The hospitality of Bangladesh began in Islamabad
with a phone call from the press counsellor of the high commission, who told me
that I would be honoured with the 'Friends of Liberation War Honour' on October
1 by the president and the prime minister of Bangladesh in Dhaka. My name had,
indeed, been mentioned in this context in a newspaper several years ago and I
heard about it later from visitors from Bangladesh, but I did not think it
could be true. In my opinion, I had done nothing to merit such recognition but
now that it was confirmed, I was happy. A position taken strictly for the sake
of one’s conscience should be recognised. Well, the press counsellor Mr
Istiaque Hossain, went out of his way to make the visit convenient for me. In
Karachi, a colleague of his took care of me and on September 30, I was on my
way to Dhaka — as I said before, the hospitality began in Islamabad and
continued all the way.
In Dhaka, I came across a number of people, who
had come to be honoured in this seventh phase of this programme to recognise
heads of states, politicians, philosophers, musicians, writers, intellectuals,
eminent citizens and organisations that had been supportive of the Bangladeshi
cause in 1971. From Pakistan, I knew of Ahmed Saleem who had even suffered in
this cause and had been honoured earlier. I also knew that Faiz Ahmad Faiz had
been given the award with his daughter Saleema Hashmi having gone to receive it
on his behalf last year. Also, Hamid Mir and Asma Jahangir had been here to
receive the awards of their fathers. This time, too, there was Asfandyar Wali
Khan, head of the ANP, to receive the awards being given to Khan Abdul Ghaffar
Khan and Wali Khan. Master Khan Gul, vice-chairman of the All Pakistan Awami
League, was represented by his son, Professor Zafar Iqbal. There might be
others in the past from Pakistan but I do not know about them.
I was feeling humbled as I kept reading what
these people had done. They all appeared to be people of such character and
action that I was a bit dismayed. And then, for the first time, I read my
citation during the ceremony just before going to receive the honour from the
dignitaries. Among other things it read: "and earned the wrath of the Military
Junta". This was obviously an assumption since I had never made such a claim in
my several writings about 1971, including a small paragraph on myself, which I
had sent to the Bangladesh High Commission a few days earlier. Later that
evening, I met the gentleman who had actually written this citation and, as I
had guessed, it was an assumption but one in good faith. After all, it is
rather difficult to imagine that a second lieutenant in the armoured corps of
the Pakistan Army had condemned the military action, claimed that he was a
conscientious objector to the 1971 War no matter where it was being fought and
even expressed the opinion that Pakistan should have simply walked out of
Bengal like the British had walked out of India as the majority had voted for
their own rule. I had been appalled by the stories I had heard of atrocities
and my view was that the situation called for nothing but heeding the will of
the people without any fighting. I remember talking about this to my commanding
officer, Lt Colonel Ali Gohar, then Colonel (later Lt General) Kullue and even
arguing about this unjust war with Lt General KM Arif. So it was not that I
ever concealed my views but the point is that at the organisational level,
nobody took notice of my very eccentric views. I suppose they thought me too
naive and inexperienced to be taken seriously (‘too much of an idiot’ in subaltern
parlance). At the individual level, there were people who passed unsavoury
remarks and some individuals were less than charitable but on the whole, I was
treated with decency by the army. Indeed, my own father was far less charitable
in his views about my attitude towards Bengali liberation but he considered me
brainwashed. When I pointed out to him that I had no Bengali friends and nobody
else I knew ever expressed such views, he was nonplussed but maintained that
there was ‘some crookedness in my mind’ (dimagh mein terh hai). Having
decided that I could not be a proper soldier since I would consult my
conscience before every war, I first decided to escape to the Army Education
Corps but, having realised that there, too, one has to motivate people for war,
I finally resigned my commission. So, had there been no 1971, I would not have
changed my career. As I was fond of cantonment life and it is privileged in
Pakistan, this might be considered something of a sacrifice. But surely, it is
nothing compared with people who had gone to jail, had family members killed,
helped people as doctors in camps and evacuated Bengalis in great danger.
Before such distinguished company, I really felt very humble but also grateful
that the little I had done had been recognised as the voice of my conscience.
After leaving the army, I wrote short stories
based upon the horrors I had heard about and my sympathy, as always, was with
the oppressed people of Bangladesh. I also appealed to the Pakistani government
to apologise to the people of Bangladesh for the military action and the
atrocities committed from March till November 1971. But, of course, I added
that in my view, the Bangladeshi government, too, should offer apologies to
those Biharis and families of West Pakistanis who were killed before the
military action and once the surrender took place. But since the government at
that time was Pakistani, the first apology should come from this country. Moreover,
there is no comparison of the scale. The number of Bengalis killed, tortured,
raped and burnt was so much more than the others killed that even asking for
the second apology makes people angry in Bangladesh even now.
During the entire trip, the warmth and
hospitality of the people of Bangladesh was overwhelming. The mere fact that
they had bestowed an honour upon me for merely following my conscience went
beyond hospitality. It was generosity itself.
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