1971: Dreadful Experiences

The Days of Slavery

- Nazim Mahmud

Theater artist and cultural organizer; Deputy Registrar, University of Rajshahi, Rajshahi

“Ask them to shoot you right in the middle of your forehead”, I looked up into the eyes of the speaker who prescribed such an advice. “That’ll be a painless death, absolutely painless”, said Dr. Syed Sajjad Hussain, my professor in the University of Dhaka. Incidentally, he was the Vice Chancellor of the University of Rajshahi at that time and I was simply a staff member there. So, he could crack a joke in front of me, even if it was about as serious a matter as life and death.

These are the eye witness accounts of the liberation war of Bangladesh in April 1971, from the book ১৯৭১: ভয়াবহ অভিজ্ঞতা (1971: Dreadful Experiences). The narrators are the country's educationists, writers, professionals, freedom fighters to businessmen and housewives.

Chapter: March 1971

Events translated from the book ১৯৭১: ভয়াবহ অভিজ্ঞতা. The complete collection is available here - 1971: Dreadful Experiences

[justify]The posts collaborated here are the translations of eye witness accounts of the 1971 liberation war and independence of Bangladesh, from the book - ১৯৭১: ভয়াবহ অভিজ্ঞতা (1971: Dreadful Experiences).

Face to Face With Death

-Maqid Haider
Poet; Public Relations Officer, Bangladesh Small and Cottage Industries Corporation (BSCIC), Dhaka

If only they had looked up, it would have been certain death for my mother and me.

April 10, I still cannot clearly grasp everything from that afternoon on that fateful day in ’71. I cannot say for certain how long the two of us had waited facing death that day. The realization that we had escaped death took some time to sink in.

The Uncertain Journey

- Tahmina Zaman
Educator; Story writer; Assistant Professor, Home Economics College, Dhaka
Current Location: Syracuse, New York, USA

It was well past sunset, but we hadn't realized it, since all the doors and windows were shut tight. A bunch of us were confined under a bed since earlier in the day. This was the beginning of April, 1971, we were surrounded by death.

The sunny, beautiful afternoon turned into a horrific evening as several Sabre Jets were flying over us. Till then we had no idea what was about to happen. I was just about to feed my 8 month old baby. After feeding him a few teaspoons of milk, I was about to give him some more, and then…my hand shook fiercely and the spoon dropped. A terrible noise broke out that shook the entire house. The tin walls of the house rattled loudly. All of us in that room were stunned. No one made a peep of a sound, there was only fear and anxiety in our eyes. What was about to happen? The scared little baby in my arms buried his face in my chest.

Right Before My Eyes

-Ahmed Bashir
Novelist, Dhaka

On the 7th of April, we came from Moghbazar to Puran Dhaka (Old Dhaka). There was an eerie silence in Moghbazar area by then. It felt like a ghost town - desolate and deserted. From time to time we could hear the sound of Azaan from the mosque next to our house. It felt as if the sound melted itself with the smell of gunpowder.

In Front of the Loved Ones

- Nazma Begum
Housewife, Dhaka

26 March 1971, Bangladesh Water Development Board, O&M Circle, Sylhet. We used to live in the Superintendent Engineer’s house. I had sent Tajul Islam, our servant, to bring some eggs for breakfast that morning. He returned with the news that a curfew had been declared and a rickshaw-puller and a local betel-leaf seller had been shot to death by the Pakistani soldiers. A little later we observed from our balcony that many people gathered at a place called Maniratila. I wondered what the gathering was about. How many were being shot to death by the barbaric aggressor army? We were panic-stricken and remained at home. Curfew was being enforced in Sylhet from dawn to dusk almost everyday. Hence, people had much difficulty with their everyday lives. My husband, shaheed Altaf Hossain would do some grocery for our daily meals every evening after the curfew was lifted. Our lives carried on like this.

This is from the translation project some of us are working on of the book 1971: Dreadful Experiences (১৯৭১: ভয়াবহ অভিজ্ঞতা). The book is a collection of witness accounts to 1971 Liberation War and the Independence of Bangladesh by the country's educationists, writers, professionals. The book is edited by Rashid Hayder and was first published on the Victory Day of 1989.

An incident near the end of the liberation war agitates me even today, it paralyses me. I do not recall the date clearly but it was around the third week of November, 1971. I used to live in the first house on Road. 32, Dhanmondi, Dhaka. It was near 4 or 4:30 in the afternoon. I had gone to Azimpur Colony with my own plans. Two of my friends used to live there, Naser Chowdhury, who was a student of the Engineering University back then and a famous goalkeeper in those days; and Santu from the Mohammedan Football Club. We were talking about a lot of things for quite some time - the ongoing liberation war, the freedom of our country, the activities of the freedom fighters, the atrocities of the Pak army and their Bengali collaborators- the Razakars, etc.