escape from the camp – the Pakistani army killed them.
A few Bangladeshis did not want an independent country. They helped the Pakistani army by informing them the whereabouts of our freedom fighters. They also brought women to the Pakistani army for their amusement. Our freedom fighters are the ones who brought us
Bangladesh. Some of them were young men and women who had bright futures, but they did not care.

Chapter 3 Life in A Village
I still remember my mother, my siblings and I, under instructions of my father, lived in a remote
village for one year after the war started. During our stay in the village, I saw the freedom fighters taking shelter in the school built by my father under the order of my grandfather. During the war I used to see how the freedom fighters would undergo training to fight against the Pakistani army. My family members sent them food, my entire family had helped those freedom fighters, encouraging them to fight. I am proud of all those freedom fighters and proud of my family for being so brave and helpful.
It was after a few days of the Bangladesh-Pakistan war that my father requested my mother to leave Dhaka with us five siblings. It was tough for him without the family and no money because he lost his business as soon as the war began and we only had our Dhaka residence, nothing else. A number of relatives and friends of my parents came to our house for shelter from the war. My parents were trying their best to be accommodating. It was not easy having all those people under one roof, without money. All our guests were very happy because my parents were indeed excellent hosts.
My father was very concerned about my mother’s safety. She was very pretty, young and also involved with Awami League. When he was requesting her to leave Dhaka, she refused because she did not want to leave him alone. He kept on trying to convince her. At last she realized, that it would be for the best to stay in the village until things get better.
After many arguments, mother agreed to leave Dhaka but on the condition that our father would visit us in the village whenever he had the opportunity. When my parents promised this to each other, then we started a scary journey with our mother.
It was such a memorable journey that whenever I think about that journey, even today, after more than three decades, I have goosebumps…
It was most probably the first week of April in 1971 that my mother started the journey along
with her five children to spend a year on outskirts of Dhaka. We started our journey after breakfast. I was crying when I was leaving the house and leaving my dearest dad. My mother was very strong; – she was controlling her emotions. My dad was silent. When we all were getting into the car, I saw my father’s eyes were fill with tears. My heart was breaking, having to leave him alone. I could not utter a single word, the situation made me silent. We all were silent,
like robots, no words, no emotions. I saw my dad was upset, and was waving goodbye with tears. I will never forget that moment.
I can’t remember how long it took to reach the Demra Bridge. There was a river, my mother hired a boat to take us to the other side of the river. I saw a huge building near the river, there
was some army men walking on the roof. I was scared seeing this, and was holding my mother tight while checking the site frequently to see them. By the time we reached the middle of the river, I found that the men were gone. I became relaxed and started enjoying the views. I can’t remember how long it took to reach the other side of the river. When the boat docked, my mother was giving money to the sailor and it was then that I heard the sound of gunfire. I saw everyone was running to save their lives. My mother pulled my hand and started running. There was a brick factory nearby and we saw a huge pile of bricks in front of that factory. My mother took us
behind those pile of bricks. I saw there were many other civilians hidden behind to save their
lives like us.
I never expected to experience such a situation. I was thinking “What is going on!”. Today when
I am writing about my 71 war experiences, I feel proud of my mother for her bravery. She saved
our lives that evening. When we were behind the bricks, it was almost dark and I was listening to
Adhaan (Muslim prayer call). When the gun fire stopped, I saw pile of dead bodies and blood
gushing from them. I was scared and was crying while holding mom tight. Soon afterwards, as he was doing a head count of my siblings and me, she found my second elder brother was missing! We all started crying. I heard mom was calling out for him, “Mizan! Mizan!” But there
was no response. We became helpless.
We all lost our voice. It was like a nightmare. I saw my siblings had been crying and kept on
searching by running around. When we all became hopeless, we saw an old bearded man holding

my lost brother’s hand coming towards us. Seeing him we all cheered with joy and at the same
time still fearful of this horrible situation.
The bearded man told my mother that he found my brother running towards the woods when the
Pakistani army started firing. After getting him back we all start hugging and kissing him with joy. After that, we started walking towards an Uncle’s house. My Uncle and his family were
living in Norshingdi. Norshingdi was a district near Dhaka and my paternal Uncle and his family
were living there as he had a job in the jute mill there. We reached the house late at night. I forgot how long we had been living in that house.
After few days, we left our Uncle’s house on our way to the village. I remember running on a
muddy road to save our lives because the Pakistani army was chasing us. My mother and few
more Bangladeshis who we met on our way chose to take that muddy road because the Pakistani army would not be able to run on it.
My immediate elder brother who just had circumcision surgery had to run miles after miles. Seeing him run while sick made me very sad and also felt he was having severe pain because he
was bleeding and crying while running but we had no choice. We all had to run to get to a safe place.
After a long run we found a place in a nearby village. The villagers were very poor but had kind hearts. They gave us the best place to spend the night. I did not like the bed and was nagging with my mother. They gave us food. I did not like the food and kept on refusing to eat the food they gave us. Being the youngest member of the family, my mother did not scold me for my behavior. Actually I was tired and sad seeing the situation. We had a great life before March 25th, 1971 and I was wondering, within a night we became poor and were running here and there for a safe shelter. I was missing my father because I was very much fond of him, he was my everything. I left him alone in Dhaka and that was hurting me. I could not express my feelings to
anyone. There was a girl in that village every evening she used to sing for us after dinner. That
was so sweet of her because she had a beautiful voice and her music took us to a different land, it was so relaxing after a day of hardship. My mother used to call her nightingale because of her sweet voice.
When we were on the ferry to our grandparent’s village, the weather was very bad. There was a storm brewing. I was sitting with my mother, watching the huge waves of the river from the window of the ferry. It was very scary, I noticed by mother moving her lips – perhaps reciting
something… a prayer.
Everyone on board had been crying and was begging to God to save their lives. My mother, however, was a brave lady. She was not crying but reciting the name of God and holding me tight. I will never forget that ride. It was miracle that we reached our village without losing a
single family member. The credit should go to a brave lady, my mother.
After reaching our village, I was very happy because the village was so beautiful. After meeting my grandparents, I became happier. Both my maternal and paternal grandparents were living in the same village. It was a great fun for me having four grandparents at the same time! All of them had gray hair. I remember being a great admirer of gray hair since my childhood. I experienced that the gray haired people were very loving and caring. We had an elementary,
middle and high school in our village. Those schools were built in front of our houses where we
used to live when we were in the village during the war.
Every morning I used to visit the schools with my siblings. I had never been in any school before
so it was a great experience for me. I used to see many students come to the schools from different villages. I saw them reciting their multiplications, sitting on the field in front of the
school under the open sky. Sometimes I sat with them and tried to copy them
reciting
Reciting multiplications with the different ages of boys and girls under the open sky with the fragrance of green grass was a great experience for me. My mother told me that it was my grandfather’s wish to have a school in our village, especially for the girls who had to travel far for their schooling. So my grandfather established the school to encourage women’s education. He used to say, if you have an educated woman in your home, you don’t have to worry about your family. I am very proud of my grandfather and my father too who helped build
the school. Both of them were great human beings.
After a few days my dad came to the village to visit us. It was a very happy day for me. I used to
go everywhere with my dad, holding his hand. My father was a great personality and had a kind
heart. Some of the villagers used to come to our residence every day only to meet him. Even here, my parents being the great hosts that they were, held tea parties in the afternoons in our small new home. I did not like the new house but I did like the village. I must mention one thing, that my father used to miss me as much as I used to miss him. One day during his visit he was asking me with love, “Dear Sylvie do you know I always miss you? why don’t you meet me in my dream? At least I can enjoy your company there”. This is how my father loved me. Whenever I think about my father how he loved me and how much I loved him my heart keep on bleeding till today…..
At times, I visited the school with my dad. My dad used to talk with the teachers and the other officials of the school about how to run the school successfully and how to provide good education to the students. We had a beautiful pond in front of the school with a beautiful large
sitting arrangement. The pond was surrounded by lots of beautiful, matured tress. Every day I used to go to that pond with my dad and I watched my dad swim. He tried to teach me how to
swim but failed. Being a little girl, I was very scared of swimming. He used to help me take baths in that beautiful pond surrounded by lovely matured trees.
During our stay in the village my dad visited us three or four times until the war ended. My father was staying in Dhaka to start a new business. It was very tough for him because he had no money to start afresh. His life was very hard in Dhaka without his family and money. I understood that only after I grew up.
When the country was in trouble, cousin brothers of mine went to India to join the freedom fighters. A number of freedom fighters came to our village for training. They took shelter in my grandfather’s school, and I loved to see them train. Our villagers provided them with food. This is how we helped our freedom fighters during the 1971 War. I remember them saying ‘Joy, Bangla! Joy, Bongo Bondhu!’. ‘Joy Bangla’ was a very strong slogan for Bangladeshis. This was a unifying chant that used to bring lots of courage to all the freedom fighters and all the Bangladeshis.
One morning I went to school to see the freedom fighters training and found them gone. I was
upset for a few days, watching them train for war in the school field was a great inspiration for me. I had already known then that those freedom fighters were the real heroes. Every day I thank
them.
On a day during one of my father’s visits, I was sleeping and holding him tight. It was raining
cats and dogs and was thundering. The village began flooding with water. My mother woke me up, took me in her arms, and started running. She started begging my father to run as well. She said, “I am taking the kids along with me”. My dad did not listen to my mother. Instead he replied, “If I run, who is going to look after my parents?”.
My grandparents were old and unable to run. My mother kept on running holding me in her
arms. She had to walk in the muddy water that had almost reached her nose. It was tough for her to breathe. I still remember she was holding me up and was moving carefully so that I could
breathe.
Soon we reached a neighboring village. We stayed there for few hours, soaked from the journey. When we confirmed that the Pakistani army had left the village, we returned home. I saw my father drying money using a lantern. Seeing us alive my father’s eyes filled with tears and he kept on saying, “You all would have found me dead today. The Pakistani army was about to kill me. I don’t know why they changed their decision and left me alive”. I saw that day my parents were thanking Almighty for saving our family.
After a few months, my mother gave birth to a very cute baby boy. Sometimes when I am sitting
alone thinking of those days when my mother was running here and there, holding me in her
arms, to save our lives from the bullets of Pakistani army, I realize how tough it was for her while she was pregnant. It was much later that I realized she was pregnant during the war. What a brave and loving mother she was! With one body, she was trying to save three lives! My unborn brother, my young self and her own! I am grateful to Almighty in my every breathing
that he gave me such a brave and caring mother.

Chapter 4 My Parents, My Heroes
We had a tough life during the war and for many years after it. My mother struggled to save our lives in many desperate situations, while risking her own. But I never saw her regretting it. She had a luxurious life before the 71 War. Our relatives used to call her ‘Queen Victoria’ for her
almost-regal lifestyle. My father treated her like a royal.
