Book Review: The Colonel Who Would Not Repent – The Bangladesh War and its Unquiet Legacy, by Salil Tripathi

I have been fascinated and perplexed by Bangladesh (actually more perplexed than fascinated) ever since I became interested in international politics. One of the many unanswered questions I’ve had about Bangladesh is how the founding father of Bangladesh and almost his entire family, including ten-year old son Russell Sheikh, could be killed within less than 4 years of its independence. I remember once discussing this with a stranger on a train – I must have been fifteen then and my correspondent had made a claim to extensive knowledge of global politics – how Bangabhandu and his entire family could be killed by Bangladeshi army officers, who were unpunished as yet, then. ‘Mujibur Rahman was a good man, but he was surrounded by bad people, especially his sons, who were really nasty. One of them once abducted a senior army officer’s wife, just because he liked her and you know what he did to her, and the army officer couldn’t do anything about it. Just like that. They were above the law. The army men hated Majuibur Rahman and his family so much that when they launched their coup, they killed them all.’ It would be an understatement to say that I was shell-shocked. To be honest, I did not fully believe that story, traces of which can be found on the internet, such as here and here.

As I grew older, I kept looking for answers to my questions. I found some answers, but until I read Salil Tripathi’s latest book, The Colonel Who Would Not Repent - The Bangladesh War and its Unquiet Legacy, no one had satisfactorily answered my questions regarding Mujibur Rahman’s killing and the aftermath. Tripathi gives a number of interlinked reasons as he explains how the mid-level army officers who plotted and carried out Mujib’s executions not only succeeded, but also got away for so long, until Mujib’s daughter Hasina came to power in 1996 and set in motion the wheels of justice (or revenge, if you will).

The Colonel Who Would Not Repent is not just about Mujib’s killing and the delivery of justice (or retribution) to his killers. Rather, it is a concise history of Bengal, starting from the arrival of Islam leading to the East India Company’s rule and Curzon’s partition of Bengal. The 350-odd page tome ends in January 2010 when Farooq Rahman and Mujib’s other killers went to the gallows.

I found Mujib’s personality, as sketched by Tripathi, to be fascinating. Tripathi tells us that Mujib was a physically weak child, taking two years to complete his third grade. He also needed eye surgery and missed four years of schooling as a child. However, when he reached adulthood, he was tall and handsome. He married at the age of eighteen. He studied law, but never graduated. He became close to Suhrawardy and stood by him during the Calcutta riots, which Suhrawardy was responsible for. However, after Pakistan became independent, he was vociferous in his opposition to Urdu. In short, I got the impression that Mujib was an emotional man with charisma who, if he hadn’t become a successful politician, would have turned out to be one of those absolute no-gooders who drink tea at way-side stalls and pontificate endlessly.

As for the story that one of Mujib’s sons had abducted and raped an army officer’s wife, Tripathi merely says that ‘there had been rumours that an Awami politician had misbehaved with Brigadier Dalim’s wife at a party. He had complained to Mujib, but Mujib hadn’t taken the complaint seriously.’ This was only one of the various reasons why some army officers got really annoyed with Mujib and killed him, along with his family.

The reasons for Bengalis in East Pakistan wanting their own country has been well-documented and repeated ad nauseam. During the 1965 Indo-Pak war, many in East Pakistan were angry that East Pakistan was left undefended. West Pakistan got the bulk of resources and development. When Cyclone Bhola stuck, West Pakistan sat back and smirked. On top of it all, Punjabis could not understand why Bengalis loved to sing and dance and follow other Bengali customs which seemed to be entirely “Hindu”. These are covered by Tripathi too and there are no big surprises. However, The Colonel Who Would Not Repent also provides answers to a few other questions which have tormented me for a long time. How could Pakistan and Bangladesh resume normal ties and become rather good friends, if Pakistani troops had indeed massacred over 3 million Bengalis, as widely claimed, I’ve always wondered? Also, if India had sacrificed its soldiers so that Bangladesh could be free, how come there is so much animosity towards India in Bangladesh? I have blogged about these questions in the past. Tripathi offers some answers. It should not be forgotten that East Bengal had in 1947 opted to be with Pakistan, rather than India. There are many more reasons which are of course much more nuanced than I could explain in the course of a book review. Do please read this excellent book to find out for yourself.

Did Pakistan play a role in Mujib’s killing? Tripathi does not rule out the possibility. How else could Pakistan come out in support of the new rulers within a few hours of Mujib’s execution? Tripathi wonders.

After Mujib’s assassination, Khondaker Mostaq Ahmad took over power. Mujib’s killers received praise and promotions. Various leaders perceived to be pro-India were arrested and less than two months later, on 3 November 1975, the imprisoned leaders were executed in jail, allegedly on Khondaker Mostaq Ahmad’s orders. At the same time, a counter-coup took place on 3 November 1975, allegedly at India’s behest and Khaled Mosharraf took over power. Four days later, on 7 November 1975, there was a counter-coup to the counter-coup and Ziaur Rahman was 'the last man left standing'. Trust me, Tripathi explains all of this much better and in greater detail and you’d better hear it from him.

Interestingly, Tripathi tells us that when Bengalis in East Pakistan started to fight for independence, the Indian government had wondered if the Indian state of West Bengal also join the struggle and seek unification with Bangladesh. I found that funny. Tripathi is painfully dispassionate when he says that 'the decision to send the troops into East Pakistan was particularly hard and difficult for India, since its foreign policy was based on peaceful co-existence and non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries, in particular its neighbours. The policy was based on hard, cynical and practical reasons – India didn’t want the world to poke its nose in Kashmir, and it already had Tibetan refugees, it did not want to appear to be interfering in internal affairs of others.’

Did Pakistani forces kill three million people during the period from 25 March 1971 until the surrender of Pakistani forces? The strongest argument agains this number has been put forth by Sarmila Bose and Tripathi takes note of the various discrepancies in the mainstream narrative, but he does not offer a concluding verdict in this on-going debate.

Tripathi is a good raconteur, but never ceases to be a neutral reporter, always taking care to present both sides of the story. For example, as he examines the various types of discrimination faced by Chakmas living in the Chittagong Hill Tracts and other minorities in Bangladesh, he wonders why Bengalis who faced so much persecution at the hands of the West Pakistanis find it so difficult to be so fair to other minorities who are even more vulnerable.

