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adhunika > article > bengalis in pakistan: the long ordeal
Bengalis in Pakistan: The Long Ordeal
By Nurun Nahar Hashim
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When the war started, we were unfortunate enough to be based in Pakistan's capital Islamabad. We lived in different countries as part of my husband Syed Najmuddin Hashim's foreign postings. In 1970, he was appointed Executive Director General of Pakistan Council. In that connection, we found ourselves in the official quarters located in the foothills of Margala Hills in Islamabad. Before that we were in Paris, France.
While the freedom movement was gaining momentum in the country, there were a few senior Bengalis in the civil administration. Some of these individuals harboured pro-Pakistani sentiments. They were sent to East Pakistan to gather intelligence on the movement under the cover of office inspection. And those Bengali officers like my husband who did not support Pakistan were deprived of the facility of visiting Bangladesh even for official purposes. At one point they were forbidden to come home, although this was unofficially enforced. Then the war started. All links between the two halves of Pakistan were severed. This is how we happened to get stuck there. Immediately after the war began, it became very difficult for Bengalis to move around on the streets. Apart from the usual verbal harassment, sometimes stones were thrown at us. One day a stone hit my leg. This sort of harassment was a daily affair. But there were exceptions. My neighbours and friends were very concerned for our welfare. I remember our milkman in particular. A poor Sindhi, he used to say, 'Mother, you will stay with me if there is any problem. Although I am poor, I will take good care of you.' The government's attitude towards us was very hostile. Government officials and others who did not wish to see this land independent were always suspicious of us.
We were very depressed about the fact that the country was at war and we were stuck in Pakistan and could not return home. We were totally cut off from friends and family. The only way to learn about home was through radio broadcasts. We used to listen to radio very secretively, having reduced the volume and closed all shutters and windows to the house. Naturally in that state of mind, we were all down mentally, but whenever we learnt of the successes of the Muktijoddhas on the ground, our spirits were lifted tremendously. Although we feared losing the war, we felt in our hearts that no matter what the cost we must gain independence and free Sheikh Mujib. However, none of us suspected that the war would be over so soon. We were heartbroken when we learnt of the killing of martyrs from BBC Radio, many of whom were Hashim's closest friends. The heart rendering news of the killing of Dr. Jyotirmoy Guhathakurta, Dr. GC Deb and others took their toll on us. I felt helpless about comforting Hashim in any way when he heard the news of the killing his boyhood friends Shahidullah Kaiser and Munier Chowdhury. Anger and hatred for the Pakistanis grew so strong that we didn't feel like staying in their midst for a moment longer. This is how we spent the nine months of the war. The country gained independence on December 16. We were unable to express our joy due to our hostile surroundings. The only solace was that we greeted other like-minded Bengalis stuck there with us in secret and congratulated our brave boys at home in our hearts.
The Pakistani government gave the option to Bengali officers. Those who opted to remain in Pakistan would not be removed from their jobs. Naturally, with the exception of a handful of officers, all Bengali officers and families wanted to go home. Those officers who chose to stay were made Pakistani nationals and the others who decided to come back were fired from their jobs on July 11, 1972. All travel links between newly independent Bangladesh and Pakistan were severed. However, many retired Bengali officers escaped from Pakistan and made their way back to Bangladesh in this period. Suddenly we found certain families gone. They never shared their plans with close friends and aides, such was the time then.
There was no question of remaining there since Bangladesh had become independent. But running away secretly was not a mentality shared by my husband and friends. Besides, there were many Bengalis there who did not have sufficient financial resources to take the long road home. These included servants, gardeners, fishermen and many other classes of people with dependents. To help them, Hashim and others had formed a committee during the war to give protection, financial aid and help on their return to the homeland. Committee members included A.K.M. Ahsan, Shafiul Azam, Anwar Uddin Khan and others. Leaving all of them behind and running off into the night was not a notion we entertained. With the expulsion of Bengalis from the civil service, their children were banned from attending school. The ladies, including myself, set up a make-shift school so that our children might not be deprived of education where the ladies used to teach various subjects.
A few days later, the Pakistani authorities gathered all the Bengali families together from various areas. Two to three families were forced to live in one house. Suddenly one day, we found police patrolling the neighbourhood. The authorities announced that no Bengali may venture out of houses. Around 10:30 pm somebody was banging the door furiously. When we opened it, we found the police who informed us that we were all detained under Pakistani law and would be transported to camps within 30 minutes! We were given the option --- Bengali officers may choose to go alone or with families to the camps. I climbed over the fence to my neighbour's house (Mr. A.K.M. Ahsan's residence) to ask bhabi about what we should do. We decided to let our husbands go alone at this moment because it was impossible to gather everything in half an hour and the children were small. We were totally unprepared to move at this juncture, so we stayed.
The authorities assured us that the families who stayed behind would be kept together. They took our husbands away in the dead of night. Where they were being taken, how long they would be imprisoned, what would be done to them, when they would be released, if at all, when would the families be reunited were all unanswered questions. Next morning when my two children, Tonmoy aged 7, and Snigdho aged 4, woke up to find their beloved father gone, they showered me with a thousand questions to which I had no answers. After they were taken away, the families were free to move around, but felt no peace of mind. After 3 - 4 days, I received a letter from Hashim. He informed us that the authorities had incarcerated all of them in Kadirabad camp located in Gujranwala district in Punjab, where they had arrived at 3 a.m. in the morning!