Being great fans of Sheik Mujibur Rahman, my parents involved themselves in Awami League political party only for his leadership. Indeed, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman a great leader, the father of our nation who declared an independent Bangladesh, who sacrificed his young life in jail only for the freedom and establish the rights of Bangladeshi people. I remember seeing my mother
crying the day Bongo Bondhu and his family were assassinated. She woke me up in the morning the day Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family was killed saying “Wake up Sylvie! Bongo
Bondhu is no more!”. I was a little girl and had no understanding of what had happened. I saw
my mother was crying in the evening after she finished her usual duties. I saw her lying in bed as
tears streamed down her face.
My loving mother passed away on August 17″, 2011. On August 15, 2011, I called her from the US and found her crying while talking to me. I asked her why she was crying. She responded “I am watching TV… how brutally they killed him! (Sheikh Mujibur Rahman) … and his family!”. She was watching Channel I, a Bangladeshi TV channel airing a documentary on how Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family was murdered. In our last conversations my mother and I talked about Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his contribution to Bangladesh. I called her twice after that call on the 15h. She passed away just two days later.
My siblings and I now live in the US. We are very happy here. We love USA as we love Bangladesh. We love Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman as much as we love our parents.
He brought us Bangladesh, a beautiful small country with a large population, struck by numerous natural disasters. I like to think that we never give up. We always fight back. We are small in size but have big hearts. We welcome our guests with open arms. We love to share food with our
guests. We never eat without feeding our guests first. That is how we Bangladeshis are. I believe
that is why Sheikh Mujibur Rahman loved his people.
We achieved freedom from Pakistan on December 16th, 1971. Every year on this date, we
celebrate Victory Day. India helped us obtain this freedom from Pakistan. I strongly believe that if India had not opened their border to give shelter to our people, our people would be lost. I
wonder what would happen then! Mrs. Indira Gandhi became a mother of all Bangladeshis. I personally salute her for her great contribution. I salute all those Indian soldiers who sacrificed
their lives to bring us SONAR BANGLA (Golden Bangladesh). Our young generations
sacrificed their bright future to bring us Bangladesh. Some of them returned, some of them did not. We had Rumi, Jewel, Azad, and Joti… A number of brave members of the younger
generations went for war without any pressure from anybody. They joined the war for the sake of
humanity. They could not stay home when they saw how the Pakistani army was brutally killing the innocent civilians and raping women of all ages, how the Pakistani army was destroying the
properties of Bangladesh. Rumi, Azad, Jewel and Joti were arrested by the Pakistani army and
never came back. They were killed brutally and their bodies never returned to their families. We
are proud of Rumi, Azad, Jewel and Joti and so many freedom fighters who did not care for their bright future only to take revenge and bring us Bangladesh.
There was a very famous freedom fighter named Nasiruddin Yusuf Bachchu. He was describing how a teenage freedom fighter helped Bangladesh during the war. The 14-year-old named Tipu
experienced the death of his brother by the Pakistan army.
The Pakistanis killed his brother in front of him with a bayonet. They stabbed him 14 to 16 times until he died. After experiencing that brutal murder, Tipu joined the freedom fighters to fight against the Pakistani army. He was not allowed in the battlefield; he was only allowed to give
assistance to the freedom fighters during an operation. He was a brave boy and wanted to fight
against the Pakistani army to take revenge for his brother who was murdered. Tipu requested the
freedom fighters to allow him join the operation. He had no reason for living since his brother was killed in front of him. He used to hate the Pakistani army because he saw how they were destroying our motherland.
There was a huge operation coming up. The Pakistani army had the ammunition and soldiers to
easily win. Compared to that, Bangladeshis had a few freedom fighters and very little weapons.
Tipu managed to get hold of a machine gun and was waiting to get the permission to join the freedom fighters in the battlefield. He took the opportunity and kept on requesting the freedom fighters to allow him to join against the Pakistani army. The commander of the operation gave Tipu permission to join them. Tipu joined that operation and fought like a royal Bengal tiger against the huge numbers of Pakistani army who were equipped with modern arms. That day Tipu sacrificed his life fighting against the Pakistanis. Before he died, he killed many of the Pakistanis to make his dream come true. He saved all his senior fighters by giving his life. This is how our Bangladeshi people have fought against the Pakistani army and saved Bangladesh from Pakistan. As long as Bangladesh will survive in on a global map, these freedom fighters will
remain in our heart as heroes.
I was a little girl when I experienced the 71 war. God has given me an observation power that’s
why even after 46 years, I can write my memories that I remember so clearly. I saw how we
became poor in one night, how my family escaped from Dhaka, how we lost our Dhaka residence, how my dad died after the War, how my mother struggled to raise her six kids without any shelter and a single penny. I experienced how my Uncles were trying to separate us from my mother as we had nothing to survive. We had no right to say that we wanted to stay with our
mother. It was my mother who did not allow our relatives to separate us from her. It was my
mother who took the bold decision to keep us with her and raised us by sacrificing the rest of her
life.
She was only 31 years old when she became a widow. One morning, when we were staying in my Uncle’s house in Dhaka because we had nowhere to go after my father’s death, my mother was having a meeting with her brothers about which of our siblings would be taken under their
custody.
Playing with my cousin, I watched my mother cry. As a little girl I could not understand what was going on inside the room or why my mother was crying. Now I am older and everything is clear to me. I know what was going on inside the room that day and why my mother was crying.
It was my mother who did not allow our relatives to destroy our childhood by taking us away. It
was our mother who raised us with dignity, it was our mother who never bought anything for
herself but gave us a good education, culture, taught us manners. Now my siblings and I are living in United States of America, the best country in the world! It was our mother who did not stop us from coming to the US for our better future. She allowed us to come here, sacrificing her
time with her children for the better future of her grandchildren.
Freedom was ours on December 16, 1971. Seeing everyone happy for the victory, I felt so happy. After the victory, I was eagerly waiting for my father’s return. I knew that he would take us to Dhaka because the war was over and we would be safe there. My mother was also mentally prepared for going back to Dhaka.
Our freedom fighters, with the help of the Indian army, brought us Bangladesh within 9 months.
9 months was not a long time for a war but those 9 months of war took everything from us. We lost our home. Some Bangladeshis who did not want an independent Bangladesh took over our beautiful old fashioned house with the help of the Pakistan army in the middle of the war. My
father was in the village at the time this happened. He came to visit us and we got the bad news. I
saw him quiet after he had heard, while my mother was crying and wondered what would happen to us now. Seeing her cry, father assured her that he would make everything right again. He
again said it would be a fresh start and mother should not be worried for anything as long as he
would be alive. I was playing there and witnessed everything.
My baby brother was born a month after the war ended. It was January 24th, and I woke up that morning to the sound of a baby crying. It was my baby brother! Seeing a new born baby, I felt so
happy. He was very cute. I thought, “I have a toy to play with!”. After a few days, my father arrived in the village and became very happy to see my baby brother. Father stayed in the village for a week then returned to Dhaka. Before he returned, he told my mother that he would take us to Dhaka soon. He also said he would rent a house in Dhaka and we all will live there.
My mother was very happy after the victory of Bangladesh and for the new family member too. I was so excited seeing my baby brother. I considered him a living toy. After the War my mother
was getting ready to go back to Dhaka. My siblings and I were very happy to know that we were going back to our normal life. Dad was supposed to come on March 20th to bring us back to
Dhaka.
On March 2014, 1972, I woke up early in the morning to the sound of my siblings crying. My mother and grandmother were lying unconscious. I saw one of my cousin brothers was standing in a corner with a sad face. I went to him asked him what had happened. Why was everyone
crying? What happened to my mother and grandmother? My cousin brother held me in his arms
and said with tears, “uncle is no more”. I did not quite understand the meaning of “uncle is no
more”, but I started crying seeing everyone crying. Today when I am writing about how I experienced the death of my most favorite person in this world, my fingers are not moving. My eyes are dry, but my heart is bleeding. How can I make anyone understand how I felt that moment when I saw my father’s dead body that day? Noon on March 20th, 1972 – my father was supposed to take us back to Dhaka, to bring us back our normal life. He came, but as a dead
body.
Until I saw the dead body of my father arrive in the village, I would sometimes cry with my
family members, and sometimes I would play with my cousins who were as old as me.
I saw my dad laying in a coffin. I kept on crying seeing him in the coffin. The man who was the greatest person to me, to this day – the thought of him lying in a coffin is my saddest memory. My father was buried the same day in our family graveyard. The graveyard w school. All my relatives were buried there. Many years later my mother was buried there too. The next morning my mother and the six of us siblings went to the graveyard. Everyone was crying endlessly. I put my hands over his grave and cried. While crying I felt like holding my dad in my arms, I can’t remember how long we had been crying there…
During the war one of my uncle was killed by the traitors [his name was Abul Kalam Chowdhury]. His fault was that he used to support the freedom fighters by giving them food,
money and sometimes shelter. During the war, while he was enjoying dinner the Razakars
(traitors to Bangladesh) came to his home, dragged him out, took him a few miles away and shot
him dead. My mother wanted to rescue him when she heard the bad news but failed because my siblings and the other family members stopped her to rescue my uncle who was brutally killed by
the traitors. My mother was a brave lady no doubt about it.
My uncle was killed by the traitors, so was my father. The irony was the difference between two deaths were, my uncle was killed while the war was going on and my father was killed after the
war by a traitor in independent Bangladesh!! After the death of my father, we returned to Dhaka and stayed in my uncle’s house for a few months. One day I overheard my mother discussing
with one of my uncles that my father might have been poisoned by a Razakar.
My father scolded that traitor for being unfaithful to the country. He threatened that man to be punished for his unfaithful activities towards the country. He was an assistant doctor of my father’s friend. My father had an accident on March 19th, 1971. That’s why he went to his friend’s chambers to get an injection as a precautionary measure, as my father was supposed to go to our village to bring us back to Dhaka.
When he arrived at the doctor’s office, his friend was busy with another patient. My father was in a hurry and wanted to get the job done quickly so he could be on his way to the village to pick us up and bring us back to Dhaka. He accepted the injection from the doctor’s assistant to make things faster. That assistant doctor injected poison instead of anything medicinal. I heard my father died right after the injection. When my family members who were living in Dhaka found out that my dad was killed by a traitor, they did not file a case against him. This was because my family members did not want to send his body for a postmortem.
After a few months when we had been staying in my uncle’s house, one sunny morning my mother took me and my immediate elder brother to that doctor’s chambers where my dad took his last breath. We went there because the doctor wanted to visit us for apology but he was scared to face us. My parents both were very courageous and forgiving, that’s why my mother decided to meet that doctor and wanted to know how my dad passed away and what he said, if
anything, when he was taking last breath.
When we reached at doctor’s chambers I saw that assistant doctor was working there. I found him tall, fair and handsome, he had a mustache. I could not utter a single word and instead, looked at him with fear.
I saw my mother was crying while she was talking to the doctor. Me and my brother both kept
We were speechless. When I saw that assistant doctor for the first time, I felt the world
become colorless. Even though it was a sunny day, it felt dark. Sometimes I still wonder why my father’s friend kept that assistant doctor in his job after that incident? Why wasn’t he fired? Was his friend involved with the accident? Was it a murder case? We know nothing about how my dad died that day in March. We had no one who would bring us justice. My mother was helpless after losing her husband, and we were too young to do anything. My father passed away on March 19th, 1972. When he passed away, Bangladesh was a free country. The saddest part of my life was, that my father was killed by a traitor, in independent Bangladesh.