Tripathi does not talk about the mutiny by Bangladesh Rifles' personnel in 2009, which ended in the deaths of so many officers, including its Director General Major General Shakil Ahmed and his wife. I wish he had. This is the only grouse I have against this book.

As the book ends, one is left wondering about Bangladesh’s future. As more and more young Bengalis are attracted to Islamic fundamentalism, will it go the Pakistan route? Unlike Pakistan, Bangladesh was not formed on the basis of religion, rather, it was formed because the majority of people living in Bangladesh wanted to be as much Bengali as Muslim. However, if Bangladesh is as much Bengali as West Bengal, would it become a poorer cousin of India and this seems to be unacceptable to many in Bangladesh. I could go on, but I am going to end here with a strong recommendation to all my readers to buy a copy of The Colonel Who Would Not Repent and read it. Just like Colonel Farooq Rahman, you won't repent either.

The first three pages of this 2010 article in the Caravan form the prologue of The Colonel Who Would Not Repent, in a slightly modified form.

Tripathi is also the author of Offence: The Hindu Case

Book Review: Mirror City, by Chitrita Banerji

A tall, dark girl with a square jaw, a Bengali from Calcutta, studying in the US, marries a fellow Bengali. Nothing extra-ordinary about such a marriage, except that the bridegroom happens to be a Muslim from East Pakistan. Matters get even more interesting when the couple, Uma Basu and Iqbal Mansoor, decide to return to the bridegroom’s hometown, Dakha, now the capital of a newly liberated Bangladesh.

The most interesting aspect which strikes the reader immediately about the country in which Mirror City is set is that Bangladesh doesn’t seem to have much love for India, though India has just played a crucial role in the creation of Bangladesh, an aspect I have examined in some of my previous posts, such as this and this and this. Iqbal’s friends have only sarcasm for India and Indian bureaucrats posted at the Indian High Commission in Dakha. When Uma asks the cook to get her a dozen clay lamps from the market for Diwali, Iqbal warns Uma to not advertise her ‘Hindu’ origins, though when they lived in the US, he used to say that living with subterfuge and pretence is worse than death.

Banerji tells us that Dakha had a 'suppressed seething' as the town’s 'quiet charm was transformed into the rude clamour of a capital city'. There is subterfuge and tension in the air, even though the Prime Minister is popular, since he is surrounded by a coterie, which is resented by many, including some in the military. There is extreme poverty as hunger stalks the land. Everyone speaks Bengali, the women wear sarees and the weather is the same as in West Bengal, but Uma keeps noticing the differences between Bangladesh and West Bengal. When the monsoon breaks out, she makes plans to celebrate with khichuri and Hilsa with its roe, but Iqbal and his best friend Shaukat call out for beef bhuna instead of Hilsa, to go with the Khichuri. Much later, on a different occasion, Uma recoils to see chicken cooked with a coating of spiced poppy seed paste, though she admits that the chicken was delicious. On the whole, Uma’s feelings towards Bangladesh are ambivalent and this uncertainty and even puzzlement continue till the end.

Uma finds a job with an international agency and she enjoys the work and the freedom it gives her. Iqbal has a circle of friends who drop into their house without invitations and stay on for tasty meals cooked by Uma, with assistance from efficient household helpers. Iqbal’s friends come in all sizes, shapes and ideologies. There’s Shaukat, Iqbal’s closest friend, a confirmed bachelor who works as a bureaucrat. Shaukat has a good imported Japanese car and access to diplomatic dos. Shaukat does his best to make Uma feel at home. Fayezur Rahman, an architect, the son of wealthy parents, is equally likeable and later in the novel, marries one Lily, who is just as affable. Maqbul Ahmad is at the other end of the spectrum, with his menacing bulk, swarthy skin, job as a cop and close ties to the Prime Minister’s cousin. Uma hates Maqbul from the beginning. Jamal, with his war-time wound, elicits some sympathy from the reader at first, but Uma doesn’t help him sustain it, as he makes a fool of himself over the petite and attractive Nasreen, who is married to an activist named Iftikar. I found Nasreen’s character to be the most interesting, especially because Iqbal despises her. Towards the end of the novel, we see Uma become friends with Nasreen, without being judgmental, but the friendship doesn’t last very long.

Warning - Spoilers ahead

The blurb says that when in Dakha, Uma finds herself unexpectedly falling in love. After the first dozen pages, I assumed that Uma would be having an affair with Shaukat, since he seemed to be the most considerate of the people around her. However, when Banerji unwraps the tall, rich and handsome Alim Choudhury, with grey-blue eyes inherited from a Portuguese pirate, it seems to be a case of instant mutual attraction. One doesn’t see Uma show much resistance as she is swept away.

At first Iqbal and Uma stay in a handsome, well-appointed flat in a nice neighbourhood, one belonging to one of Zaman’s bachelor friends who is in Abu Dhabi. But when the friend announces his plan to return earlier than expected, Uma’s marriage runs into trouble. Since Iqbal is an academic, their joint income doesn’t go too far and the best rented accommodation they can afford is quite miserable. Uma and Iqbal are forced to stay with Maqbul in his luxurious, government allotted flat for a while. Iqbal resents the fact that he can’t give Uma the house she wants. Iqbals contempt for foreign diplomats posted in Bangladesh, allegedly on account of their contempt for all things native, makes things worse. They stop talking to each other, except when required. By this time, Uma is having a roaring affair with Alim Choudhury.

The political atmosphere keeps getting worse. There is talk of a coup. Things come to a head when Iftikar is arrested all of a sudden. Iqbal and Uma are forced to shelter Nasreen for a night, an act which could get them into serious trouble, if detected by the authorities or if it comes to the ears of their friend Maqbul. This happens before they move into Maqbul’s flat. From the time Iftikar is arrested, Iqbal, Uma and all the friends are involved in a game of cat and mouse with Maqbul, who is firmly on the side of the authorities. Nasreen never elicited much sympathy from Iqbal and his friends and when Uma finds out that Nasreen has been sleeping with Maqbul, they detest her even more.

