A Prelude to Independence

A historical fiction, with March 1971 used as a backdrop.

   Karimuddin was wiping the sweat off his forehead after a long, hard day of labour. He kept thinking to himself, all this for a meager pay and a less-than decent meal. Is it even worth it? But he dreams of a change, of a time when he would have no complaints, where farmers would get their overdue, and they would be treated with respect by the people of all classes. He resides in the village of Paharganj in Dohar, which is in the outskirts of Dhaka city " a city now echoing the voice of independence which is deafening throughout the country these days. News spread quickly in this part of East Pakistan, where the latest news was that Yahya Khan had adjourned the National Assembly due to “unavoidable circumstances.” Naturally this has caused a furore, with the risk of a curfew being imposed there. Rumors about separation from West Pakistan had been always there since the election last year, now it seems there is no stopping to it. Everybody wanted to hear what Bangabandhu had to say about the hardships of his people.  He thought if it would be possible for him to take a few days leave to go to Dhaka and watch history in the making.

  

   He works for Nadim Hussein, a landlord of West Pakistan descent who considers the village of Paharganj “Hell on Earth” and yearns to go to West Pakistan " to the Pure Land, where everybody would treat him with respect and grandeur. The thought of West Pakistan makes him alive, whereas the sight of Karimuddin made him tremble in disgust.

  

   “What do you want?” asked the towering landlord.

   “Maalik, I would appreciate it if I could get a few days’ leave.” replied Karimuddin submissively.

   “And why do you expect me to accept your request at face-value?”

   “Maalik, I have worked harder than anybody else in your fields, you have seen it with your own eyes. The last few days have been excruciatingly tedious.”

   “Oh, just because my people are having a bad time, given you Bengalis are rebellious in nature, you will start to take everything for granted? Get out of my sight before I whip you till you faint.”

  

   Karimuddin left without saying anything. Another day of work, another day of abuse from the boss, he wonders if anything if ever going to change at all. Well, for now he must retreat back to his house, get some food and rest, and later go to the village pharmacy for a chat with his friends.

  

   Nadim Hussein spat out his paan as soon as Karimuddin had left. Scums of the earth, he thought to himself. They are never going to make it as an independent country. They can make the entire ruckus they want, but one look of anger from the Pakistani Army will make them searching for their graves. He reached for his cane, and started walking towards his bedroom. There is nothing productive to do once you get old, he thought to himself. As he lied down on his bed, he started missing his late wife, who had left him quite some time ago, before he got all cold and obnoxious. When she was with him, he did not have any reason to divert his mind elsewhere. But now that she is not there, he had nothing to do but weigh the possibilities of East Pakistan becoming either autonomous, or fully independent. Even though he pinned his hopes on the Pakistan Army crushing the Bengalis into their misery, it was inevitable. Yahya Khan did nothing to help the cyclone-affected areas last year, rather focused on an election nobody wanted. The outcome went accordingly " the East Pakistani party of Awami League, led by the charismatic leader, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, had won 167 seats out of 300 in the National Assembly, paving way for him to become the President of the People’s Republic of Pakistan. But of course it goes without saying that Bhutto and Yahya did not picture it that way, so suspending the assembly was expected from their part. The Bengali uproar was expected as well, so what could a minute person like himself do anything about this game of politics? He kept on thinking for the next few days relentlessly.

  

   The village pharmacy was like an oasis in the desert for the inhabitants of Paharganj. It had the only transistor radio in the village. So everybody got to know what their dear leader had to say everyday for the last few years. The eventual introductions of Ognikonna (Matia Chowdhury) and the 4 Khalifas* (A.S.M. Abdur Rab, Shahjahan Siraj, Abdul Kuddus Makhon and Noor-E-Alam Siddiky,) however, were conveyed by a word-to-mouth basis. Nonetheless, today it was going to be quite a lively discussion, thanks to the Assembly suspension, Karimuddin said to himself.

  

   And he was correct in his assessment, for the discussion had already started. People were already talking about Bengali soldiers not obeying their superior officers and taking moral stances against their “fairer” counterparts, the dockyard workers in Chittagong port not willing to load or unload anything from West Pakistanis and its allies. The rumors were also persistent that the insubordination of the Bengalis would be carried out by using the Pakistani army, who were arming themselves as they were planning. Everything was being assessed.

   “Did you know,” one man said, “People say West Pakistanis living in Bangladesh are secretly asked to leave our land. Bloodshed is looming ahead.”

   “Nonsense,” retorted another, “East and West Pakistan are like 2 brothers; we are of the same religion. Why would they attack us?”

