My experience on the first 'Victory Day'

Occupation forces surrendering outside Dhaka.

Indian army General Manekshaw's stern warning to the occupation forces through radio broadcast was being beamed around the country since the early morning of 15th December, 1971 alerting the occupation forces to surrender or to face the grim consequences. The morale of the Pakistani army fighting pitched battle here and there was completely broken. Because the entire so-called East Pakistan save Dhaka city had already fallen to the Muktibahini-Indian army joint forces. People who suffered cruel torture in the hands of Pakistan army and lost their dear and near ones in this cruel ethnic cleansing operation resorted to by the Pakistani army became euphoric in spite of some uneasiness in the air. By early morning of 16th December it was almost clear that the Pakistani army would surrender. Till the morning of 16th December the Indian jet planes were shelling the strategic places at Dhaka, mainly, the Dhaka University halls and cantonment areas, where Pakistani army was holed up.

People came out of their houses at Dhaka, most of them with their portable radio sets in their hands, their ears plugged to broadcasts from the Indian radio, then the most powerful and only media that was intermittently broadcasting news bulletins informing the nation about the time and venue of surrender. Hotel Intercontinental was first selected as the venue and it was later shifted to Race Course Maidan now called Suhrawardy Uddyan. Lt. Gen. Jagjit Singh Aurora C-in-C of Eastern Command took surrender of Lt. Gen. A. K. Niazi, has own batch mate in the army at 3 PM.

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Vast crowds of people from every corner of the city were out on the streets to express their rejoicings and jubiliation at this historic moment. Collecting in front of the Hotel Inter Continental from the early hours of 16th December now known as Sheraton Hotel and unmindful of the shooting at random of the vanquished and demoralised Pakistani Army from here and there, they made a beeline to the hotel premises. The atmosphere was electrifying. It was, as if after nine months of birth pang the nation discovered its new identity. By 11 AM the crowd swelled with the Muktijoddhas joining them and firing from their rifles in the air to give vent to their feelings of jubiliation and rejoicings on this glorious day of victory after nine months of ruthless repression.

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

With the rejoicing going all around, another eerie situation suddenly dampened the gala mood of the people. Possibly with orders from the occupation forces army command, Pakistani troops were marching towards the cantonment with their faces red in anger.

The crack troops suddenly started firing at the crowd and coincidentally at the same time an open Indian jeep flying white flag followed by two convoy of troops reached the intersection of the Sheraton Hotel. Shooting from the Pakistani troops was so random, that the army officer of the rank of Brigadier ordered the troops joining him to take position and frustrate the attacking Pakistani troops. In such a melee enthusiastic and jubilant youngsters of my age even in the face of such hazardous situation went near the Brigadier's jeep to give vent to their feelings of gratitude. All of a sudden, a stream of bullets from some unknown direction smashed the window pane of the Brigadier's jeep. Luckily the Brigadier and some of us who were near him survived the jet of firing. Instructing us to go inside the Inter Continental Hotel, the neutral zone, the smart looking Brigadier with a tall and well-built body immediately went into action. Pakistani army troops, we later discovered, were firing at the crowd of people by taking position inside the Shakura premises.

Many of us in that fateful morning jumped over the waist-high wall of the Hotel Sheraton, then declared as neutral zone and took shelter in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel. After about 15 minutes, firing from the Pakistani side stopped and they again started marching towards the cantonment. When the situation calmed down, we came out of the Hotel Sheraton and saw some Pakistani soldiers lying dead in front of the Minto Road crossing, Ramna garden boundary wall and Shakura premises.

As it happens in the life of every person who has lost his near and dear ones in the tumultuous days, I was perturbed by thoughts jolting me at this dawn of freedom. I was lucky to have survived the bullet shot but my eldest brother, about 48 years old in 1971 and my brother-in-law, then 30 and of my age Major Mahdiuz Zaman Khan, then working at DGFI wing in the Comilla cantonment could not survive. Major Zaman superbly fair complexioned, had a tall and well-built structure. If anyone had looked at him without hearing him, he could have mistaken him for a Punjabi (Pakistani). It is intriguing that they could kill a man bearing so much resemblance with them. My eldest brother, an ex-army personnel in the second world war was taken away from his business premises at Satkhira by the hyenas in May, 1971 at the instance of the Razakers guiding the occupation army and was never returned. Major Zaman, a grandson of Moulana Md. Akram Khan, one of the pioneers of partition movement and founder-editor of now defunct The Daily Azad was summoned on a plea to attend an emergency meeting on 27th December in the Comilla cantonment and was shot dead along with other Bangali officers in the Comilla Cantonment. Major Zaman left a 3 month old child daughter at the time of his death. Shockingly, his wife living in the Comilla Cantonment residence was always told that Zaman was busy on urgent mission.

While the whole country and government remain busy in celebrating the memorable occasion, our thoughts go back to those days of atrocities and genocide carried out by the occupation forces. Throughout the nine months, the ruthless occupation forces was extracting a terrible vengeance. Not since Hitler there has been anything so diabolical. It was simply a "kill and burn mission" in the words of Anthony Mascarenhas, the great Sunday Times Journalist who had often made secret trips to Bangladesh during this period. After my brother's killing in May, 1971, while I travelled to Satkhira risking my life through the most hazardous road journey often meeting with army interrogation at several points of the road from Jessore to Satkhira, I saw whole villages devastated in reprisal.

Now Bangladesh is a reality. But the country is still in a state of turmoil. The period after liberation rise to a further, familiar litany of woes. The nation's great social ills have not been cured. Poverty elimination programme of the successive governments has been an empty promise in absence of policy framework to implement at the grass roots level. Bangladesh's poor are as poor as ever and more numerous than ever. Illiteracy, child labour¸ infant mortality, the privation imposed by sectarianism, fundamentalist fervour and gangsterism -- all these issues remain unsolved. In December, 1971 many Bangladeshis had idealistic hopes of a great new beginning, but now in December, 2003, they largely remain unrealise.

Shockingly, the idealism, spirit and hope that inspired our leaders and Muktijuddhas to fight back the maurading Pakistan Army are fast disappearing. At this annual event of "Victory Day" the nation must redeem the pledges our patriotic leaders, brave freedom fighters and people belonging to all ranks, regardless of caste and creed made to free this country of exploitation, poverty and violence of all types. That's the only way we can pay tribute to our war heroes.