When the coup finally takes place (Zia-ur-Rahman is never mentioned by name and neither is Bangabandhu Mujib), there is a big change in the power equation and Maqbul disappears. His friends and former classmates assume, without much sorrow or sympathy, he has been imprisoned, if not executed. By that time Iqbal and Uma’s marriage has irretrievably broken down and Uma decides to leave for India.

Banerji’s handling of the ending is a master act and reminded me that nothing is as it appears and no human being is entirely black or white. I had almost written Alim Choudhury off as a womanizer who had absolutely no desire to ever get a divorce from his fair-skinned and petite wife Najma, with whom he claimed to have nothing in common, and marry Uma. I also did not expect Uma to part from Iqbal on a friendly note. However, Banerji achieves all of that. Please read this excellent novel to find out how.

Banerji writes very well, her English simple, but beautiful, just like the sarees Uma wears in this novel. I understand that Banerji had earlier in her life, much like her heroine Uma, married a Bangladeshi and lived in Dakha, before getting a divorce and leaving Bangladesh. And not for this reason alone, Mirror City has a touch of truth which only adds to the fantastic fiction woven by Banerji, who until now has only written cookery books. Banerji currently lives in Boston.

A Conversation With Sayed Ahmed Raza, My Friend From Bangladesh

My friend Sayed Ahmed Raza is a founding partner at Ahmed & Farooq LP, a leading law firm in Bangladesh. Raza, as we called him at the National Law School of India University, was a couple of years my junior and graduated from NLSIU in the year 2000. I haven’t seen Raza since 1998, the year I graduated, but we’ve always managed to keep in touch, thanks to emails, facebook and skype. Recently Raza conveyed some sound bytes to be posted on Winnowed.

Winnowed: Career-wise, what have you done since your graduation from NLSIU in 2000?

Raza: Immediately after I came back, I worked as the co-ordinator for a project run by the Bangladesh Bar Council called “Human Rights Lawyering for Young Lawyers.” It involved coordinating the activities of 78 local Bar Associations and travelling to all parts of my country. I thoroughly enjoyed the job, which lasted for a year. I then started practising in Dakha and did a mix of criminal and civil litigation. More of the former than the latter. In 2002, I went to Khartoum in Sudan to work for the United Nations Development Programme for Refugees. I was there for two and a half years, helping Ethiopian and Eritrean refugees who had escaped to Sudan to escape the turmoil in their own countries. On my return, I resumed my litigation practice. I co-founded Ahmed & Farooq LP in the year 2007. These days, I do some non-litigation work – drafting agreements etc., but my mainstay is still litigation and arbitration.

Winnowed: Can you please cite an interesting case you have been involved in?

Raza: Recently our Supreme Court awarded the death sentence to one Abdul Quader Molla for his role in the 1971 genocide. Prior to his conviction, Molla had filed a defamation claim against certain politicians for the statements they made against him. I defended two of those politicians, namely Ms. Syeda Sajeda Choudhury, the Deputy Leader of Parliament and Ms. Motia Chowdhury, a Minister, against those defamation claims.

Winnowed: What made you choose NLSIU?

Raza: I come from a family of lawyers. Both my grandfathers were lawyers and my father is a leading Senior Counsel in Dhaka as well as President of the Bongabandhu Angibi Parishad. NLSIU is rather well-known among the legal fraternity in Bangladesh – even in 1995 when it was relatively new and the only National Law School in India. Students from Bangladesh have traditionally gone to the UK for their legal studies. I decided to give NLSIU a shot, just to do something different.

Winnowed: Did you consider taking up a job in India after graduation?

Raza: No. I was always clear that I wanted to return to Dhaka and practice law here.

Winnowed: Was it difficult to qualify in Bangladesh with an Indian law degree?

Raza: Not for me. In Bangladesh, just as in India, only Bangladeshi citizens can become advocates. One needs to take an enrolment exam for this purpose. Actually two exams, one to qualify to practice in the lower courts and the second one, which can be taken only if an advocate has at least two years’ post qualification experience, to practice in the High Court and Supreme Court. Since I had an Indian degree, I applied to the Bar Council for my degree to be recognised, which it did without raising any issue, after which I could take the first enrolment exam. I did that immediately on my return.

Winnowed: Please name a few people who have a made a big difference to your life.

Raza: My father, Abdul Baset Majumdar has made the biggest difference to my life. He has been my role model ever since I can remember.

Winnowed: If you were to advice other Bangladeshi students who are considering an Indian law degree, what would you tell them?

Raza: I would say that a law degree from a leading National Law School in India would give every budding lawyer a head-start in terms of developing analytical skills and learning the fundamentals of law, which are common for all common-law countries.

Winnowed: What’s your happiest memory from your time in Bangalore?

Raza: I have very happy memories of my time in the Men’s Halls of Residence. Every day was a special day. I will never forget my mates from those wonderful days.

Winnowed: And your saddest or the most unhappy experience?

Raza: I don’t remember any.

Winnowed: Your family?

Raza: I have been blessed with two daughters, Rifah Shahana Majumder and Rameen Shahanna Majumder . My wife Shahana Rahmatullah Annie is very supportive.

Winnowed: What are your hobbies?

Raza: Music, movies and reading Bangla newspapers

Winnowed: One last question - What do you think can be done to improve Indo-Bangladeshi relations?

Raza: India has changed a lot since the time it helped us win independence. The middle-classes in India do not hate Bangladesh. The Indian judiciary believes in fair play. For example, in the case of The Chairman, Railway Board & Ors vs Mrs. Chandrima Das & Ors [January, 2000], the Indian Supreme Court awarded compensation to a Bangladeshi girl who was raped in the Howrah Railway station. However, we also have instances like the case of Felani Khatun where no action has been taken. One gets the feeling that the common man in India does not have much goodwill towards us. To some extent, it is the politicians’ job to educate the masses, but I also understand that it is not an easy task. In Bangladesh, there is a big split between moderates like me who want democracy and have good relations with India and the supporters of the fundamentalist Jamaat e Islami who want Shariah rule.