My mother remained strong even though all she had was her six children. She rented a house, started a food business and sent us to good schools. She was offered an abandoned property by
the present government of the time as she and my father were active members of Awami League
political party, who was in power after the War. My mother refused to accept that abandoned
property because she thought that living there would bring her children bad luck. Perhaps those
houses were abandoned because Pakistanis living in Bangladesh had to flee as well. Since my childhood, I had noticed that my mother was a woman of principle. Although we had no shelter,
still she would not accept a home that was abandoned by Pakistanis.
She tried her best to give us a good education and culture. She was a great lady, she sacrificed her life only for our better future. 9 years back when my siblings and I got US immigration, my mother did not hesitate to encourage us to come here for better future. If Bangladesh Pakistan War would not happen, then we would not experience the greatness of my mother, the sacrifices
of our young generations.
Maybe Bangladesh is a small country, but Bangladeshis are very courageous. That’s why when the Pakistan army attacked us with heavy weapons, tanks and fighter planes, the youth of Bangladesh fought back without any weapon but with courage. I will be keep on thanking all the freedom fighters of our country and the Indian soldiers, who are still alive and who are no more till my last breath for bringing us a free country Bangladesh by fighting against the Pakistan army.
Chapter 5 The Lives of Others
After liberation War we got independent Bangladesh. Father of the nation Bongo Bondhu Sheikh
Mujibur Rahman came back to Bangladesh after 9 months of being prisoned in Pakistan. Before
he arrived in Bangladesh, he met Indira Gandhi and requested her to move her armed force from
Bangladesh. Indira Gandhi kept his request and moved back the Indian army from Bangladesh. It
was a great achievement of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. He was a great leader and a great speaker. I miss him like I miss my parents. When he got the power of independent Bangladesh, Bangladesh
was like a sick new born baby because the Pakistani army killed many educated people to
destroy the backbone of Bangladesh. Not only that, they destroyed many bridges and the
important buildings of our country. We had a famine. It was a huge mess when Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was in power. He tried his best to develop the country but we Bangladeshis did not give him chance to prove himself. He was very much concerned about the farmers of Bangladesh. He had a soft corner for them, he always wanted to give them good opportunities to produce food for the country. It was our bad luck we did not give him opportunities to help the farmers and also help us!
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman never thought that he would be killed within three and half years after the independence of Bangladesh. He believed his people more than he used to believe himself.
That’s why he used to live in a private house with his family without proper security. The irony
is, he was killed by opportunist armies of Bangladesh and his most favorite person Khondokar Mushtaq Ahmed. They killed him with the instruction of some foreign countries who did not want Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to rule Bangladesh. Those opportunist armies and Khondokar Mushtaq Ahmed wanted to rule Bangladesh after the victory of 1971 Bangladesh Pakistan War. Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was warned by Indira Gandhi and Fidel Castro that his life was in danger but he did not believe them, he thought his people loved him as much as he loved his people. It is sad that he was betrayed.
After the assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman the political situation became very different.
Some political parties tried to destroy the birth history of Bangladesh, tried to erase the name of

Sheikh Mujibur Rahman from the history of Bangladesh, tried to ruined the achievements he brought for Bangladesh. From 1975 to 1996, the freedom fighters who brought us a free
Bangladesh became scared to introduce themselves as freedom fighters. The circumstances of that era made them scared. People of Bangladesh stopped saying “Joy Bangla”. It was a slogan of all the Bangladeshis who wanted an independent nation. Saying “Joy Bangla” before an operation in the battlefield was a form of encouragement to the freedom fighters against the Pakistanis. Some Bangladeshi still hate to say Joy Bangla, what an irony! Now many Bangladeshis love to call themselves freedom fighters even though they had never been in the
battlefield during the 71 war. Recent political changes made this happen. Our current
government is giving the proper honor to all the freedom fighters who are with us and those who
are in heaven. People now understand that the freedom fighters of Bangladesh are the real heroes. I am proud of my country Bangladesh and proud of all our real heroes.
When we had the 71 liberation war against Pakistan for a free Bangladesh, Bangladeshis fought with all their efforts against the injustice of the Pakistani government. We got victory within 9 months even though certain groups of Bangladeshis did not want a free country. They helped Pakistan and their armies to not be apart from Pakistan. They were unsuccessful because some
our soldiers sacrificed their blood and lives to bring us Bangladesh. It was a huge sacrifice of
those good souls, I want to write about some of them.

Gopesh Malaker – an artist, ceramist, illustrator, educator, thinker, social worker, organizer,
activist and politician. Since early age he dedicated decades for the wellbeing of poor and

unprivileged people of a land that is now Bangladesh, and its independence. Gopesh Malaker sacrificed prime years of his teenhood and youth during 1946-1956 in detention and imprisonment – firstly for the rights and independence of British India from almost 200 years of British colonial rules; and after the partition of British India in 1947, for the rights and independence of East Pakistan from West Pakistan.
British East India Company and later British Crown ruled India since 1757 until partitioning it in 1947 into two countries – Muslim majority Pakistan with two provinces in west and east separated by Hindu majority India in the middle, just based on predominant religions. Less populated Urdu speaking West Pakistan suppressed and virtually ruled Bengali speaking East Pakistan since 1947 until its independence on the 16th December 1971, forming Bangladesh.
British India comprised of three present-day countries – India, Pakistan and Bangladesh.
Gopesh Malaker was born on Monday, 17th September 1928, in Bagbari, a village in Chhatak subdistrict of Sylhet – a hilly district in North-East Bangladesh, then in British India. He started
socio-political activism in 1941 at age 13. He was first detained in September 1946 at age 18 by
the British for leading a demonstration in Chhatak demanding release of Captain Rashid Ali of Indian National Army (INA), who was imprisoned for life igniting India-wide protests. INA was formed by Netaji Subash Chandra Bose, the renowned Indian nationalist leader.
After the partition of India in 1947, West Pakistan started suppressing East Pakistan in every way, and in 1948 ordained Urdu as the sole national language replacing Bengali, the mother tongue in the East. This immediately sparked a “Language Movement” in Dhaka (then Dacca), the capital of the East, and next spread to Sylhet city; by 1952 the movement spread to all regions in the East Pakistan. In January 1949 Gopesh Malaker was arrested in Sylhet for the second time during Government crackdowns on the Language Movement, and particularly on progressive and liberal leaders and activists; this round he was locked-up until late 1953. At the height of the movement several protesting students were killed by police on the 21 February 1952; ever since the day is observed as “Language Martyrs Day”. In 1999 UNESCO declared February 21 as “International Mother Language Day” which is now observed world-wide each year.

During 1946-1956 Gopesh Malaker was detained, arrested and imprisoned five times for organizing, fundraising, campaigning, protesting and participating in demonstrations for the East and its poor populace. During 1948-49 he was in charge of publicity for the “Nanka Movement” in Sylhet district; Nankas were the slave laborers of Jamindars, rich landholders. While in prison he witnessed the infamous firing and killings at Khapra Ward of Rajshahi Jail in 1950. He spent about 7 years in total as political prisoner, including solitary confinement. Love for his country, language, culture and people sent him from prison to prison.
Gopesh Malaker enrolled to Government Institute of Arts in Dhaka in late 1956, right after his final release from prison. He completed Bachelor of Fine Arts in 1961 and Ceramics in 1963. He taught ceramics at the institute during 1965-1966; then he started working as freelance artist,
designer and illustrator. He designed and illustrated numerous books.
Around midnight of 25th March 1971, West Pakistan invaded East Pakistan and launched inhumane Operation Searchlight – the start of genocide and 9-month long ethnic and minorities cleansing. By April resistant started, and in early May 1971 Gopesh Malaker escaped to India along with a group of young Mukti Bahini (Freedom Fighters); he helped there with organizing and publicity during the Liberation War of Bangladesh. In early 1972 he returned to a newborn
country – Bangladesh.
After Liberation Gopesh Malaker got his old job back, teaching ceramics during 1972-1980 at the newly renamed Bangladesh College of Arts & Crafts (now Charukola). During 1980-1994 he
served in the Executive Committee of Palli Shishu Foundation (Rural Children Foundation), an NGO providing medical, educational and other helps to rural children.
Gopesh Malaker is a husband, father, father-in-law and grandfather. In 1960 he married fellow classmate Adeline Malaker (née Dias) – an artist, crafter, educator, writer, organizer, and children & women rights activist. They have two sons and two grandsons, living in Canada and USA. After retirement Gopesh Malaker moved to Canada in 1995 to be with family. Currently
Mr. & Mrs. Malaker live in Canada, spending time in USA and Bangladesh.
In 2016 Charukola, The Department of Fine Arts of Dhaka University, launched annual “Gopesh Malaker Award” for the best work in Ceramic Art; a rare and great honor to a living artist and educator.
Many famous and well-known Bangladeshi artists, writers, poets, intellectuals, politicians are/were among his friend circles.
At age 91 Gopesh Malaker in good health. He regularly plays chess and Scrabble online, watches and reads news of his beloved Bangladesh, and reflects back on his eventful and colorful life.
Bangabir Kader Siddique
Abdul Kader Siddique, born 1948, fought in the 1971 Bangladesh-Pakistan war and often hailed as Bagha (tiger) Kader for his great contribution as a freedom fighter Bangladesh liberation war. He was called Bangabir (Hero of Bengal). Bangabir Kader Siddique is a famous fighter and organizer of the Bangladesh Liberation War. Siddique has to be decorated as BIR UTTAM by the government of Bangladesh. He organized and fought with an estimated 10000- strong guerrilla force in the Tangail region against Pakistan Army. Kader Siddique’s force was called Kaderia Bahini.
At the end of the war, on December 16th, Siddique’s forces entered Dhaka along with Indian
forces to signal the end of the war.
Siddique and his guerrilla group beat up and then bayoneted and shot to death a group of prisoners (who they claimed as traitors) after a rally held near Dhaka stadium on December 19th,
at which Siddique himself gave an hour long speech. The prisoners were murdered after
performing Islamic prayers together with their captors, according to the same source, shortly before murdering them, the Mukti Bahini (freedom fighters) promised the prisoners “a fair trial, as in any civilized country”.
The irony was after the assassination of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman on August 15th, 1975 the Razakars were freed and gradually they were becoming the powerful leaders of Bangladesh during the government of that era (1975 to 1996). It was Sheikh Hasina the daughter
of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman who gave justice to those Bangladeshi who had been crying to get the justice after 1971 liberation war. The Iron Lady Sheikh Hasina made Bangladesh sin-free by hanging those Razakars after she became the Prime Minister of
Bangladesh. During the trial, Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina had to face pressure from foreign
countries to stop the trial. Sheikh Hasina did not listen to them and kept her promise by hanging the War traitors. We Bangladeshis are very proud of her because she gave us justice by risking her life.
