Beyond the Lines: An Autobiography

by Kuldip Nayar

  At Dhaka, Jacob was met by representatives of the UN, Marc Henry and Kelly, who asked him to accompany them to take over the government. Fighting was still on in Dhaka between the Mukti Bahini forces and the Pakistani army. Jacob thanked them but refused their offer and went ahead in a Pakistan army staff car accompanied by a Pakistani brigadier. A few hundred yards down the road the Mukti Bahini fired at the car. Jacob was unhurt but they wanted to kill the Pakistani brigadier, till Jacob persuaded them to let them proceed.

  Jacob negotiated the surrender with Niazi at his headquarters. The draft Instrument of Surrender that he had earlier sent to Delhi had remained unconfirmed. Jacob converted the Instrument of Surrender into an unconditional laying down of arms by 93,000 troops in public.

  The surrender was announced on 15 December 1971, although Islamabad vainly tried to lay down arms in the presence of the UN. Pakistan wished to avoid the word ‘surrender’, but Jacob was able to mastermind a public surrender in the full view of the people of Dhaka. Lt Gen. J.S. Aurora flew from Calcutta to preside over the ceremony. Why was the public surrender to Lt Gen. J.S. Aurora of the Eastern Command done later when Jacob had effected it earlier? When I asked Jacob about it, he did not mince words: ‘New Delhi wanted to humiliate Islamabad by showing that Muslim country had laid down arms before a Jew.’ (Jacob is a Jew.)

  Unfortunately, some Indian soldiers and officers looted the best of houses in Dhaka. Indira Gandhi was furious but a greater cause of concern to her was a rumour that Manekshaw was planning a coup in the wake of his acclaim and popularity for having won the Bangladesh war.

  This is what Manekshaw told me: ‘She [Indira Gandhi] rang me to check the rumours. I went to her and told her that there was nothing like that. She should do her business and let me do mine.’

  India took 93,000 Pakistani soldiers as prisoners of war and occupied 479.96 sq. mtr. in Azad Kashmir, 373.93 sq. mtr. in Punjab, and 4,76.17 sq. mtr. in Kutch and Sind.

  Bhutto, after being sworn in as Pakistan’s president (20 December 1971), got in touch with Mujib, who had been earlier saved by him when Yahya Khan ordered Mujib’s killing. I spoke to both Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and Zulfikar Ali Bhutto to find out what had transpired between the two. Of course both gave different versions. I met Bhutto first, and this was the conversation which I recorded on tape. Bhutto said:

  On December 23 when we [he and Sheikh Mujib-ur-Rahman] met for the first time, Mujib took out the Quran and said: “I am a good Muslim. I still want Defence, Foreign Affairs and Currency to be central subjects between the two regions.” On 27 December, when we met for the second time, he was very vague. He said: “I cannot say the number of subjects to be given to the Centre and what kind of subjects, but I want to retain links.” I [Bhutto] was sceptical. I told Mujib: “As you know, you are saying this here and I take you at your word, but when you go there, see the atmosphere and see all the young men with rifles around you and having come back from the grave, you won’t be able to do it. But even if you maintain some fictional links, I would be satisfied.” He [the Sheikh] was positive. “No, No.” He said, “I am the leader – main leader hoon, main theek kar doonga” [I am a leader; I shall set things right]. You know, I like him. The point is that there are so many problems and I don’t think he bargained for half of those.

  Sheikh Abdullah, whom I recorded after Bhutto, had an entirely different version:

  I had come to know from my jailor, a God-fearing man, that Bangladesh had been liberated. Therefore, when I was removed from my jail, I suspected that it must be for the purpose of holding talks. I thought I would not indicate any prior knowledge of the liberation of Bangladesh. Within a couple of days of my arrival at the dak bungalow, Bhutto appeared there one afternoon. I asked him: “Bhutto, how are you here?” He said: “I am the President of Pakistan.” I began laughing and said: “You, Bhutto, Pakistan’s President! That place belongs to me; you know. I won the majority of seats in the Pakistan National Assembly.” As if he wanted to frighten me, he said that he was also the Chief Martial Law Administrator. Bhutto said: “I have come to talk to you.” To this my reply was that I would not talk unless he [Bhutto] were to say that I was free. He said: “Yes.” Then we talked. He blamed Yahya for all that had happened, although I knew that he [Bhutto] had been at the back of everything. He really wanted the eastern wing to go its own way so that he could become the president of what was left of Pakistan. Bhutto came straight to the point. He wanted me to agree that the three subjects, Foreign Affairs, Defence and Communications, would be managed jointly by Pakistan and Bangladesh. I told him it was not possible, but when he went on pressing, I said that it was difficult for me to decide anything without consulting my people. There was yet another meeting, the last one between us. That time also he pressed for the same thing and asked me to try my best. I replied: “Let me see.”