Book Review: The Blood Telegram – India’s Secret War in East Pakistan, by Gary J. Bass

The 1971 Bangladesh War which led to an independent Bangladesh was post-independence India’s finest hour. Coinciding with the Vietnam War, arguably America’s worst decade since the Second World War, events in Bangladesh gave the Americans an opportunity to do the ‘right’ thing, an opportunity which Nixon’s and Kissinger’s America did not fail to miss. Gary Bass, professor of politics and international affairs at Princeton University, has written a meticulously researched book which lays out the innards of US policy making during those tumultuous days. It is well-known that Nixon (as advised by his National Security Advisor Kissinger) viewed the conflict strictly in terms of the cold war struggle with the Soviet Union. Behind such ruthlessness and cold manipulations lay Nixon’s affection and admiration for Yahya Khan, a man he compared to Lincoln, and his contempt for India, which he thought needed a good famine. Just as Lincoln had fought to maintain the USA’s unity, Nixon expected Yahya to fight to keep East Pakistan. Asking Yahya to deal with the Awami League leaders in Calcutta was, for Nixon, akin to expecting Lincoln to deal with Jefferson Davis.

Nixon thought the Indians were as much at fault as the Pakistanis. Time and again he threatened to cut off aid to India and he actually did so once the war started. The US threat carried some weight - despite so much animosity towards India, the US was giving India more aid than the rest of the world combined. Just before the war started, the US cut off 70% of the most crucial military aid – around USD 17 million – grounding India’s C119 transport planes and stopping all ammunition. Nixon also ended funding for a food program and stopped a loan amounting to USD 100 million.

However, the USA still had a few good men who wanted to do the right thing. One such man was Archer Blood, the American consul-general in Dacca (as the city was then known). A humanist, Blood sent cable after cable to his superiors pleading with them to act to restrain the Pakistani government from continuing with its suppression of democracy. He was ignored. At the cost of this career, Blood sent a “dissent cable” (permitted by law since the Vietnam War in order to encourage insiders to speak out) signed by 29 colleagues saying: “Our government has failed to denounce the suppression of democracy. Our government has failed to denounce atrocities. Our government has evidenced what many will consider moral bankruptcy.”

Bass, who went through many hundreds of hours of de-classified White House tapes and interviewed dozens of officials in India and the US to write the Blood Telegram, tells us that Archer Blood’s career did suffer. However, his cables were leaked to the press and did raise a hue and cry. Blood was not the only good American who helped the Bengali cause. Senator Edward Kennedy visited India, along with American experts on development and refugee relief who could attest to the malnourishment and misery underwent by the refugees. Travelling on transport provided by the Indian government (which laid out the red carpet), he visited many refugee camps. When he got back to the US, Ted Kennedy announced that he had seen the ‘the most appalling tide of human misery in modern times.' The Concert for Bangladesh organised by Ravi Shankar and George Harrison at Madison Square Garden four months before the start of the war added to the growing chorus against supporting Pakistan.

However, Nixon and Kissinger held their ground and after the war started going badly for Pakistan, resorting to extreme brinksmanship to prevent an Indian assault against West Pakistan after the surrender in the East. The US supported Pakistan not just because it felt India had strayed into the Soviet camp, but also because Nixon and Kissinger thought that Yahya Khan made the perfect courier for establishing ties with Zhou Enlai’s China. Discarding the option of using the Romanians or even the French to establish a link with Peking, Kissinger had Yahya carry messages to Peking and even spread a canard that Kissinger was laid up ill in Pakistan while on a visit so that he could fly to Peking and meet with Zhou Enlai. Kissinger was astounded by Zhou Enlai’s animosity and vituperative hatred towards India. Putting a match to such gunpowder came naturally to Kissinger. Pledging his support for Pakistan, Zhou Enlai suggested that the 1962 Chinese defeat of India could possibly be repeated. When the war finally started on 3 December 1971, the Chinese did not seriously threaten India. If they had, China would have opened itself to the possibility of attack from a million Soviet soldiers on its borders. In any event, the Indians had taken care to wait till the mountains were impassable with snow.

At the end of it all, one is left with no doubt that to the list of victims of US imperialism such as Vietam, Laos, Cambodia and Chile should be added Bangladesh. Also, that Kissinger should be tried for his role in such callous disregard of human rights, akin to any war criminal.

The Blood Telegram is interesting not only for the exposure of the politically incorrect dialogue (by today’s standards) which emerges from those White House tapes – the word ‘rape’ is used often, in the context of what India did to Pakistan, but also for snippets such as that Indian generals shared some of their Pakistani counterparts’ stereotypes about Bengali cowardice and were not very impressed with Bengali fighters. General Sam Manekshaw is quoted as saying, ‘you Bengalis run, you don’t fight.’

Despite India having excellent relations with most of the developing world, India received little or no support from countries outside the Iron Curtain. The entire Arab world, Iran and other Islamic countries sided with Pakistan, taking the line that maintaining Pakistan’s unity was of paramount importance. Yugoslavia was an exception as was (unsurprisingly) Israel, though Indian did not have diplomatic ties with Israel at that time. Iran and Jordan went to the extent of sending their US supplied fighter planes to Pakistan, on the secret understanding with Nixon-Kissinger that any loss would be replaced by the United States. Bass argues that such a move, just another example of cow-boy style behaviour from the Nixon-Kissinger duo, was in breach of US law, which forbade the US from giving military aid to Pakistan, either directly or indirectly.

When Nixon sent the USS Enterprise sailing towards the Bay of Bengal, he had no intention of ever resorting to force against India. US public opinion would not have accepted such action, Bass tells us. Unlike India’s aircraft carrier INS Vikrant which relied on a steam boiler, the USS Enterprise was nuclear powered and could sail around the world without refuelling. INS Vikrant was lucky if its boiler worked. Three months before the war, the Indian navy had declared INS Vikrant inoperable, since it had a crack in its boiler. However, the boiler was patched up and INS Vikrant took part in the blockade of Chittagong. Not only was the USS Enterprise five times the size of INS Vikrant, one of its escorts the Tripoli was bigger than INS Vikrant. Nevertheless, India did not fall for the US bluff and held its nerve.