After the assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in 1975, Siddique and his followers organized
an attack on the authorities of Khondokar Mushtaque’s Government, the mastermind conspirators of the assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family. Those who were followers of Siddique operated from bases in Assam province in India and were actively supported by Indian security forces.
Siddique was an MP in the parliament of Bangladesh. Now he has his own political party named Krishok Shromik Janata League. At the end I must say he was a great fighter and we Bangladeshis should be grateful to him for bringing us SONAR BANGLA, the dream of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
Shafi Imam Rumi (March 29th, 1951 to September 30th, 1971)
Shafi Imam Rumi was a guerrilla fighter of the Bangladesh Liberation war. He was born in an upper middle class family of Jahanara and Sharif Imam. Rumi passed his School Secondary certificate and Higher Secondary Certificates from Adamji Cantonment School and College in 1968. He stood third in the Pakistan education board. During his college days Rumi joined the University Officer Training Core along with his friends. He was very bright and later he got the rank of Sergeant. As he was a very bright student so he got admitted in Engineering College by March 1971. Rumi was very much in love with Bangladesh and its people. When he was experiencing the Pakistan army brutally killing the innocent civilians of Bangladesh and raping the women, he could not stop himself from thinking about the innocent lives, especially the women of Bangladesh. Rumi constantly requested his mother to give him permission to join the war. Rumi’s mother finally agreed and asked her son to go for the war. It was April 19th, 1971 when Rumi went to India and took training in Malaghar Agartala under Sector 2. He was trained by Khaled Musharraf and Rashid Haider. After his training he came to Dhaka to join the Crack
Platoon, a guerrilla group who conducted major guerrilla operations against the Pakistan army.
Rumi participated in a hit and run attack. Rumi and his friends carried out a successful assault on the Pakistanis, shooting and killing soldiers from the back window of a black Morris Oxford and
then giving the pursuers the slip. The whole street of Dhanmondi gentry celebrated it.
After the operations Rumi became a hero to his fellow warriors. Rumi was arrested by captain Quayyum while he was staying at home on August 29th, 1971. Most of the guerrilla fighters were
arrested with Rumi based on their information from an unknown source. His father, younger brother named Jami and a cousin were also arrested. Rumi and his colleagues Azad, Jewel and
others were tortured seriously by the Pakistani army. The Pakistani army kept Rumi and his colleagues in a small room somewhere near or inside a hostel in the Dhaka Cantonment. There Rumi was accompanied by many other victims. He met artist Altaf Mahmud, Abul Ba
colleagues Azad, Jewel and others. Rumi explained to his father and brother Jami while he was
arrested and already tortured by the Pakistani army that the army already is fully aware of his
operations and he and his colleagues Bodi who were also a freedom fighters and was arrested with Rumi took all the responsibilities of the attack. Rumi advised his father and brother to
inform the army that they were completely unaware of his activities.
Rumi’s cousin who was arrested with them was freed on September 2nd of 1971 reportedly
because he was able to show a bus ticket which incidentally was in his pocket and proved him not be a permanent resident of Rumi’s house. Rumi’s father and his brother were freed on September 4th and came back home with harrowing tales of torture. Some sources claim that that a number of arrested freedom fighters were executed at midnight of September 4th of 1971 and Rumi had been one of them.
As Yahya Khan was set to announce mass mercy on September 5th 1971, many family relatives asked for a mercy petition for Rumi to the government. Rumi’s parents took the suggestion and thought over but later decided to not do so because they considered it to be a dishonor to Rumi’s view and ideology. Rumi’s father passed away under a heart attack on December 13th, 1971. It was a great loss for Jahanara Imam who was a loving mother to Rumi. She sacrificed her bright son for Bangladesh and its people. As a Bangladeshi, I will always respect Rumi and his family as long as I will survive.
Rumi, we will never forget you and will always be proud of your family who did not kneel to the Pakistani government to beg for your mercy.
Jahanara Imam (May 3rd, 1929 to June 26th, 1994)
Jahanara Imam was the mother of Shafi Imam Rumi who was helping Bangladesh achieve freedom by joining the liberation war. It was Jahanara Imam who gave her son permission to join the war to bring a free Bangladesh. Jahanara Imam knew that her son might not come back from
the battlefield. Even so, she sent her son to the battlefield.
When Rumi and his friends were arrested by the Pakistani Army and was in the police camp for the interrogation, Rumi took all the blame on his shoulder to save his brother and father as they were arrested along with him. Later his cousin, father and brother were freed but Rumi was not. It was Jahanara Imam who thought her son to be a great human being, Rumi showed our Nation how to make parents and the country proud by sacrificing his life for the country.
The irony was, it was a Bangladeshi national who informed the Pakistani army about Rumi and
his friends (who were guerrilla fighters, and also informed them where they were. The Pakistan
army arrested Rumi and his friends from their house because they were correctly informed by the Bangladeshi war criminals. Later that informer convinced the Pakistani army to kill them all.
Their bodies were not returned to their families. It was a tragic loss.
When Bangladesh was freed after December 16″, 1971 the proud parents could not find the graveyard of their brave child. Perhaps the graves of those war heroes can never be found but
their invisible presence will remain in to the heart of those Bangladeshi people (who wanted a free country Bangladesh during the 1971 liberation war) as long as Bangladesh can stand strong
in front of the rest of the world.
Jahanara Imam wrote a few books based on her memories of 1971 Bangladesh Pakistan War. “The Days of Seventy-One” was one of her famous books. Jahanara Imam however, did not
allow her personal loss weaken her quest for the justice when the war criminals began to return to the political scene of the country. Jahanara Imam demanded the trail of war criminals. She started her movement in January 1992 after Ghulam Azam, then a Pakistani citizen was
appointed Jammat chief in December 1991. It soon turned into a mass movement and led to the
formation of people’s court, where Ghulam Azam the mastermind of the atrocities during the
war, was tried. After that BNP government took hardline against the court and filed a sedition
case against its 24 organizers including Jahanara Imam. Jahanara Imam died in 1994 suffering from cancer with the burden of sedition charge. The case was withdrawn around two years later
when Justice Habibur Rahman-led care taker government was in office.
Thirty nine years later, the Al- led 18 parties alliance began the much awaited trial of war criminals. They all were convicted (who were helping the Pakistani army during the liberation war for arresting the freedom fighters, educated people and collecting the girls and women for the amusement of Pakistani army) got death sentence.
Rumi, his father, brother, cousin were arrested along with his co-freedom fighters. They were being tortured by the Pakistani army for information at the army camp in the old MP hostel in Nakhalpara. On August 30th, 1971, Mujaheed with another Jamat e Islami leader Motiur Rahman
Nizami requested an army captain that the detainees should be killed before the mass mercy
announce by the President of Pakistan. Mojaheed’s request worked and Pakistan army killed Rumi, Bodi, Jewel, Azad and Altaf Mahmud at the army camp set up in Nakhalpara. The dead bodies of the freedom fighters and Altaf Mahmud were never found, even after the victory day on December 16th, 1971.
When Awami League government won the election in 2008, before the election Sheikh Hasina made a promise to the people of Bangladesh that if they would win the election then Awami League government will give justice to the victims of 1971 war by punishing the war criminals. It was one of the main promise to the people of Bangladesh from the Awami League political
party before the elections. In July 17th, 2013, Ali Ahsan Muhammad Mujaheed was found guilty
if the war crimes such as genocide, conspiracy in killing intellectuals, torture and ab
during 1971 liberation war of Bangladesh by the international war tribunal-2 and was sentenced to death for 2 of the 5 charges brought against him. Mujaheed was found guilty on the charge related to the killing of Rumi, Bodi, Jewel, Azad and Altaf Mahmud.
According to jail officials and the minister for justice Mujaheed asked for mercy in a petition to the president of Bangladesh, but his appeal was rejected. But his family claimed that Mujaheed did not ask for mercy to the president and it was a lie from the government. November 22nd 2015 Mujaheed was executed at the age of 67 at Dhaka central jail. After his execution the people of Bangladesh who were waiting for the justice for Rumi, Bodi, Jewel, Azad, Altaf Mahmud and more 71 war victims for more than 43 years could breathe happily and then congratulate the
Awami League government who brought justice. It was Jahanara Imam who raised her voice to
attain justice for those war heroes who sacrificed their lives. If Jahanara Imam would not raise
her voice against the war criminals, I wonder how long it would take to bring justice.
Thanks to Sheikh Hasina and her government who took the bold decision to bring justice to those
families who lost their loved ones during the war. Sheikh Hasina helped Bangladesh become sinfree by hanging the war criminals.
Martyr Magfer Ahmed Chowdhury Azad (1946 to 1971)
Azad was born in a rich family. His father was an engineer and mother was Safia Begum. Azad had an elder sister who died at an early age. Azad was only son. He was very fond of Elvis Presley. Watching movies was one of his favorite hobbies. He was very attached to his mother, which is why when his father remarried, he moved into a rented apartment with Safia Begum.
Azad went to Pakistan for higher education. In Karachi, Azad saw the miserable discrimination
between West Pakistan and East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). Azad realized while living in West Pakistan those people never accepted the easterners as brothers. When the liberation war started, Azad joined the war with concerns about his mother. Azad heard how the Pakistani army raped the girls and women in the Razarbag police line. Every evening they used to bring girls and women to the police line for the Pakistani army and they waited for the women like hungry
animals. Azad’s uncle was a member of the police and he informed Azad about this cruel part of the Pakistani army.
With his mother’s consent, he too joined the Crack Platoon and carried out major operations with
Rumi, Jewel, Azad and Bodi…
August 29th, 1971 Azad was arrested with some of his friends while they were sleeping in his home. It was a dark night. They had already aided in combats against the Pakistanis army. A
group of men came to his home and woke him and his friends up and began beating them. They
dragged Azad and his friends to the prison van. Safia Begum watched as they tortured her son, and fainted as a result.
While in their capture, Azad was interrogated about the Crack Platoon’s planned operations, but he did not leak any information. They decided to bring Safia Begum to Ramna Police Station to make Azad vulnerable and provide the information they were seeking. She controlled her emotions as she witnessed the severity of the bruises on Azad, but she was torn inside. Upon speaking with Azad, she told him to never disclose anything about his friends and the operation. Azad agreed and informed her of the Bangladeshi traitors who were actively trying to convince him to speak out.
Despite everything, Safia Begum could not bear to see her son in this condition. She told him, “when they beat you, be strong. Don’t utter a single word. Don’t inform them of anything”. He
nodded and responded, “Maa, I want to eat rice. I have not eaten rice in two days”. Her eyes
filled with tears and she said, “I will bring you food tomorrow”.
