Begum Majib’s tale of the fateful March 25
From Our Staff Reporter, DACCA, DEC. 28- “I now shudder to think of that dreadful night. The night of March 25, when I was separated from my husband. Stop shooting. He shouted. But no one would listen.”
It was rather painful for Mrs. Mujibur Rahman to recall the events of that night. But she graciously obliged us when we called on her at her Dhanmundi residence last evening
“It was about 12.45 a.m. They came in a convoy. They were shooting indiscriminately. My husband, myself, and my sons Jamal and Russel were on the first floor of our residence.”
“Some bullets landed in our bedroom. We came out of our beds and took shelter under the cots. They were shooting at the house relentlessly.””
“Then I crawled to the bathroom. My Children were with me. They too crawled out there. My husband shouted at the top of his voice, Stop shooting. I am coming out. But his voice was drowned under the crackle of gunfire.”
“The troops had already entered the house. Shooting their way through they moved from the ground floor to the roof of the house where the red, green and gold Bangladesh flag was flying. They pulled it down and set it on fire. It was shortly after 1 a.m.”
“A small kid who used to help us in our household work was crying. My husband tried to comfort him. Don’t cry, my son. I will send you to your parents, he said. He then told the blood-thirsty troops; Hold your fire. I am in my room.”
“They stopped shooting. My husband went out of his room to meet the troops outside. He asked them whether there were any officers present. An officer came forward. My husband said something to him. I do not remember what he said.”
He then came back to the room. He told me to pack up some personal belongings for him. Then he went again to the officer and asked him what was the meaning of such indiscriminate firing. The officer was silent. By this time I had managed to pack up the things for him. I saw them taking him away.”
Mrs. Rahman then switched on to the events of March 26.
“The day was relatively peaceful as far as we were concerned. But the troops came again at midnight. Again a burst of gunfire. I got out of the house by the backdoor, scaled the wall and jumped onto the compound of the adjoining house with my sons and took shelter there.”
“Throughout the night the troops ransacked our house, broke furniture, smashed the telephone and burnt papers.”
“I then went to a hideout at Shilu Road in Moghbazar. But somehow the Pakistanis found out my whereabouts. They then brought me here and posted armed guards all around the house.”
“I could visit my residence at 32, Dhanmondi Road only once, during the last nine months. I was taken there by the occupation Army. But I could not find any of my husband’s papers.”
Do you like to go back to your residence now? I asked. “I have nothing left there.” She said, When do you expect your husband to come back? “I am now living with the hope that he will return soon.”
Reference: Hindustan Standard, 29.12.1971