The Soviet Union too was not very keen that India should get involved in a war with Pakistan over Bangladesh, but once the war started, it stood by India and kept vetoing Security Council resolutions calling for a ceasefire. The Indians knew that the Soviet Union would not apply its veto indefinitely. In the meantime, the General Assembly passed a resolution calling for a ceasefire. 104 countries voted in favour and only 11 voted against it. Even Yugoslavia voted for the ceasefire. Thankfully for India, General Assembly resolutions aren’t binding. Finally on 13 December, the Soviets informed India that there would be no more vetos in the Security Council. By that time, India managed to squeeze out a surrender from Lt. General Niazi

Bass notes that, unlike in the case of Vietnam, Nixon and Kissinger were able to deflect any blame for their behaviour during the Bangladesh War. Two years after the Bangladesh War, just after he became secretary of state, a Gallup Poll found that Kissinger was the most admired person in the US. Bass notes with sadness that when Mujib Ur Rehman was assassinated in August 1975 and military rule imposed in Bangladesh, India happily kept up normal ties with the new military ruler, despite having intervened in the name of democracy a few years earlier. On the whole, Bass seems to find Indians genuine and altruistic, while also scheming and manipulative, though he doesn’t say so in as many words.

Every time I read a book relating to Bangladesh, I keep asking myself a fundamental question - why aren’t India and Bangladesh better friends than they are? Why is it that within five years of the liberation of Bangladesh, in January 1976, Bangladesh re-established ties with Pakistan? Did the Pakistani army actually kill three million civilians during their crackdown on the liberation movement? To use an analogy, let’s assume that a Nazi Government had continued to be in power in defeated Germany after the Second World War. Would Israel have good relations with such a country? Why do so many Bangladeshis want to have, as good a relationship with Pakistan, as with India? Why are so many Bangladeshis friendlier towards Pakistan than towards India? Why is the Bangladesh National Party able to flourish in Bangladesh, even gaining power on a few occasions, despite being inimical towards India and friendlier towards Pakistan and despite being allied with the Jamaat-e-Islami which had collaborated with West Pakistan and opposed Bangladeshi independence? All these questions I had raised in this post dated March 2009.

The Blood telegram provides one important clue to the answers I’ve been looking for though it does not go out of the way to comment on the actual number of deaths which took place, other than saying that in June 1971, the USS State Department estimated that around two hundred thousand people had been killed. According to Bass, most of the victims of the Pakistani army were Hindus. Eighty or ninety percentage of the refugees were Hindus and the Pakistani army did everything possible to encourage the exodus. As Kenneth Keating, the US Ambassador to India explained to President Nixon, who couldn’t care less, the reason the refugees kept coming at the rate of 150,000 a day was ‘because they were killing the Hindus.’ According to Keating, at first the killings had been indiscriminate. After the Pakistani army got control of the large centres, the Pakistani army carried out a specific genocide against the Hindus. There was widespread rape, which again specifically targeted the Hindus. Hindu houses were marked with yellow H signs, in a manner eerily reminiscent of Nazi victimisation of the Jews.

The answer I have been looking for could be this. If Pakistani forces had indiscriminately killed Muslims and Hindus, Bangladesh’s collective consciousness would not permit good relations with Pakistan. However, except for the murder of some Muslim intellectuals, most of the victims of the Pakistani army were Hindus. Most of the relatives of those victims no longer live in Bangladesh (since they fled to India as refugees and never returned) and thus it is relatively easy for the current population of Bangladesh to accept Pakistan as just another fellow Islamic country.

On the question of whether three million Bengalis actually died at the hands of troops from West Pakistan, Sarmila Bose’s Dead Reckoning: Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War seeks to provide some answers.

“Dead Reckoning: Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War” by Sarmila Bose – Book Review

I’ve always wondered why India and Bangladesh aren’t better friends than they are. I mean, when soldiers from West Pakistan were carrying out a genocide in what’s now Bangladesh, one which caused the deaths of a few million Bengalis, India stepped in and helped the Bengalis gain independence, losing a few thousand of its soldiers in doing so. Why then do so many Bangladeshis want to have, as good a relationship with Pakistan as with India? Why are so many Bangladeshis friendlier towards Pakistan than towards India? Why is the Bangladesh National Party able to flourish in Bangladesh, even gaining power on a few occasions, despite being inimical towards India and friendlier towards Pakistan and despite being allied with the Jamaat-e-Islami which had collaborated with West Pakistan and opposed Bangladeshi independence? All these questions I had raised in this post dated March 2009.

I just finished reading a brilliant book by Sarmila Bose, a research fellow at Oxford, which has provided me with the answers I have been searching for so long. Of course, the answers provided by Dead Reckoning: Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War do raise further questions, but it is a very good start in getting a fix on what exactly happened in the run-up to Bangladesh’s independence, something which ought to have been done decades ago.

Bose questions many of the commonly held assumptions relating to the events of 1971 which led to Bangladesh’s independence. Was there actually a genocide by troops from West Pakistan against the Bengalis of East Pakistan? Were the Bengalis entirely innocent victims and were Pakistani federal troops the only aggressors, as portrayed by most media sources? Finally and most importantly, how many people died in those turbulent times? Did three million Bengalis actually die at the hands of troops from West Pakistan? Did India actually hold 93,000 Pakistani soldiers as PoWs?

Bose tries to answer these questions by analysing various events that took place during that period, especially the massacres and interviewing various participants in those events, taking the trouble to meet with Pakistanis, Bengali fighters, Bengali civilians and non-Bengali civilians as she seeks to find if commonly accepted wisdom is indeed true. For example, in order to verify details of the attack on Dacca University on the night of 25th- 26th March 1971 which is supposed to have resulted in the deaths of 300 innocent students and professors who were killed in cold blood, some in their dormitories as they slept and some rounded up and executed in the University grounds, Bose interviewed army officers such as Lt. Muhammad Ali Shah of 18 Punjab who took part in the attack, studied tape recordings of radio communications among Pakistani army officers during the attack (which are preserved at the Liberation War Museum in Dacca) and reviewed documents prepared by the US consulate in Dacca. The attack on Dacca University is particularly infamous since one Professor Nurul Ula managed to films some of the killings and this footage is actually available on YouTube. Bose found that the students at Dacca University were armed and had trained for battle. The training was mainly with dummy rifles and the students’ weaponry was of course no match for that of the soldiers’, but the fact is that it was not a massacre of sleeping victims, but a two-way battle. Soldiers enroute to the University had to clear barricades of felled trees and on reaching the University, there was some initial resistance before the soldiers prevailed.