The next day Safia Begum went to the police station with food, but Azad was nowhere to be found. She searched everywhere, she knocked all the doors where Azad might be, but he was
gone. All she wanted was to bring her only son a cup of his favorite food, steamed rice…
Azad was killed that night by the Pakistani Army, after Safia Begum met Azad for the last time and advised him not to disclose the information of their guerrilla group. Azad listened to his mother, that’s why he was killed. He was killed with his friends that very night. It was the same
night that the Pakistani army killed Azad, Rumi, Jewel, Bodi and others. It was September 30th. The world stopped moving, the birds were crying, the sky wanted to disappear, the moon stopped sparkling, the trees closed their eyes, the sun was screaming and threatening the world that he will not rise in the morning, the sea became ferocious. Bangladesh lost so many brilliant young men that night. Men who were ready to die for their Sonar Bangla (Golden Bangladesh or land
of gold]
Safia Begum survived for 14 years after that night. Within these 14 years she never ate rice and never slept on a bed. She remembered her starving son who wanted a meal of rice and who complained about not getting a bed to sleep on while in prison. She could not bear such a thought
and spent the rest of her years sleeping on the floor at night.

Salik Sobhan lives in LA with his family since 1979. He was born in Sylhet. Sylhet is a big city in Bangladesh. It is famous for the tomb of Hazrat Shahjalal and Hazrat Shahparan. Salik Sobhan went to Great Britain at his early age for a better future. When Bangladesh and Pakistan war
began Salik Sobhan was in Great Britain and was only eleven years old.
When the war began all Bangladeshis who were living in UK got very emotional to help the country and its people. They were already aware of the injustice of Pakistani government since 1947. The Pakistani government had been torturing Bangladesh and its people since Bangladesh
was a part of Pakistan.
When The Pakistani army attacked the innocent civilians of Bangladesh on the night of March 25th 1971, except a few countries, the whole world became so shocked seeing the brutality of Pakistani army.
The Bangladeshi people who were living in the UK decided to protest against the genocide of Pakistan government. So they marched towards London from Manchester, Birmingham and more cities of Great Britain. They gathered at Hyde Park of London to show their protest to the British government of the genocide of Pakistan government. They marched to 10 Downing Street from Hyde Park as part of that demonstration. London was almost closed down for the great demonstrations of the Bangladeshi people against the genocide of Pakistan. The Bangladeshi people had been chanting “NOT A PENNY, NOT A GUN – TIKKA, BHUTTO, IYAHIYA
KHAN”.
When all the Bangladeshi people gathered in London an eleven year old little Bangladeshi boy
joined the gathering. He joined the demonstration with his cousins whose name was Abdur Rob who was also from Sylhet. Abdur Rob was very active protestor during the war. Salik Sobhan the young boy who was very much involved with the protest during the war sometime wanted to
return Bangladesh to join the war!
As he was underaged, he was not allowed to join the war, but he helped Bangladeshi freedom fighters and the refugees by collecting the money from door to door since the war began till the
end.
Salik Sobhan went to different cities during the war to collect money from door to door to help the freedom fighters, refugees and also for the war victims. Whenever he heard that the Pakistani
cricketers are playing cricket at any cricket ground in Britain, Salik Sobhan used to go there to make aware the Pakistani players about the genocide happening in Bangladesh. He fought
against Pakistan without any weapon by staying in Great Britain. Whenever he attended any demonstrations during the war, there he loved to say “NOT A PENNY NOT A GUN – TIKKA, BHUTTO, IYAHIYA KHAN”. As an eleven year old boy Salik Sobhan tried his best to help
Bangladesh while staying in Great Britain during the war from the beginning till the end.
Still he is helping Bangladesh, he built schools in Sylhet for twelve hundred students, he built kaomi madrasa, madrasa, morgue. Now he is planning to build a college in Sylhet. May be Salik Sobhan is away from Bangladesh for more than four decades but his heart always bleeds for
Bangladesh and its people. Salute to Salik Sobhan for his great contribution for his mother land
Bangladesh.
Ravi Shankar and George Harrison
Ravi Shankar and George Harrison arranged a concert to help Bangladeshi war victims who had
been staying in India as refugees during the war. It was a successful concert held on August 19, 1971. The concert was arranged to raise awareness and money for the refugees. Collectively the concert was known as “The Concert for Bangladesh”. Ravi Shankar and George Harrison were
friends. George Harrison was interested in Indian music. When Ravi Shankar was experiencing the struggle of Bangladeshi war victims in India he could not stay silent and arranged the concert
with George Harrison. The concert was held at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Top class performers like Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr and Billy Preston performed in the concert. They raised nearly $250,000 for this humanitarian cause. Bangladesh and its people are
grateful to them and will remain grateful.
Irwin Allen Ginsberg (June 3rd, 1926 to April 51, 1997)
Allen Ginsberg was an American poet, philosopher and writer. He was famous for his poem called HOWL. He was a good soul, and during liberation war Allen Ginsberg was in India and
witnessed the suffering of Bangladeshi refugees who went to India to save their lives after the brutal attack of Pakistani army in Bangladesh. He helped them along with the famous Indian writer Sunil Gangulee. He treated the Bangladeshi refugees like their own children. It was tough for India to give them complete support although they did help Bangladesh to obtain freedom
from Pakistan.
During the 71 Liberation war, the US government was against the freedom of Bangladesh. The
peace loving people of United States of America created a forum ‘American for Bangladesh’ and organized a poetry recital event on November 20″, 1971 at Saint George Church, New York. Among all the poets who performed that day were Allen Ginsberg, Peter Orlovsky and Ed Sanders. Allen Ginsberg was the main organizer of that poetry recital event.
Allan Ginsberg wrote a poem about the suffering of Bangladeshi refugees when he was visiting refugee camps in India, and was witnessing the plight of millions fleeing wartime violence.
“Millions of daughters walk in the mud Millions of children wash in the flood A millions girls vomit and groans Millions of families hopeless alone”
Besides the poem, he wrote a song and sang with Bob Dylan and the other musicians. The last few lines of the poem read:
“Millions of babies in pain
Millions of mothers in rain
Millions of brothers in woe
Millions of children nowhere to go”
If Pakistani armed forces had not tortured the innocent civilians of Bangladesh, then how would
we know of these amazing individuals like Allen Ginsberg, George Harrison, Ravi Shankar, Bob Dylon, Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr, Billy Preston, Peter Orlovsky and Ed Sanders? How would we
know about the caring hearts of Americans who stepped forward to help Bangladesh when their
government was against the birth of Bangladesh?
Wish I could thank them personally for their great contribution towards Bangladesh.
Sunil Gangulee (September 74, 1934 to October 23rd, 2012)
A Bengal poet and writer, born in Faridpur which now is Bangladesh. He obtained his Master Degree in Bangla from Calcutta University in India. He was a famous writer of both East and
West Bengal. Bangladesh was his birth place and so our country always held a special place in
his heart. During the 71 Liberation War he wanted to join MUKTI BAHINI (Bangladeshi
freedom fighters) to help Bangladesh. He was refused as he was an Indian national, although he helped the Bangladeshi refugees personally. He visited several refugee camps and volunteered there. He encouraged Allen Ginsberg to help the Bangladeshi refugees. He described to Ginsberg
the reality of 71 liberation war. Allen Ginsberg personally visited the refugee camps along with Sunil Gangulee. Sunil Gangulee was a great soul and he loved Bangladesh and visited
Bangladesh several times after Bangladesh became an independent country. He wrote a few books based on Bangladesh Pakistan Liberation war.
Jean Kay (January 54, 1943 to December 23, 2012)
Jean Kay was 28 years old. He fought in Biafra and Yemen. The horror of the war made him kind to the poor. After he returned from the war field he was engaged with social work. He devoted himself to serve the poor. When he knew about the atrocities being committed by
Pakistan army on the poor people of Bangladesh, he became aware of them and studied deeply to know the condition of Bangladeshi refugees who had been in India during the liberation war. He came to know through his investigations that the Bangladeshi refugees are suffering from different diseases, they needed medicines for that illness. After knowing the poor condition of the refugees he decided to help them. On December 3rd he took a pistol and a box of containing
wires and left for the Orly Airport in Paris. When he reached at the airport he managed to board
on Pakistan International Airlines flight 720B. After the aircraft left the boarding area, Jean Kay
went into the cockpit with his pistol and ordered the pilot to cut the engine power. That was 11:50 in the morning, he threatened the pilots if the pilots would not listen to him he would shoot them, he also threatened them he would destroy the aircraft with a bomb which he said was inside the box being carried by him. Jean Kay got an interpreter among the passenger who could
translate his French into English. The Pakistani passengers were horrified; Jean Kay did not harm any of the passengers. For six hours he kept the aircraft under his control and kept on demanding his terms with the control tower. Jean Kay demanded 20 tons of medicine supplies and relief materials for the Bangladeshi refugees. Jean Kay mentioned that his demand was non
negotiable. He also threatened if the aircraft authority doesn’t agree with his demand he might
use the bomb to kill the passengers. After that policemen entered the aircraft with some boxes of penicillin Jean Kay did not suspect then and started receiving the boxes. Immediately after
boarding the aircraft policemen ceased Jean Kay. Four Policemen were wearing Red Cross arm
bands and two others dressed as mechanics. Jean Kay was arrested and was taken to the Orly
police station. When he was interrogated in the police station he said that he had no other options
to help the suffering humanity.
The passengers of the aircraft were interrogated as well and none of them were injured by Jean Kay. Jean Kay was an adventurous young man who got much of inspiration for serving humanity by reading books of Andre Malraux. When he was produced before the court, Andre Malraux, the former minister of France and human rights activist was there as his friend. Jean Kay was sentenced to five years’ imprisonment. Andre Malraux could not help him to remain out of jail. It
was Jean Kay who helped the Bangladeshi people by staying in jail for five years. Later that day,
Red Cross granted 20 tons of medicine and sent them to the refugees of Bangladesh.
Geoffrey Davis
The post liberation war generations of Bangladesh know stories all too well. But the one thing we did not hear as much as we heard about the passionate fighting that defeated the Pakistan army were the rapes that took place in 1971. While the role of women as fighters and supporters was highlighted, the stories of rape camps and war babies are largely ignored. One thing is
confirmed history cannot be rewritten. The truth exists and one day it will come out.
Bangladeshis are starting to consider that it is not a shame, it is a reality and that is why the
scholars are asking questions and more feminists are demanding the truth.
Bina D’Costa who helped Bangladeshi rape victims tracked down the Australian Doctor, Geoffrey Davis who was later brought to Dhaka by the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF) and the United Nations. Davis was tasked with performing late-term abortion and facilitating large scale international war babies born to Bangladeshi women.
In 1971 Liberation war Pakistani soldiers tied young women to trees, gang raped them, had their breast hacked off, and dumped in a mass graves. Sometimes they would cut off the women’s breasts and preserve the pieces inside a bottle which contained formalin. How many Bangladeshi women were raped by the Pakistani soldiers? 200-400,000 is an estimate, but Dr. Geoffrey Davis said that they were more than that.
Pakistani soldiers captured the women in different ways. They would keep the infantry back and put the artillery ahead then they would shell the hospitals and schools. That caused absolute
chaos in the town. After that they would go and begin to segregate the women. Apart from little
children, all those who were sexually matured would be segregated. Then the women would be
put in the army camps and made them available to the troops. Being raped again and again and
again. Lots of victims died in the camps. Some of the victims were 13 years old.
