Nights without lights — II

By Amar Jaleel

Are there any lessons that we’ve learned from the Dhaka debacle? Perhaps not. Otherwise, ours would have been a much better society than what it is today

AFFLICTIONS and dilemmas, personal or national, multiply and get out of hand if not taken care of promptly and properly. By the time Field Marshal Ayub Khan transferred his powers to General Yahya Khan it was already too late. General Yahya Khan realized that the root cause of the rebellion in the country was One Unit, the ploy created in the name of national integration that drifted Pakistan to the brink of disintegration. The country was heading for a catastrophic result of the wrong policies of the government.

General Yahya Khan dissolved One Unit and restored the provincial status of Sindh, Punjab, the NWFP and Balochistan. He announced the holding of general elections in the country for the first time in 23 years of its coming into being. General Yahya appeared genuinely poised for handing over political power to the elected representatives of the people of Pakistan.

The promised elections were held. By virtue of having more population in East Pakistan, Shaikh Mujibur Rahman’s Awami League swept more seats in the National Assembly than Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s Pakistan Peoples Party. After the official announcement of the results Pakistan stood precariously stranded in a grave situation than ever before.

The federal government, right from the day Pakistan came into existence, was dominated by powerful elements hailing from West Pakistan. They had always remained apprehensive of the liberal, progressive and enlightened people of East Pakistan. The brainless ones who were assigned the highly sensitive responsibilities of providing intelligence in an extremely volatile situation shook Islamabad with their secret tip-off. They informed the government that if the power to run the affairs of the country was handed over to Shaikh Mujibur Rahman he would transfer the wealth of the country to Dhakka; and then from the floor of the assembly he would formally announce the formation of Bangladesh, and cessation from Pakistan.

The government’s apprehensions were strengthened when Shaikh Mujibur Rahman requisitioned holding of the National Assembly sessions at Dhakka, instead of Islamabad. General Yahya Khan vetoed his requisition. Then began the delaying tactics in the transfer of power to Shaikh Mujibur Rahman on the pretext of saving Pakistan from disintegration. Civil war broke out in East Pakistan. The rest is history. There can’t be more authentic document on the war in East Pakistan than Justice Hamoodur Rahman’s exhaustive report on the national calamity.

The events that led to the disintegration of the country happen to be harrowing. One feels haunted and threatened. Suspicion instead of sanity becomes the order of the day. Friends break up the ties of friendship in search of foes among the friends. In such circumstances nights without lights become long, dreary, and unusually dark.

Back then I was assigned to keep a check on the security of the Broadcasting House, Radio Pakistan, Karachi in addition to my programme duties. The deafening sound of fighter planes, occasional pounding of cannons and anti-aircraft guns, and the sirens added myth to the mysterious nights. The prophesy of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad waited in the wings. Pakistan was drifting towards disintegration. I was in distress. Late in the evening I received the news that someone had whisked way my friend Mizanur Rahman to an unknown destination.

Mizanur Rahman and I were classmates at the Karachi University, and did our MA in Economics in 1961. We has also played for the Karachi University’s cricket team together. He was an opening batsman and I kept the wickets. We then ventured for Pakistan Theatres and National Theatres for two years. I wrote and performed, while Mizan directed the plays. Thereafter, he joined United Bank and I became associated with Radio Pakistan. Humble and ever smiling, Mizan was a gem of a person. He had nothing to do with the war. Why was he whisked away, and for what?

I was upset and agitated. Suddenly, I heard muffled voices, emanating from a commotion in the pitch darkness in front of the broadcasting house “Pharlo, Pakarlo, (catch him, catch him).”

Before I could intervene, the armed guards dumped a person in a van and took him away.

“What did he do?” I asked an armed guard.

“He was signalling enemy planes with a torch,” the guard replied.

I retreated and sank into the steps of the broadcasting house. How on earth was it possible for a person to signal war planes that fly at 1000m/h from a spot that was surrounded by tall trees, and tall buildings? I asked one of my colleagues, “Who was he?”

“He was Anisur Rahman,” he said.

The earth shook beneath my feat. Soft spoken Anisur Rahman was assistant director in the transcription and monitoring wing of Radio Pakistan. Poet and an intellectual, Anis was my friend and colleague for years. I, security in charge of the broadcasting house, couldn’t come to the rescue of my friend. I broke down.

Years elapsed. A lot of water flowed under the bridge. One evening I was aimlessly strolling along the Jinnah Supper Market, Islamabad when I caught sight of a person who appeared familiar to me. He was walking straight in my direction. I halted so close to him that he stepped back and looked at me curiously. He took a few moments in recognizing me. We hugged and looked at each other for a very long time. Spoken words had lost their meaning. Anis had returned as Bangladesh embassy’s cultural attache.

Anis did not live long. He passed away. Mizan’s elder brother General Ziaur Rahman became president of Bangladesh for a short stint. I have lost trace of Mizanur Rahman.

(Concluded)