During the attack on Dacca University, Rokeya Hall, the Women’s hostel is supposed to have been attacked, with girl students having to jump out of their hostel windows to reach safety. Bose’s research shows that most girl students had vacated their hostel by 25th March and only 7 girls were left, all of whom stayed with a tutor on the night of the attack and survived. Some like Professor Guhathakurta and Professor Maniruzzaman were taken away from their homes inside the campus and killed. One Rabindra Mohan Das, whose father worked in the Provost’s office, and whose entire family was killed, tells Bose that 29 staff members were ordered to pile up corpses and were later killed. Rabindra Mohan Das and another boy were spared since they were considered too young. Brig (Lt.Col) Taj who commanded the 32 Punjab regiment told Bose that by his estimates, only 44 people were killed in the two main halls targetted. However, records of radio communication between officers who took part in the attack indicate that no prisoners were taken and that around 300 people were killed. The memorial at Dhaka University for the University’s faculty, students and staff who lost their lives during 1971 has only 149 names and so the number of faculty, students and staff who died that night has to be even less. Bose wonders what the real number is? Did the army men exaggerate casualties or were there fighters in the campus who were not students? Finally, Bose pertinently asks why the alleged mass grave outside Jagannath Hall wasn’t exhumed after the liberation?

The conclusions which Bose comes to are rather startling. According to Bose, the movement for Bangladesh’s independence was hardly peaceful or Gandhian, as claimed by many. Bengalis who were agitating for more rights and for freedom were usually armed with weapons ranging from rifles to sickles. In other words, they were not a peaceful bunch. From 1 March 1971 when the elected national assembly was postponed till the time the Pakistani army launched Operation Searchlight on 25 March 1997, violent Bengali mobs and rebel fighters targeted Pakistani soldiers and their families and killed many. Despite this, federal troops exercised a certain degree of restraint. There were a number of massacres of Biharis which could be called genocide, especially because those killings did not discriminate between men women and children. On the contrary, when federal Pakistani troops massacred Bengalis, they usually let women and children go. Local Bengali Muslims were responsible for many of the Hindus who were killed or chased away from their homes. Greed for wealth and property was the prime motive for such actions. Many Bengali intellectuals killed just before the surrender by General Niazi died at the hands of collaborating Bengali outfits such as Al-Badr and Al-Shams (both commonly called Razakars) and not Pakistani troops.

Did India actually take 93,000 PoWs? The total number of Pakistani soldiers in East Pakistan was only 34,000, plus another 11,000 civilian police and other armed personnel. India is right in saying it had 93,000 Pakistanis in its custody, but this figure Bose tells us, included civilian officials, civilian staff, woman and children. Pakistan’s President and Chief Martial Law Administrator Gen. Yahya Khan is given a clean chit by Bose who finds him ‘sensitive to Bengali grievances’. Bose reminds her readers that Gen. Yahya Khan actually ensured that the elections held were free and fair, thereby enabling the Awami League to win a majority.

Finally and most importantly Bose concludes that the total death toll from Bangladesh’s independence movement was neither 3 million Bengalis as claimed by Mujibur Rahman and as accepted by almost everyone outside Pakistan, nor was it as 26,000 as estimated by the Hamoodur Rehman Commission, but between fifty to one hundred thousand and in this figure, Bose includes Bengalis, Biharis, Pakistani and Indians. If the Pakistanis had actually killed 3 million Bengalis or any other number close to it, one can be sure that Bangladeshis and Pakistanis would not be on good terms now. So many Bengalis would not have collaborated with the Pakistanis to the extent they did. We are given the example of two brothers, both of whom were in the Pakistani army. One brother, Maj. Gen. Imamuz Zaman of the Bangladesh army, defected to the rebels and the other, Brigadier Abul Lais Ahmaduz Zaman continued to be loyal to Pakistan. Both officers continue to serve their respective countries.

One can dispute Bose’s numbers on the basis that she has placed a great deal of reliance on her interviews with Pakistani army officers. Also, some of Bose’s suggestions and inferences can be challenged. For example, while investigating a massacre at Thanapara village, on the banks of the Padma, where a number of villagers had gathered, Bose tells us that before the shooting, the Pakistanis had accused the villagers of being Indians who had crossed over and explains that Thanapara is very close to the Indian border and at the time of the massacre, the water level was very low, making it possible to easily cross-over. However, we are also told that the men were segregated from women and children and only the former were shot. Surely, Indians wouldn’t have crossed over with their families, including children! However, Bose seems to be convinced that the soldiers thought the villagers were Indians who had crossed over.

Bose takes great pain to show that the killings by the West Pakistani soldiers do not amount to genocide as defined by the United Nations' Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide because they were not carried out with the aim of wiping out the Bengali race. Bose justifies this by explaining that on numerous occasions, men were segregated from women and children before being shot. In some cases, such as when a number of Hindu refugees fleeing to India were killed at a place called Chuknagar, the reason for killing was because the killers thought the Hindus would receive training in India and return to fight them.

With a few weeks after Operation Searchlight was launched on 25 March 1971, the Mukti Bahini were almost entirely crushed, though they continued to launch sporadic, but ineffective attacks which only succeeded in attracting reprisals. Indian forces therefore carried out frequent infiltrations into Bangladesh many months before the formal commencement of war in December 1971, using artillery, tanks and occasional air strikes to support the Mukti Bahini.