Dr. Geoffrey Davis described how Sheikh Mujibur Rahman labelled the rape survivors “war heroines”. Some victims begged the Pakistani armies to take them back to Pakistan because those victims were scared to go back to their families. Many of them committed suicide, some of
them killed by their husbands or murdered their half Pakistani babies themselves.
Dr. Davis described how he aborted the matured babies, how the pregnant victims tolerated the abortion pain in the operation table just to get rid from the war child. Dr. Davis received training mainly from the U.K. He usually terminated 30 weeks’ pregnancy. Dr. Davis was emotionally involved with the rape victims, and that’s why he helped them abort the war children. Those who were born were given to the International Social Services (ISS).
Dr. Davis described in an interview which was held on 2002, in his interview Dr. Davis had been remembering what happened in 1971 liberation war almost 32 years back. In the interview Dr.
Davis said once he went to the prison camp in Comilla where Pakistani soldiers were prisoned and in pretty miserable circumstances. When Dr. Davis asked the Pakistani soldiers why they raped the Bangladeshi women and girls, in reply the soldiers said “what are they going in about? What are we supposed to have done? It was a war!”.
Some of the rape victims were under age and some of them were brutally killed by the Pakistani
soldiers after being raped. Dr. Davis said, they had instructions from a man named Tikka Khan
to the effect that a good Muslim fights with anybody except his father. So what they had to do
was impregnate as many Bengali women as they could, thus resulting in a new generation of
Bangladeshis with Pakistani blood who would not fight with their fathers. That was the theory behind the inhuman behavior of Pakistani armies with the Bangladeshi women and girls.
Once Dr. Davis was asked in an interview about why the women who had been raped by the Pakistani armies remained silent for so many years. In reply Dr. Davis said, “horror, they all had nightmares. A lot of them had tremendously anxiety. They did not trust anyone. Specially the
foreigners.” Dr. Davis described he performed about 100 abortions a day. Some of the women
knew they might die on the operation table, yet they went to ahead just to get rid of the unborn war child. Those women were so desperate. They knew they had nowhere to go.
In those camps, the rich and beautiful women were kept for the officers and the rest were distributed among the other ranks. They had to stay like prisoners and sometimes worse than that. Sometimes they did not get enough food. When they got sick, they received no treatment. Sometimes they died without treatment.
Dr. Bina D’Costa of Australian National University fulfilled a historic task by interviewing Dr.
Geoffrey Davis on his actions in 1972 in helping rape victims through abortions. The interview was conducted in 2002 and Dr. Davis died in 2008. This is a great service done because Dr. Davis performed a unique task and remains one of the most authentic witnesses of 1971 war’s
brutality.
It is obvious whenever I discuss the birth history of Bangladesh, I always show my respect to two great humans for whom we gained an independent Bangladesh within nine months.
The first is the father of nation, Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman who motivated most of
the Bangladeshi civilians and the younger generations of Bangladesh with his strong principles
and bold words. The people of Bangladesh were innocent, but at the same time they are very
courageous. Pakistan army failed to stand in front of those brave young Bangladeshis, ready to
shed blood for their country.
The second is Indira Gandhi, a dignified lady who gave us motherly shelter during the 71
var. If she would not have visited different countries to state that Bangladesh ought to have been independent country, I wonder how long it would have taken to be identified as an
independent country to the rest of the world.
A few years back in the month of December, (we consider December the month of victory), I was enjoying an interview of a freedom fighter on TV. He was describing how the Calcutta civilians welcomed Bangladeshi refugees with open hearts. In his interview he said, “during the
War when the Bangladeshi refugees were staying in Calcutta, they absolutely trashed the city.
But the people of Calcutta never bothered because it was in their hearts to welcome the refugees”.
Indira Gandhi worked hard to make Bangladesh an independent country. Without her help and shelter it would have been a struggle for Bangladeshis achieve a victory within 9 months of war. Countless Indian soldiers died in that war. India participated the war officially when Pakistan
attacked India on December 3rd, 1971. This war lasted only 13 days. The war started when
Pakistan launched an air strikes on 11 Indian airbases. India took the opportunity and attacked Pakistan back. India lost many brave men and women. Pakistan surrendered to Bangladesh and India on December 16th, 1971.
It is my personal opinion that if India would not have welcomes Bangladeshis with open arms, if India would not have trained our freedom fighters and would not have helped us with their armed
forces, we would be at war much longer.
I remember with honor those Indians who raised their voices against the Pakistani government, who also helped Bangladesh while Pakistan was brutally torturing Bangladeshi civilians.
Artist Moqbul Fida Hussain used to paint on the street and sell those paintings to help Bangladeshi refugees who were living in India during the war.
Wahida Rehman (a famous Indian actor) who raised her voice and made a procession against the Pakistan government for their inhuman torture towards the innocent civilians of Bangladesh. A few years ago, under the present government of Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina honored Wahida Rehman for her great work for Bangladesh and its people.
Sheikh Hasina Wazed (The Iron Lady)
Sheikh Hasina, the current prime minister of Bangladesh, is the daughter of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Sheikh Hasina has been working towards making her father’s dreams a
reality for more than three decades since the war.
She has been attacked several times by killers who had been appointed by her own people. Even
though she did not leave the country to save her life, she never gave up and tried her best to serve
the country although her live was in danger.
I don’t want to write much about her because when the sun rises, everyone can see it shine. When the moon sparkles in the sky, her beauty can never be denied. Hasina’s work for Bangladesh is like the shining sun and the sparkling moon.
The whole world is recognizing her work and awarding her. Bangladeshis should be proud of her. She is bringing us honor. Not only that, she has also recognized others for their contributions to the nation. She has been awarding foreigners who worked for Bangladesh, who helped Bangladesh and who protested against the War. Scores of Pakistanis who were for the division of east and west Pakistan had been punished by the Pakistani government for their protests. Now Sheikh Hasina is inviting them to Bangladesh and honoring them for their nobility.
Singapore has named an Orchid after Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina. Sheikh Hasina unveiled the Orchid in Singapore Botanical garden. It has been named Dendrobium Sheikh Hasina. This is a
very special honor that Singapore government has accorded to our Prime Minister for her outstanding role as a successful Stateswoman in Bangladesh as well as her prominence as a role model on the Global stage. Sheikh Hasina will bring us more success and will make Bangladesh one of the strongest countries of the world in future if we Bangladeshi will help her to do that.

Chapter 6 The Unsung Heroes of Gopibagh
I grew up in Gopibagh. Gopibagh is an old city in the capital of Bangladesh. There I met many freedom fighters who never introduced themselves as a freedom fighters.
Sadek Hossain Khoka
Sadek Hossain Khoka (1952 – 2019), was the mayor of Dhaka city for 10 years. He was a great guerrilla fighter during the liberation war. He fought under the command of freedom fighter Major Haidar. After the victory of 1971 liberation war Major Haider received the Veer Vikrom title for his heroic contribution towards his country, Bangladesh.
Sadek Hossain Khoka was nineteen years old and a university student in Psychology during the
liberation war. He participated in many successful operations against the genocide of Pakistan. He, along with other young fighters, attacked the election head quarter of Momenbagh with explosives under the command of Major Haider. After the attack BBC and CNN news channels
continuously covered and broadcasted this event. It was a month of Ramadan in 1971 when the
Pakistani Government attempted to conceal the ongoing genocide in Bangladesh by hiring civilians to act in a short film that portrayed a ‘normal day of shopping and leisurely activities at Baitul Mokarram shopping mall. Sadek Hossain Khoka and other young activists came together to ensure the film was destroyed. The Pakistani government failed to fool the rest of the world.
Sadek Hossain Khoka invaded the Air Force recruiting office with explosives during the war. The recruiting office was established behind Shahidullah Hall of Dhaka. Him and three other
youngsters were behind the success of this survives in the global map, he too will live on as a
great hero of our nation.
Shafiqul Bashar Chapal
Shafiqul Bashar Chapal was a great journalist. He received a Master’s degree in journalism from the University of Dhaka in early 1970. He was a facilitator of operations during the BangladeshPakistan liberation war. He helped during the war in several ways to the best of his ability. He raised funds for war victims and arranged for freedom fighters to be trained in neighboring country, India. He also orchestrated defensive attacks against the Pakistani army. As a left wing politician he was preparing himself for the fight against the injustice of the Pakistani government since 1962. When the war began he moved out from his residence and became an active organizer of 1971 Bangladesh Pakistan war.
He used to collect money during the war by selling magazines named Muktijodhdho (freedom fighter) that were published in Kolkata. Carrying Muktijodhdho magazines was as risky as carrying weapons during the war. Shafiqul Bashar Chapal mostly sold the magazines to the professors of the University of Dhaka. They were great supporters of the freedom of Bangladesh. Oftentimes, they purchased the magazines with twenty to fifty times more than they were worth, only to help the country and the guerrilla fighters. They had an unconditional love towards Bangladesh
I respect freedom fighter Shafiqul Bashar Chapal for his noble contribution for our country. He
has remained a humble character since the independence many decades ago. He is now living in Gopibagh with his family and enjoying life as a retired journalist.
Moududur Rahman Babu
Freedom fighter Moududur Rahman Babu also helped Bangladesh during the liberation war as a messenger and an arms-carrier. He also used to help the wounded freedom fighters by providing treatment through his uncle Dr. Atiqur Rahman, who was killed by the traitors of Bangladesh just before the war end. Dr. Atiqur Rahman was captured along with his nephew at his Rathkhola Chamber in the month of December, 1971. He was taken along with his nephew to the Sutrapur police station and then never found. His identity card was found by Anjuman Mofidul Islam. Anjuman Mofidul Islam is a welfare organization in Bangladesh established in 1905 which provides care to the unprivileged people and the orphans of Bangladesh. They also bury
unclaimed and unidentified dead bodies. Dr. Atiqur Rahman and his nephew were killed in
Rayer Bazar Badhdha Bhumi where the traitors of Bangladesh worked with the Pakistani Army
to kill the most educated people of Bangladesh in an attempt to destroy the backbone of our
nation. But they failed. Gopibagh gave birth to a number of unsung freedom fighters who made enormous contributions for the victory of Bangladesh. I want to mention with respect some of their names.
Freedom fighter Nasir Mullick and Alauddin Ul Asad were the first persons who entered Banga Bhaban chanting “JOY BANGLA!”, where the Bangladeshi and Indian army along with the
freedom fighters had been hesitating to enter because they thought the Pakistani army might have
set mines along the Bhaban after they had lost the war.
Freedom fighters Kazi Mishu was a student of Statistics at the University of Dhaka and Afiqur
Rahman was a student of the Engineering University. They had been the first news readers of independent Bangladesh Television.
Kazi Mishu read the Bangla news and Afiqur Rahman read the English news in Bangladesh television. Freedom fighter Afiqur Rahman Tipu is now living in USA with his family.
Freedom fighter Dr. Solaiman Khan was killed in Chandpur.
Great freedom fighter martyr Zakir Hossain was killed in an operation in Comilla.