   “It’s justified,” another interjected, “That they want to rob from us and not expect any sort of protest is totally outdated now. They cannot order us around, and it is time we show them that we can take care of ourselves.”

  

   It was then that Karimuddin started to voice his opinion. “My dear friends,” he said, “The West Pakistanis have caused us enough trouble, and they think the same of us. They do not look at us as their brothers, rather their servants. My landlord is one such example. We should not think too lightly of them. We cannot just think that they will hand over the presidency of Pakistan to our dear leader easily in a silver platter. We are just farmers and commoners who do not even live in Dhaka, we do not know what is really happening around. Maybe things are different; maybe things are actually less serious than the rumours are all about. So let us wait for a few more days. I expect to go to Dhaka after a few days to listen to our Sheikh Shaheb in the Race-course ground in Paltan. Let us see what comes out of it.”

  

   This was echoed with approvals, albeit skepticism. But some other of his friends did agree to tag along Karimuddin to go listen to Sheikh Shaheb.

  

   Four more days went by, with each of the days Karimuddin dealing with refusals on his face from his landlord. His request for leave fell on deaf ears, as Nadim Hussein wanted nothing to do with it. But on the 5^th night (5^th March,) Karimuddin was summoned for by one of his landlord’s servants while he was at work. He met his landlord, who curtly began his speech:

   “You people are going to suffer a lot for your insolence towards Pakistan. If Yahya listened to me by any chance, I would’ve killed all of you till all of East Pakistan run out of graves for your rotten corpses. The green land of Bengal would’ve turned red. But sadly, I do not have any authority to do so. I know why you want your leave, you want to listen to what your leader has to say don’t you?”

   “Yes Maalik,” Karimuddin replied after an initial shock at his lord’s accurate assumption.

   “With a mere speech he cannot save you from your impending death. Hear my words, all of you will suffer when the army comes to take you to your graves! You think everyone is like you? You think everyone likes yelling “Joy Bangla” at the top of their lungs? There are people who will plot against you. They will rat you out, they will do everything in their power to retain Pakistan.”

   “Why should I believe you?” Karimuddin countered, “you have never tried to know your subjects, like myself. During the first few years you thought that all your servants are hindus. You never liked us, and yet you think about retaining us? You know which way the wind is blowing. And from the looks of it, I think I’ve had it working for you. I’m sure the others will follow my lead sooner or later.”

 

   The landlord’s face became pale, he soon restrained himself from admonishing his rebellious subject. They are now masters of their own destiny, he thought, there is no use in holding them back anymore. What happens to them now remains to be seen. Karimuddin left, a free man. Free to do anything he wishes now. Soon, his countrymen will be free from the clutches of tyrants like Yahya and Nadim Hussein. How they become free is all they have to wait for. And time is all they have got now.

 

   These events are entirely fictional, but the historical setting is not. The emotions carried out from both the sides remained the same. The barbaric Operation Searchlight took place 18 days later after the events of 7^th March. Now people may regard this story as a prelude to barbarism in the name of suppression, or as our Independence was declared on the 19^th day (the day after,) they may actually take it as a prelude to greatness, to that of freedom, of independence.

Author's Note

I'm all eyes and ears for feedbacks :)

Reviews

[Nish...]

It's a wonderful feeling to know that how much our martyrs scarified to bring the independence of our country. Beautiful.

[Shoeb Karim]

Golpota shundor.
kintu ami mone kori golpo bolay shamanno kichu poriborton dorkaar.
"where farmers would get their overdue, and they would be treated with respect by the people of all classes." "where everybody would treat him with respect and grandeur." ai kothagulo a bhabe na bole onnobhabe bolar chinta korte paren."Bengali soldiers not obeying their superior officers" ai linetaay "Bangali soldiers" bolle jara amader ghotonagulo bhalobhabe jaanena tara Bangali soldiers k freedom fighter mone kore dhore nite paare juddho apnar golper oi shomoytate e cholchilo jodio pore sheta clear korechen kintu jehetu tara jaanena tader kaache beparta oshongoto mone hobe. taai apni ekhane "Bangali soldiers in the Pakistani army'' ba edhoroner kichu ekta likhte paren. R tachara mai mone kori Pakistan r Bangladesh ba east Pakistan j aage ekdesh chilo, bangalira j oder under a kaaj korto ai bepar gulo arektu clear na korle bhindeshidera golpota puropuri onubhob korte paarbena. r ekta kotha golpotar sheshe j kichu kotha likhechen shegulo k golper ongsho hishebe na dekhiea p.s.(Post script) hiishbe dite paren ba auther's note a o dite paren. jaai hok amader Independence niea golpo dekhe khushi holam. ami golpota amar onno writers cafe bondhuder shathe share korchi.