Why did the Bengalis start a movement for independence from their co-religionists just over two decades after fighting to break up India on the basis of religion? India was partitioned because elites among Indian Muslims felt that they would be marginalised in an independent India. In all probability Bengali elites started feeling marginalised by the Punjabi elite in the West and decided to have a country of their own. The Muslim Punjabi’s inability to understand the Bengali’s love for his language and culture doubtless played a role. Bengali hatred towards their countrymen from the west was focussed on the Punjabis, to the exclusion of other ethnic groups. Derogatory terms were used to describe Punjabis – such as Shala Punjabi (Punjabi bastards) or Punjabi Kukur (Punjabi dog) or Borbor (barbarian) or doshu (bandit) or noropisach (human demon) or noroposhu (human animal). Bose tells us that in comparison, West Pakistanis referred to the rebels as miscreants or Muktis or Awami League thugs. There were many instances of Pakistani soldiers helping Bengalis, but civilian accounts describe such soldiers as ‘Beluch’ or even Sindhi, though there were very few Baluchi soldiers in that theatre of war and in any event, the average Bengali civilian wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between a Punjabi and a Baluchi.

Bose ends the book on a dramatic, but thought provoking note. ‘When the Pakistani army came for Sheikh Mujib on the night of 25-26 March 1971, he was apprehensive; the soldiers arrested and imprisoned him, accusing him of treason. When the soldiers of the (Bangladesh) army came for Sheikh Mujib on 15 August 1975 he went to meet them as they were his own people; they killed him and all his extended family present, including his wife, two daughters-in-law, and three sons, the youngest a child of ten.

Ultimately, neither the numbers nor the labels matter. What matters is the nature of the conflict, which was fundamentally a complex and violent struggle for power among several different parties with a terrible human toll. The war of 1971 left a land of violence, with a legacy of intolerance of difference and a tendency to respond to political opposition with intimidation, brutalisation and extermination.’

I found this book, the main body of which runs to just 183 pages, with appendices and an elaborate and useful index taking up another 55 pages, difficult to read (though I read it over a single weekend) since the typeface is very small and cramped, making it strenuous for my eyes. The very matter of fact and clinical manner in which Bose discussed massacres and other atrocities did not make it any easier.

Land of Two Rivers by Nitish Sengupta – Book Review

Nitish Sengupta studied history at the Presidency College, Kolakata, taught history for a brief while and then, like so many talented Indians of his generation, joined the Indian Administrative Services. After his retirement, Sengupta entered politics and joined the Trinamool Congress, ending up in the 13th Lok Sabha (1999-2004). Currently Sengupta is Chairman of the Board for Reconstruction for Central Public Sector Enterprises in New Delhi. Despite all this, Sengupta never lost his love for history, as evidenced in his most recent book, Land of Two Rivers, a project which took him seventeen years to complete.

A labour of love, Sengupta wrote Land of Two Rivers in the hope that it will encourage ‘those who speak Bengali, about 250 million in number, take an active interest in their common political history, their shared composite culture and above all, the common language they take pride in.’ Note the words ‘common’ and ‘composite’, the former used more than once in the sentence I have just quoted. These words and their synonyms are used repeatedly by Sengupta as he describes the ethnic origins of the Bengalee race and takes his readers from the time human habitation came to the land where the Ganga and the Brahmaputra flow, till the creation of Bangladesh. How did the various ethnic groups in the land of the Ganga and the Brahmaputra fuse together to become Bengalees? How was the Bengali language, the sixth largest in the world in terms of number of people speaking it, formed in the tenth century? Why did the Suhrawardy-Sarat Bose attempt to have an ‘independent, sovereign, undivided Bengal in a divided India’, fail? One detects a tinge of regret as Sengupta describes the second partition of Bengal and chest thumping pride as Sengupta talks of how Bengalis in East Pakistan fought for their language. And won.

Let me repeat this. Sengupta took seventeen years to write this book and every paragraph in Land of Two Rivers reflects the effort that has been put in. There are no dramatisations, other than that which occur on their own, and Sengupta’s descriptions are very much matter of fact, be it his description of how the Chinese Buddhist traveller, Fa-Hien’s writings mention a prosperous Bengal or the description of the events of Direct Action Day on 16 August 1946 and the Calcutta Killings. Sengupta evidently subscribes to the school of historial thought propagated by RC Majumdar and later Romila Thapar. The Aryan migration theory is accepted and is used to partly explain migrations into the areas which is now form West Bengal and Bangladesh as well as caste structures and ethnic mixing amongst Bengali speakers.

Sengupta’s inflection-less writing comes at a price though. There were times when, while going through a description of, say, the Kaibarta rebellion in the 11th century, I had to stop in mid-sentence and figure out who ‘Bhim’ was. Since Land of Two Rivers is a continuous flow of facts and characters at an even pace without flourishes or melodrama, many names and facts merely flowed through my head without lodging. I had to scan through two of the preceding paragraphs twice before I could locate ‘Bhim’, the third of the three Kaibarta chiefs who occupied Varendra or north Bengal.

Sengupta does not hesitate to fight for his (Bengalee) heroes. When discussing Sasanka, the first ruler of the land that later came to be called Bengal, and his alleged anti-Buddhist bias, Sengupta pleads that ‘in fairness to Sasanka, it needs to be emphasized that his so-called anti-Buddhist stance was clearly more political than religious. He had to fight against two Buddhist kings and therefore, some Buddhists in his own dominion had to bear the brunt of his hostility. But he should not be made to suffer in the eyes of posterity for not having had emotionally motivated chroniclers like Banabhatta and Hiuen-Tsang to write in his favour.’

Sengupta carries out a similar exercise in the case of Siraj-ud-Daula and the Battle of Plassey, which, Sengupta tells us, was not exactly a whitewash as many historians have made it out to be. Sengupta’s description of the young Siraj-ud-Daula who was so talented and had so many short-comings is one of the best bits of this book. Did the Black Hole of Calcutta actually exist? Do please read this book to find out what Sengupta has to say about it. Equally well written is the chapter on Subhas Chandra Bose. Aptly titled the 'Rise and Fall of Netaji Bose', this brief and succinct chapter told me more about Netaji than any other book I have read. However, Sengupta does not ask or answer one crucial question: Was Subhas Chandra Bose right in having started the INA rebellion? With the benefit of hindsight, it seems obvious that the Japanese and Germans were bound to lose the war, but in the dark days of the German Blitzkrieg, Pearl Harbour and the British retreat from Singapore, who knew which power would prevail? Subhas Bose wanted independence for India at any cost and was willing to ally himself with the devil, for all he cared, as long as he achieved his goal.

