Two governments, a war and memories of a teacher
Syed Badrul Ahsan is happy connecting with politics and a personality
The war for Bangladesh continues to be a major concern for people intrigued by the history of the Indian subcontinent. And then there are people, notably in Pakistan, who would rather look away from the 1971 story largely because of the deep embarrassment it still causes them. For one thing, the war signified a break-up of Pakistan through its eastern wing reasserting itself as the independent republic of Bangladesh. For another, it was a military defeat for an army that had always prided itself, however delusionally, on its bravery in the battlefield. In 1971, that bravery was sorely tested before the Mukti Bahini, the Bengali guerrilla army, and then the Indian army towards the end of the Bangladesh struggle for liberation. Much of what happened behind the scenes and across the capitals of the world as Pakistan lurched toward disaster remains unknown, despite the plethora of information that has emerged of events since the end of the war in December 1971. The infamous American tilt toward Islamabad, ostensibly in return for Pakistan's services in the opening of a road for Washington to Beijing and obviously as a way of punishing India over its sympathy and support for the Bengalis, is by now a documented fact. But it is the details of the episode that have not quite filtered down to the level of the general masses of the subcontinent. It is these details, as they have gradually come to be revealed through the release of classified documents in Washington, et al, that underline Conflict & Diplomacy. Jaswant Singh and Suraj Bhatia are seemingly a curious combination, a rather improbable duo considering the weighty subject they deal with here. And yet Singh, as a former foreign minister of India, is quite well equipped to explore the feverish diplomacy which dominated the Bangladesh issue in 1971. Bhatia's expertise in military matters qualifies him to come forth with matters related especially to happenings on the battlefield. The narrative is intense and loaded. A flurry of activities, nearly everywhere, is the focus. And here is an instance: Indian Foreign Minister Swaran Singh visited Washington in June 1971, clearly to try to convince the Nixon administration that his country as well as the hapless Bengalis of an evolving Bangladesh were up against a crisis of major proportions. Soon after Singh's visit, General Yahya Khan writes a letter to President Nixon stating Pakistan's side of the story. And it is a story that America's ambassador to Islamabad Joseph Farland not only buys but tries to sell his president in turn. Nothing matters then, not Kenneth Keating (he was US envoy in Delhi) or his worry-laden dispatches or the tales of horror coming from Consul Archer Blood in occupied Dhaka. At a White House meeting with Nixon in July, Farland is asked for his assessment of the 'terrible stories' being spread by the Indians about the refugees and the horrors perpetrated by Pakistan's army. Farland's response would make any apologist for Pakistan happy. The Indians, he tells Nixon, were 'past masters at propaganda.' Fast forward to November. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi's tense meeting with President Nixon is now part of history. Even so, the US leader solicits her opinion on how a solution to the crisis could be arrived at. Gandhi is blunt. For her, 'the crucial issue remained the future of Mujib who was a symbol of the imperative for autonomy . . .' The next day, as Nixon and Henry Kissinger meet for an assessment of the meeting with India's prime minister the previous day, the national security adviser goes crude. For him, 'the Indians are bastards anyway. . .' Nixon can hardly contain his glee. 'We really slobbered over the old Witch.' That is his way of insulting Indira Gandhi. But nothing that the White House does can slow or even prevent Pakistan's slide to defeat. On 11 December, as Indian and Mukti Bahini forces gain greater swathes of Bangladesh territory and the UN Security Council strives to put a ceasefire in place, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto is in a state of desperation in New York. He needs to see Nixon but finds the door blocked. As Kissinger tells the president, 'We haven't heard from the Russians yet but I've had a call from Bhutto who insisted on seeing you tonight anywhere.' At one point on the day Bhutto does get to speak to Kissinger on the phone. From Bhutto's side, it is all ingratiating talk: 'I want you to know that it is deeply appreciated what you are doing and we are eternally beholden.' But nothing works. A few days later, Kissinger prepares a situation report for Nixon, to apprise him of the surrender of the Pakistan army in Dhaka. He notes Bhutto's emotional outburst before the Security Council and then proceeds to inform Nixon of a long letter received from Mrs. Gandhi, who sets out her points detailing where the Americans had gone wrong in their assessment of the Bangladesh crisis. Conflict & Diplomacy is a worthwhile addition to the literature that has so far emerged on the Bangladesh issue. The documents cited here, principally Indian and American, recreate the gravity of atmosphere that underscored the conflict in 1971. The appendices as also a separate chapter on the state of Bangladesh as it happens to be in present times can only delight a student of history. Nurunnahar Fyzennessa never stopped smiling. That is how her students and her friends and her acquaintances recall her. And for that reason alone her death in 2004 came as a blow, an unexpected happenstance from which not many have quite recovered. In this warm portrait of the late educationist as seen by her family and friends, she comes across in death as she always did in life. She was vibrant, bursting with energy and full of the capacity to strive toward the fulfillment of causes she held dear. It was of course as a teacher at Dhaka University, as also elsewhere in her long academic career, that Fyzennessa made her mark on the people and the circumstances around her. But in this commemorative volume, perhaps the most poignant of tributes to her comes from her husband, Syed Moqsud Ali, himself an academic of repute and a noted writer. No love can replace that which subsists between a wife and a husband, especially when such love comes on the wings of shared intellectual pursuits. Both Ali and Fyzennessa pursued higher education abroad before coming back home to be part of the charmed circle of socially committed academics. And they raised children who remain linked to the traditions set for them by their parents. Ali's tribute comes as a conversational monologue, as it were, to his departed spouse and within the periphery of it he recapitulates his life with Fyzennessa, dwelling on the joys and sorrows they together lived through. And the times they lived through were momentous, politically. Those times were idealism symbolised, in culture-driven Bengal. Fyzennessa's daughters pay her the tributes only children reared in the cool, satisfying shade of parental brilliance can. Nazia Jabeen's poem, Aami Maa Ke Pai, is in essence the celebration of an ideal mother. And it is a mother that is hers, that could be anyone else's. And that elevation of mother's love, of love and remembrance of the maternal, is carried to newer heights by Sadya Afreen Mallick in Chokh Muchhi To Jol Mochhe Na. Mallick goes into a brief yet enlightening study of Fyzennessa's early years and recalls too that it was her mother's enthusiasm that was eventually to lead the daughter to explorations of the world of music. Mallick is today a reputed exponent of Nazrul Sangeet and a respected journalist in Bangladesh. The tributes in this simple collection come in compactness enriched by the quality of the articles. Halima Khatun, Sanjida Khatun, Ayesha Khanam, Maleka Begum, Khaleda Salahuddin, Meherunnisa Islam, Selina Chowdhury, Roushan Ara Feroz, Mohammad Farashuddin and Aziz Mallick are a few of the innumerable individuals whose lives were touched by Nurunnahar Fyzennessa. They seek to repay that debt through their fond memories of the educationist.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.
Comments