We ladies started making preparations to join our husbands. My elderly mother who had come to visit us was also stuck in Pakistan. My mother had decided to come and see her youngest daughter after the war broke out, since there was no way to learn of our fate. It was my mother who gave me the strength to join my husband.
At this time, my husband's good friend Abdul Baten offered to take me to the camp to visit Hashim. Although he was a Bengali, he taught at the university and so had not been incarcerated with the rest of them. With Mr. Baten's aid, all of us, including the children, moved to Mr. Ehtesham's house which was located near the camp. Mr. Ehtesham and his spouse helped us greatly. The next day we went to visit the camp with a big cauldron of khichuri and some cooked chicken.
When we arrived at camp, all the inmates were thunderstruck to see me as no other Bengali had gone to visit them. I found 7 - 8 of them living in a single bungalow, unshaven faces attired only in lungi and genji with no one to look after them. I was terribly heartbroken to see them in this state. The camp authorities brought their food while I was there - a couple of chapattis and a large bowl of curry with one / two pieces of meat floating around
Thankfully, they didn't have to eat that rubbish on that day. The 20 - 25 inmates all had the food we took with us to the camp.
My sons were ecstatic to be reunited with their father. The little time they had with their father, they wouldn't let him out of their sight, insisting that he feed them, wash their mouth and sit on his lap. Soon it was time to leave. All of them stared vacantly after us as we left, not knowing when the next visit would come, if at all. After we returned, all the family members of the other Bengali officers swooped down on us wanting to know of the state of their loved ones.
A week or so after my visit to Kadirabad camp, Hashim astonished all of us by turning up at the house one day! He informed us that the Pakistani authorities had decided to move senior Bengali officers with families to Warsak camp in Peshawar. We were informed that this would take place on 5 June 1973. We only took clothing with us. All of us were put on a bus. At least 30 families were crammed on to that bus! What a situation! Nowhere to stand, sit or breathe! On top of that drivers halted frequently for tea and gossip and Urdu songs blasting away loudly all the way to our destination. No consideration at all for the passengers on their minds. We finally arrived the following morning after traveling all night. There began another harrowing experience. The camp was already inhabited by some Bengali air force officers and their families. We shared the stingy accommodation with them. It was terribly hot at that time of the year. My elderly mother was with us and my husband had no job, whether we would ever be allowed to return to Bangladesh, and the sheer feeling of helplessness that came from the fact that we could be killed at any time - all these uncertainties took me to near breaking point.
Besides, there were other discomforts like cooking and eating in the same room, and that too on a single kerosene stove. Once in a while, meat and vegetables used to come to the camp for which we had to stand in a long queue and if one was late then everything would be sold out. At first, these conditions seemed unbearable. As time went by, I guess we all became used to it. This is how we spent a couple of months. All the while, thoughts of home and loved ones always hovered at the back of our minds. Who was alive, who had been killed, how long we would be stuck in this God forsaken land, all these issues made life a living hell. While the rest of us suffered from depression, Hashim became more and more indignant. He used to say, if and when we return, we shall return with all Bengalis as heroes. I never thought of leaving my husband behind and fleeing with my children. All the time, I believed in the notion that when we returned, we would all come back together. The worst pain during that period was emotional, something that I cannot put into words. Living from day to day was a pain. For relief, we organised regular prayers, qul khwani, etc, praying to Allah for a swift and safe return home and for the safety of those at home. Finally, under international pressure, the Pakistanis were forced to release us on 22 October 1973. Bengalis were granted freedom after the relaxing of Martial Law in Pakistan. Under the supervision of the International Red Cross, planes chartered from Ariana Afghan Airlines repatriated the Bengalis stuck in Pakistan.
How can one describe one's feelings at that time, especially when the plane was touching down at Kurmitola airport in Dhaka? It was impossible to let anyone know who would be coming home and when. Even then, some anxious relatives of compatriots stuck in Pakistan always used to wait at the airport in case they were on board. Thus, we too found some of our relatives waiting for us. Najmuddin Hashim found his close associate and friend Mr. Enayet Karim, the first Foreign Secretary of independent Bangladesh, waiting to receive us, and it was a very joyous reunion. We felt that a great weight had been lifted from our chests when we breathed the fresh air of Dhaka. Then we went home. Seeing and meeting so many after such a long time, it was an occasion of endless joy and relief. Besides the exhilaration of being free, I also experienced how greatly we had come to hate Pakistan. That is why even after our release from the camp, I didn't feel like going back to our house in Islamabad to gather our things. The abhorrence was so great that we chose to leave everything behind and come home to our dear and beloved sovereign Bangladesh. The relief of having survived the ordeal was overwhelming and cannot be described in words.
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Nurun Nahar Hashim is a social worker and wife of the late Syed Najmuddin Hashim, The article is a translation by Syed Mansur Hashim from the Bengali version published in Weekly Rupantar.
Source:
Dhaka Courier Online December, 2006,
Courtesy: Syed Mansur Hashim