One important Bengalee politician whose character I felt could have been analysed in greater detail, is Suhrawardy. A man who played almost as important a role as Jinnah in the creation of Pakistan and the popularisation of the Muslim League among ordinary Muslims, Suhrawardy was almost entirely responsible for the Calcutta killings during Direct Action Day. However, Suhrawardy also took the lead in fighting for Bengalee rights after Partition and joined the Awami Muslim League, later renamed as the Awami League. Sengupta does talk of Suhrawardy in detail, but analysis of his character on the lines of Subhash Chandra Bose or Siraj-ud-Daula is missing.

Unfortunately and sadly, Sengupta’s tome slows down after Bangladeshi independence, through there are brief mentions of developments till the West Bengal elections of 2006 when the CPI(M) was returned to power, despite inroads made by the Trinamool Congress. I do wish Sengupta had discussed and analysed the agitation for Gorkhaland by Nepali speakers in Darjeeling and Doars in the north of West Bengal. The absence of discussion on this topic is all the more glaring because towards the end of the book, Sengupta devotes a page to ‘Bengalees in India outside West Bengal’ and dwells upon the plight of Bengalees in the Barak valley of Assam. In a country where all states have been divided on a linguistic basis and where every linguistic group has a state of its own, should the Bengalees who care so much for their language and who suffered so much at the hands of those who sought to impose another language on them, prevent Nepali speaking Gorkhas from having a state of their own?

I was also hoping that Sengupta would make an attempt to analyse why Indo-Bangladeshi relations are not so warm or friendly as they ought to be, considering India's assistance in the creation of Bangladesh, a topic on which, I am sure Sengupta could have contributed a lot. After the creation of Bangladesh, a large number of Urdu speakers in Bangladesh, many of whom had colluded with the Pakistani army, were disenfranchised. I wish Sengupta had expressed his views on this issue.

Nevertheless, despite the few ‘missing’ issues and events, for all history buffs, friends of Bengal, lovers of Bengali and Bengalees, Land of Two Rivers will undoubtedly make a riveting read.

Note: Sengupta spells the language as ‘Bengali’ and the people of Bengal as ‘Bengalee’.

Book review: Tahmima Anam's A Golden Age

A Golden Age is a bitter-sweet story of love, loss, anger, hatred and evil set in the back drop of the Bangladesh War of Independence. For a debut novel, author Anam has done a splendid job of portraying for her readers the world inhabited by Rehana, the protagonist and her two children. Rehana’s world is an upper class world, but it also a world in which civil war has broken out. Anam does a very good job of explaining the events which led to the Bangaldesh war. At times, the description sounds a bit simplistic for someone from the same neighbourhood, but I’m sure it works very well for people who are not.

Rehana Haque neé Ali, an impoverished but aristocratic Calcutta girl marries Iqbal, a successful businessman living in Dakha. Iqbal’s brother and sister-in-law live in West Pakistan as do Rehana’s married sisters. Rehana and her in-laws are Urdu speakers, but Rehana transforms herself into a Bengali very soon after she hits Dakha. Rehana and Iqbal have a son and a daughter. After Iqbal dies of a heart attack, Rehana continues to live in Dakha with her children. Her evil brother-in-law manages to get custody of her children. Rehana is unable to prevent them from being taken away from her since she doesn’t have enough money to bribe the judge. However, Rehana doesn’t give up. She makes money (in an illegitimate way, which I’d rather not explain and give the story away) and builds a house right next to the house bequeathed to her by Iqbal. This new house which Rehana christens ‘Shona’, plays a big role in the story. Rehana rents out Shona and uses the rent money to obtain a court order (by bribing a judge) and brings back her children from West Pakistan.

The details mentioned in the paragraph above do not take much space in the novel which alternates between poetic eulogies and simplistic descriptions and dialogues that explain the political upheaval and civil turmoil in Bangaldesh, neé East Pakistan. And that is one of the biggest drawbacks of this novel. For example, there is not much explanation of why Rehana and her children identify themselves as Bengalis when they are all Urdu-speakers and there is so much hatred and suspicion between the two communities. More importantly, there is no attempt to show why the Bengalis accept them as one of them. This I feel is a serious omission.

There are other loose ends which don’t match. To give another glaring example, Rehana lives in a lavish house bequeathed by her husband when she loses her children due to lack of financial resources. In a years’ time, she makes enough money to start building another house – Shona. She has to then rent out Shona and use the six month advance given by her tenants to get her children back. One is forced to ask – why not sell the first house and prevent them from being taken away in the first place. Or atleast, use the money she gets (using wrongful means) to get back her children rather than build Shona. Granted Shona is in a way central to the story, a bit like ‘Tara’ in gone with the Wind, but this could have been dealt with in a different way. Rehana could have built Shona after preventing her children from being taken away or after bringing them back.

The main characters in the story are all either good or bad, there are very few in-between people. When a widowed Rehana starts to take care of a wounded Major in her house, it is only a matter of time before something develops. And it does. However, it must be said to Anam’s credit that she does not make it an entirely mushy-slushy affair.

The lapses mentioned above should not obscure the fact that Anam’s writing is very good -most of the time. If you are the sort of person who prizes good writing with a decent dollop of drama, this story will appeal to you. Another positive aspect of the book is that when Anam describes a person who has been tortured or the suffering of other victims of the war, her touch is rather light; the reader is not dunked in the harshness and cruelty and sorrow for any unnecessary period of time.

Another reason for reading this book is that there aren’t too many good stories set during the Bangladesh war. The only other good description of the Bangladesh war I have read is in Shasti Brata’s “Astride Two Worlds:Traitor To India”, which had a chapter on the War. I don’t have the book with me now (to be honest it belongs to my father) and I read it many, many years ago, but I do remember that Brata talks about travelling to Bangladesh during the turmoil (but before India’s intervention) as a journalist (he worked for a London paper), and on his return to London, writing an article(s) detailing his experiences. His articles made it clear that India was training the Mukti Bahini which caused Indira Gandhi to brand him a traitor to India in the Indian parliament since India was at that time claiming to be an innocent victim of the war, upset only by the influx of refugees.