The irony is freedom fighters Ismail Hossain Jahangir, Bodiuzzaman, Shajahan, Mulukjahan had been caught by the traitors of Bangladesh at their residence just before the victory of Bangladesh. The dead body of Zakir Hossain was not found but the dead bodies of Bodiuzzaman, Shajahan and Mulukjahan had been found in Rayer Bazar Badhdha Bhumi. They were later buried in
Gopibagh graveyard.
Freedom fighter Sadek Hossain Khoka, Omar Faruque Pinu and Golam Faruque Apu along with other freedom fighters occupied Bangladesh television center after the victory of Bangladesh
Pakistan war.
Major Haider took over the control of Bangladesh television and Betar Bangla (radio center) from them. Major Haider had a great contribution to the restoration of Dhaka city after the war.
Gopibagh, Ovoy Das Lane, Tikatuli, Ram Krishna Mission Road produced many war heroes who brought us independent Bangladesh by risking their lives.
Sixteen years old young man Abid Mansur escaped from home to establish Bangladesh as an independent country in the global map, then became a great freedom fighter. His younger brother Montu also joined the war. After the war Montu became a national cricket player and made Bangladesh more proud.
Freedom fighter Babla, Masudur Rahman, Murad And Chuni are the great heroes of Gopibagh. Motiur Rahman Mollick was a student of tenth grade when he joined the mass movement of 1969 on January 24th and was killed during the movement. He was also a great hero of Gopibagh.
As a previous resident of Gopibagh I am so proud of all the freedom fighters who came from my
hometown.
There was many unsung freedom fighters who I don’t know, even so I am honoring them for bringing us the beautiful country Bangladesh.

Chapter 7 A Hole Left Behind
Many people of the west hardly know about the terrible bloody war, how Pakistan army attacked Bangladesh and its people in the night of March 25th, 1971. How they raped the women to produce future generations in Bangladesh, how they killed the educated people to break the backbone of Bangladesh, how they arrested the young and killed them brutally in the police camps and dumped them in such a place where no one could find their dead bodies, how they burned the properties of Bangladeshi people to make them poor. Within nine months, Pakistan
tried their best to destroy Bangladesh and its people. But they failed. Maybe Bangladesh is a small country, but we never give up, we always fight back. That’s how we Bangladeshis are. That’s why when Pakistan attacked Bangladesh with their armed forces and heavy weapons, Bangladesh and its people did not get scared but fought back and brought us independence. I must say, India and its people helped us a lot to get the freedom from Pakistan.
When the liberation war started, my father lost his business and everything. In 1947 when Bangladesh became a part of Pakistan, he had to leave Calcutta with his whole life behind. He had to escape for Dhaka (now the capital of Bangladesh) because of the riot. For both the
partitions of nations (India/ Pakistan and Bangladesh/Pakistan), my dad was effected. Both times
he lost his properties but never gave up. We were great losers because we lost him forever after the Bangladesh-Pakistan war. My dad was a brave soul. Sporty, energetic and never giving up – that’s why after the victory of 71 war when we were living in the village and heard that our house was captured by traitors, he assured my mother that he would buy her a new house and would start fresh to give us a better life. But it was our bad luck that he was killed by a traitor just three months after the victory.
I will never forget how we lived our life without him after the 71 war. My siblings and I were dreaming about moving back to Dhaka for a better life. Our mother was excited thinking about a new life. We had been living in the village without my father for a year. Now we could be living together in the same place. To me it was like dream come true! I was so excited because I was
missing him like crazy. It was a wonderful excitement for all of us.
How ironic, after 3 months of victory, my father took his last breath in a pharmacy where he went to take a precautionary injection for tetanus. He injured his foot in a minor accident and so decided to go in and take the shot because he didn’t want to be ill and cause trouble for my mother at the village. The day he passed, my mother lost all her happiness and my siblings and I lost my childhood.
It was an unfortunate circumstance. We all were broken. We got the bad news early in the
morning on March 20th 1972, one of my cousin brought the news.
We had a tough life after dad passed away. My uncle brought us to Dhaka. We stayed in our
uncle’s house for a few months. It was a beautiful house. Within a day I fell in love with that house. That house had a beautiful roof and a large porch, me and my cousin used to play there.
The front yard had beautiful garden and gorgeous trees, the backyard was the same. I used to
play there all the time with my cousin. My mother was trying to settle in Dhaka city along with us. She was trying her best to earn money to maintain our big family. Whenever she would leave my uncles house for errands, I used to feel insecure thinking that she would never come back like
my dad. Sometimes I would hide myself in the corner of the house and cry silently.
Once I was playing with my cousin in the beautiful large porch of that house, I saw my maternal
and paternal uncles were having a meeting with my mother and my mother was crying, Seeing that, I stopped playing and hid myself in the corner of a room where we used to sleep and was crying alone. After the meeting I asked my mother why she was crying. My mother again started crying, hugging me tight. She told me, “they want to take you all away from me”, then I held her tight and asked her, “are you going to do that?”. We both broke down in tears, and she
can separate us from each other”.
We all stayed together, except my eldest brother who was only 11 years old. My maternal uncle wanted to help my mother after she became a widow, so he took the responsibility of my eldest brother. He left us with tears. When I saw my brother was leaving with tears I got scared and was thinking to myself that maybe someday I would be separated from the family like him. My mother did not let that happen.
She took a bold decision after she allowed my maternal uncle to take the responsibility of my
elder brother. She was upset when she saw her first born being taken away, and so decided to stay together with her children in Dhaka city. After my father passed away, we were living in my paternal uncle’s house for a few months. My mother then started a small business. After she was able to save up, we left that house. We rented out a small apartment in the city. My siblings and I were admitted into a new school. We were happy to be living under the same roof.
After some years, one sunny afternoon, I was playing in the balcony of our small but beautiful house. While playing, I heard someone knocking the main door. I opened the door and saw my elder brother standing in front of me wearing a very simple outfit. It was tough for me to recognize him as he used to be very chubby and good looking. I found him looking skinny and poor. Upon seeing me, he was smiling as tears rolled down his face. I still remember that
moment, and it makes my heart ache.
My mother welcomed him with open arms but my uncle did not want him to stay with us. So he came to Dhaka to take my brother back. He refused to go back. I still remember the morning my
uncle came to our house and was forcing my elder brother to go back with him. He kept on
refusing. I saw my mother was silent and looked very scared. She confused about how to handle
the situation because she did not want to lose my elder brother, nor did she want to hurt him.
I was there and was watching everything. The conversation started getting heated and my uncle was almost about to hit my elder brother in anger. Somehow he stopped and left our house. My brother was here to stay with us permanently. He was very happy, but deep inside frustrated
because he thought our mother loves us and not him. This idea grew stronger in his mind. He
started thinking that because our mother lived without him for so long and never fought for him,
she mustn’t have loved him. But really, she wanted him to finish his schooling under his uncles’ care. He slowly grew more frustrated and started substance abuse. His addiction to drugs was a nightmare for us. My mother would always scream at him to quit and he always fought back. It
was a terrible way to live. I started hating him for this reason but now, as a mother of two young
men, I think of how he must have felt to be living alone without his family. I think now that
perhaps it wasn’t so bad that he started using drugs…
I had many reasons to hate him as a child. Once, while I was in school, he went to pick me up
after an exam. I was waiting for my mother who usually picks me up, when my classmate and friend came over and told me, “there’s a druggie in the school, looking for his sister. The school
authorities are very upset with him”. I wondered who this man was. From a distance, I saw that
it was my elder brother! He looked really odd, and immediately I was embarrassed. I told my
friend that I was his sister. She was really surprised and started apologizing for calling my brother an addict. I reassured her, “it’s okay, you don’t have to apologize. I would have said the
same thing”.
After that day, a few students at the school started calling me “sister of a drug addict”. I became
more upset with my brother for putting me in that situation. Some days later, my mom was
having an argument with my elder brother for same old reason. Me and my younger brother were
there watching them arguing. At one point when the argument became serious, I saw my elder
brother walk to the kitchen and take out a knife. He shouted at us, “I will kill you all!”. Seeing
the knife, my mother became quiet and begged him to drop the knife. He did not.
That night I lost my temper, and screamed back at him, “I hate you! You made our life hell! I don’t want you to be with us anymore!”. I became daring, and at the same time I was frustrated,
helpless and was sobbing.
That evening my brother left the house for a few weeks.
If the 71 war would not have happened, if Pakistan army would have not burned my dads’ textile mill, transport business and his food business on the evening of March 25th, 1971, and my dad would not die right after, if we would not be poor and helpless after the war; life would be different. The war took my elder brother away from us. If my elder brother would not have gone to my uncles’ house, then my brother would not have been a drug user. When my uncle took him, he was a eleven years old boy.
Time heals everything, now my elder brother is living happily with his loving, caring and beautiful wife in Columbus, Ohio. He also became a very loving and caring brother. He is very
generous too. Every day he calls me; he calls all his siblings because he loves us a lot. I am very happy to see him having a wonderful life with his lovely wife. I am very much grateful to Almighty that He helped my elder brother have a safe and secured life in United States of
America.
In 2008-09, my siblings and I migrated to the US with hopes of a better life. My eldest and only
sister, and her husband who works at the Ohio State University, brought us here. We have a
wonderful life, and all live in a beautiful city called Dublin. My mother always encouraged us to go abroad, even if that meant she would be alone in Bangladesh. She never thought of or put
herself first. We have a wonderful life now.
After 1971, when my father died, my mother had to sacrifice many things to give us a better life.
I experienced how she erased all the color from her life to give us a colorful life. She was only
31 years old when my dad passed away. According to our culture of that era, widows had to wear colorless clothes and were not allowed to use makeup. My mother followed the culture and kept herself away from colors. In essence, she made herself the queen of all colors by rejecting the
colors from her life.
My eyes fill with tears imagining that she was only 31 years old when she became a widow with
1. She took her last breath in 2011 and so, she fought for more than 40 years to
give us a luxurious and secured life and did not stop us from migrating abroad. I was very young
when dad passed away, and so I did not realize the tremendous sacrifices on her part. She was very young to be a widow and was very beautiful. She always looked gorgeous in a white saree and without make up. Now I regret why I never realized that she should not have made her life
colorless. I wish I was older. I would never allow her to make her life colorless.
As I already mentioned that we had a butler his name was Solaiman, he was like our family
member. I used to call him Solaiman Chacha (Chacha means uncle). He used to look after me
and my immediate elder brother in the evening as my mother was busy in the evening with the
guests. That’s why Solaiman Chacha used to serve us dinner. Sometime, he used to teach us
manners like how to eat, how to sit. I was a great fan of him because he always treated us like his
own children.
When the war began we had to move to the village for the horrible situation. We had to leave Solaiman Chacha because my mother was not able to take him along with us. After the war when we struggling to have a better life, once I found Solaiman Chacha in our residence after I came from school. When I met him I became emotional, my eyes filled with tears, voice choked and could not utter a single word, but he greeted me and asked me about my school and present life. After the meeting when my mother served lunch, she invited Solaiman Chacha to join us. He had lunch with us in the same table that afternoon. That day I learned how to welcome a guest and how to treat a guest when they may not be of the same means. Social status never matters to her. She always welcomed everyone with open arms and never cared about their status. After that day he never came to meet us. But I always remember him and pray for him as well.
