Senseless violence
PHOTO: PALASH KHAN
Last week I was privileged to be one of the foreign friends to be awarded the Friends of Liberation War Honour for the work I did in 1971 coordinating provision of assistance to about 600,000 refugees in Indian refugee camps. We experienced a beautifully arranged 3-day programme for which the various ministries involved should be strongly applauded and the ministers and staff of these ministries should feel proud for what they organised in our honour. On the morning of March 26th, some of us went out to the National Monument at Savar where the early morning misty air made the environment very special. The atmosphere was quiet and solemn as it should be while remembering the millions of men, women and children who lost their lives or were violated and injured. The ministry of foreign affairs had appointed a documentary film company to record these very special three days and to record many individual interviews. Knowing that in January 1972 I had driven from Kolkata to Dhaka (Dacca then!), the film team suggested that they could interview me in their microbus while returning from Savar to Dhaka so that I could recall that very special journey of 1972 in the interview. With the film crew we came out of the National Monument area to head for the two microbuses that the members of the film crew were using. All I saw was chaos and I was a bit scared. I was told that two groups of young and not so young BNP men were fighting each other to obtain the right to 'Welcome' their leader, Khaleda Zia. Already they had vandalised a few vehicles all window glasses at least Tk. 60,000 to Tk.100,000 per vehicle? Later, I understand, the Awami League and Jatiya Party ranks entered the fray. The film crew were worried about their security, their equipment and 'bideshi' me. For safety, I was bundled into a nearby station wagon which turned out to belong to a retired Air Vice-Marshal. Soon after, the director of the film crew approached a senior police officer and he, with a number of police personnel, escorted us through the roads covered with broken windscreen glass and waited until we could start safely to Dhaka. This senseless violence on a very sacred day is inexcusable and reminds me of 21 years ago when, a year after the ouster of Ershad, my Toyota Sprinter car's glasses succumbed to the senseless violence of young people. Cost to the international NGO for whom I was working, Tk.30,000. At that time, I wrote, as I am writing now, letters to Editors. An English daily then, The Morning Sun, put my letter in a black-rimmed box on the front page. I wrote then, “A year ago, young people shed blood to overthrow autocratic violence. Is democratic violence this much better?” After so many years of living and working with many wonderful Bangladeshis, I regard Bangladesh as my home, but I do not know how to bring these young people to their senses. I am very, very sad.
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