As a young girl, I had many demands. I never realized then that it might be difficult for my mother to fulfill my wishes. Most of the time I used to forget my demands, but my mother would never do so. She always remembered. Now when I look back, I do regret being so demanding
and stubborn. I never realized that she was working so hard and it was not so easy for her to
accommodate my wishes. She gave me everything I asked for. Oh, how she loved me! I loved her to the moon and back. I miss her incredibly.
I am very much grateful to Almighty for His kindness towards us because he gave us such a bold
and courageous mother who sacrificed her till her last breath. When mother was alive I never said how much I was proud of her, how much I loved her, how much I cared for her, and now I
regret endlessly.
For some reason, I was shy and I could not tell her how much I admired her. I wish I could tell
her…
“mother you are everything, I can’t imagine life without you. You are everywhere. I see you when I open my eyes. I see you when I close my eyes. I feel you when I breath, I miss you when I am helpless. You like a tallest mountain who keeps the balance of the world. We were zero
without you, we are zero now and will be zero. Whenever I remember you, my eyes fill with tears.
But with those tears, you bring me joy, bring me pride. You taught us how to love our country. You taught us how to love the poor. You had a beautiful life before the war, but I never saw you
regret. You were a great warrior. Your children are proud of you.”
I spent very short time with my loving father. Although he passed a few months after the victory, I lost him long before that. We left him in Dhaka and went to our village home when the war began. My father continued to help freedom fighters and the innocent civilians while he stayed in Dhaka, while my mother did the same from the village. My whole family,- my parents, my grandparents, my uncles and aunts, my cousins; everyone tried their level best to support our soldiers. Cousin brothers of mine went to the battlefield to fight for Bangladesh.
One of my cousins, named Robiul Islam Kochi, went to war and became a great freedom fighter. He survived the war and died in 2009. I am proud of him and everyone who fought for Bangladesh
I always pray for them because they bring the freedom to speak in Bangla, write in Bangla, sing in Bangla, scream in Bangla.

Chapter 8
A New Country Is Born
Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was a great leader who sacrificed his whole life by staying in jail. He sacrificed a life with his wife and children to fight for Bangladesh. He who
brought us freedom; to me he is like an ocean, a mountain, a huge sky, a shiny sun who always
shines on Bangladesh with his light.
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was a great lover of Bangladesh and its people; that is why he was called Bongo Bondhu (directly translated as friend of Bangla). Tofayel Ahmad, a great politician
and now a minister of the present Awami League government, started calling him Bongo Bondhu from before the liberation war.
When we see mountains, we know it is a mountain. No one needs to inform us of the hugeness of
a mountain. When we see an ocean, no one needs to inform us of the depth of an ocean. When we see the blue sky, no one needs to inform us of how infinite it is. To me, the ocean was Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman because he sounded like the waves of the ocean when he used
to speak. He would tell us, “My dear people! I am here to protect you from the injustice and the devils of this world, so don’t be scared! I will work for you to bring you what is right, until my last breath.” To me, Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was the shiny sun in the blue sky. He brightened up Bangladesh with his boldness and strong leadership. I consider Bongo Bondhu
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman the full moon in the dark night that lightened up the world when the
world was dark. He made Bangladesh sparkle.
As long as I will survive, I will salute Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and our war heroes who sacrificed their lives and bright future for the country.
Sher e Bangla, AK Fazlul Huq, Hossain Shaheed Sharwardi, – these men had a dream of a
country of Bengal for many years before the war. If we consider Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to be the architect of Bangladesh then Sher e Bangla A.K Fazlul Huq, Hossain Shaheed
Sharwardi were the foundations of Bangladesh. I met Faiyazul Huq, the grandson of Sher-E-Bangla A.K. Fazlul Huq. He was a very down to earth person. I met him this year (2018) in EKUSHE BOI MELA [a book fair to show respect to our heroes who fought for Bangla language). When I asked about his grandfather, Faiyazul Huq said, “my grandfather was a nice person with a kind heart, he was very brilliant and patriotic. He also was dreaming for an independent country for Bangladeshi people, and was working hard on it. Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was a great admirer of Sher E Bangla A. K. Fazlul Huq, Bongo Bondhu also followed the footsteps of him.” Faiyazul Huq kept on saying, Sher E Bangla A.K. Fazlul Huq gave birth his only son at the age of 70. He also said, “My father was a love child of my grandfather”. He continued saying that his grandfather lived a very simple and humble life although he was an affluent man”. Faiyazul Huq also said, he wants to serve Bangladesh like his grandparent Sher E Bangla A. K. Fazlul Huq and Bongo Bondhu
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. When he heard that I am writing a book based on my memories of
liberation war, he wished me luck before he was leaving.
Special thanks to Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman who gave courage to all the Bangladeshis to fight for the country against the Pakistani government, who helped us dream for an independent country, who sacrificed most of his life by staying in the jail to establish the rights of Bangladeshi people.
We were very much fortunate to have General M.A.G. Osmani as a great fighter. Bangladesh needed an army officer like him when the war began. When the Pakistani army attacked Bangladesh on March 25th, 1971, General M.AG. Osmani was with Bongo Bondhu Sheikh
Mujibur Rahman at his residence and the Bengali officers informed Awami League leaders of
Yahiya Khan’s departure and the army movements. When Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was advised to hide himself General Osmani was there. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman refused to hide and said, “if I would hide, the Pakistani army would have killed more Bengali people to search for him”
Osmani hid in Dhaka until March 29th, shaved off his mustache (he was known as “The man
attached to a mustache”). He headed for the Indian border, he went to Jingira, then by a boat to Daudkandi, a district of Bangladesh (where suspicious residents detained him before the brother of the local member of parliament helped free him). Osmani walked and crossed the Gomoti
River by boat with the help of a Bengali army signal (Corps officer), reaching India on April 2nd, 1971.
Osmani was involved with the Awami League political party and wanted a free country for Bangladeshi people as most of the Bangladeshis wanted a free country on that era. He joined the
war after Pakistan army attacked Bangladesh. He was a great army officer who trained freedom fighters to fight in the battlefield against the Pakistani soldiers. General M.A.G Osmani operated many successful operations against the Pakistani army. His contribution to Bangladesh significantly eased the process of attaining victory with his great leadership. Bangladesh will always remember him with respect.
When Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman returned to Bangladesh from Pakistan after the
war, he was in power. It was a crucial time for a leader to rule such a country that had been in
ruins. The Pakistani army destroyed everything – shopping centers, factories, bridges, roads. They killed many civilians. At the time of independence, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was to Bangladesh what a milkless mother is to a delicate newborn baby.
The young generations of Bangladesh had heavy weapons and artillery because not all freedom fighters surrendered their arms. Some freedom fighters became Noksalists, and they were killing the innocent wealthy civilians. During this period Bangladesh had a severe food crisis and poverty. A group of people were becoming very rich. Most of the civilians were suffering from poverty. It was a challenging time to lead the country, especially because others were trying to take their power from there.
To control the crisis, Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman decided to form a party for few years. He named the party Bakshal. He formed the party to control the people of Bangladesh who were citizens but enemies of nation. He wanted make a balance in between rich and poor. He
wanted to control those young generations who had the weapons and were committing crime.
My siblings
After the war, we all sacrificed a lot for the family. Today we are having a secured life in the United States of America. My elder sister (Parveen Tahmina Akbar) who brought us here could not enjoy her teen years as she had to look after us as our mother was often at work. My elder brother (Saifur Rahman) had to go to my uncle’s house for hopes of better education, but instead he became frustrated by staying far away from the family. My second elder brother (Mizanur Rahman) used to accompany my mother to her workplace by skipping school whenever she needed him. It was a great support for mom and us. My third elder brother (Sohel Rahman) and youngest brother (Habibur Rahman) had to sacrifice their childhood. I always feel for my youngest brother who was never able to call anyone ‘dad’.
I want to thank former mayor of Dhaka city, Sadek Hossain Khoka who is a freedom fighter and also a kind soul who used to live and care for the children in the neighborhood where I grew up.
One of my cousins who was a freedom fighter, and has since passed away; I want thank him as
well. I want to thank MP Rashed Khan Menon, MP Moinuddun Badol, Khaled Mussarrof,
Sheikh Kamal and Sheikh Jamal, sons of Bongo Bondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman for their
contribution as freedom fighters.
I want to end by thanking my parents Mr. and Mrs. Lutfur Rahman who brought me into this
world and for who I am here today.
Thanking my siblings, those never regret losing everything for the War because in return we got independent Bangladesh. I am proud of Bangladesh; I am proud to be born in Bangladesh.
Sometimes I think if Bangladesh-Pakistan War would not have happened, then we would not be able to prove how bold we are, how strong we are, how deeply we love our country.
Special thanks to my mother Mrs. Monowara Rahman who raised us, and gave us a life that we would not be proud of. Special thanks to Sheikh Hasina Wazed, who is risking her life for the last 38 years to give us Sonar Bangladesh and the country that the Father of our nations dreamt of since he was a little boy.
JOY BANGLA, JOY BANGA BANDHU. LONG LIVE BANGLADESH.
Whenever I sing this song, my eyes fill with tears. Our national anthem,
My golden Bengal, I love you Forever your skies, your air set my heart in tune as if it were a flute… Plea for International Birangona Day
When I decided to write about of my 71 war experiences, one thing always hit me, that how would I write about the rape victims? How would I describe their situation? Would I be able to describe that in words? This is no easy task.
During the war, the Pakistanis targeted the women of Bangladesh as an amusement product instead of human beings. They raped them, tortured them and when they found the women no longer usable, they killed them brutally. It was a horrible situation for those women and their
relatives.
After the victory, when all Bangladeshis were cheering for freedom and congratulating each
other, those women were crying silently because they had nowhere to go. They lost their hope for living. They were exhausted, they were upset, and they were scared to face their loved ones. Some of them committed suicide, some of them rejected by their family members, some of them requested the Pakistani Army to take them to Pakistan because they couldn’t face their relatives.
The Pakistan army was instructed by senior officials to impregnate these Bangladeshi women so that their blood would run in the veins of Bangladeshis. They planned to use this as a protective shield so that they would no longer be attacked, as Muslims never attack their own blood. When the war began, the Pakistan army started collecting the women from different places and used to bring them to the camp and kept them there to rape them. Young girls would die from being raped countless times. They had no humanity. Sometimes they would rape the women in front of their parents, brothers, relatives and husbands. Whenever I try to envision the situation of those women who had been in the concentration camps, I start shivering, I have goosebumps, I can’t breathe even ! How terrifying.
I am requesting all the leaders of the world to fix a calendar date to show respect to female war
heroines, alive and dead. It is not only for Bangladesh, but for all women effected by war, – women raped, women killed, women tortured all over the world.
We will call it International War Heroine Day.