  When I told Mujib what Bhutto had said, particularly his assertion that Mujib had sworn by the Quran to allow joint control of some subjects, Mujib said: ‘Bhutto is a liar. I am grateful to him for saving my life, but that gives him no right to spread lies.’

  The versions were as different as the personalities of the two. Bhutto was flamboyant, dapper, and not straight. Mujib was retiring, simple, and forthright. The former blew hot and cold in the same breath; the latter showed trust and steadfastness.

  At least one thing emerged from the talks between the two. Mujib was released unconditionally on 8 January 1972. He was requested to go to any Arab country and then fly to Dhaka or Delhi or wherever he pleased. He however preferred to go to London before returning to Dhaka via New Delhi.

  After the meeting between Mujib and Bhutto, the follow-up dialogue was reported to have been continued between Bhutto and Kamal Hussain, foreign minister of Bangladesh. He was also released from a West Pakistani jail after Mujib was set free. Kamal was supposed to have carried a message for Mujib on links between Pakistan and Bangladesh. Islamabad spread this report, but Mujib denied its truth when I met him at Dhaka.

  ‘You know they are not real Muslims; they are only converts,’ was the remark I often heard in Pakistan after the constitution of Bangladesh. ‘You, a Punjabi, are nearer to a Pakistani than is a Bengali because, even though a Hindu, you speak the same language, eat the same food, and have the same habits,’ I was told in Lahore and Islamabad.

  Bhutto told me that Pakistan lost because it was not prepared. In his broadcast before hostilities, he said:

  “We don’t want war, and I am sure the Indians don’t want war also.” And I kept pressing that line. So when I met him [Yahya Khan] next he said: “Why are you saying this. You are queering my pitch. You are trying to give the impression that I am telling a lie.” I told him: “I am saying this because you are going to lose.” He asked, “Why should we lose?” I said: “For nine months the army has been engaged there in the East in one form or another; they are tired. You cannot maintain the lines of communication, and secondly, more important than that, for the last three years you have been active in politics. Ayub withdrew the army from politics; there was some involvement, but not much. He brought the army fully into politics. He thought that by doing that he was consolidating his own position. For three years, therefore, the army was engaged actively in politics.

  Bhutto’s purpose in releasing Mujib-ur-Rehman (‘a nightingale which I allowed to go scot-free unnecessarily’, as Bhutto put it to me) was to retrieve in the eyes of international community at least something of Pakistan’s image which had been shattered by the events in Bangladesh. Bhutto spoke Yahya Khan’s language and in his first broadcast as president (20 December 1971), he said: ‘We will continue to fight for the honour and integrity of Pakistan … East Pakistan is an inseparable part of Pakistan.’

  Also keeping up the fiction was Radio Pakistan, which continued to begin its daily transmission with the announcement of the time, not only in West Pakistan but also in ‘East Pakistan’. West Pakistani newspapers which used to have editions published from Dhaka continue
d to claim on their mastheads simultaneous publication in ‘East Pakistan’. Whenever Rawalpindi spoke of convening the Pakistan National Assembly, it took pains to mention ‘the representatives of East Pakistan’ among the members attending it. Pakistan changed its stance only after the Shimla Conference between Prime Minister Indira Gandhi and Bhutto.

  Yahya Khan’s explanation before the Hamood-ur-Rehman Inquiry Commission, appointed by Pakistan to find out the reasons for its debacle in East Pakistan, was that there was nothing wrong in his strategy. He knew that whatever forces might be deployed in East Pakistan, the area could not be defended unless the big powers intervened on Pakistan’s behalf. In West Pakistan, he said, the Indians were not able to make as big an advance as military observers all over the world had thought they were capable of. He also pointed out that actually in 1965 India had made larger advances in Azad Kashmir and West Punjab than during the Bangladesh war.

  I went to Dhaka for the first time towards the end of April 1972, never before having felt the necessity to visit the city. I saw at the airport a frustratingly long queue inching past the immigration authorities and confusing piles of baggage. It was also hot. Notwithstanding this, I heard passengers shouting, ‘Jai Bangla (Long Live Bengal)’. They looked like people returning to the Promised Land. In the city, I found signs of strain and poverty, but pride was writ large on every face; each seeming to say: ‘I have done it.’ There was a sense that Bangabandhu, the title bestowed upon Mujib, would solve all their problems.

  Narrating the sequence of events of those days, Mujib told me how he was pushed to a point where he had no alternative other than to give a call for a free country; a free Bangladesh. Tajuddin Ahmed, who had set up the émigré government of Bangladesh on 17 April 1971, and Kamal Hussain, the then foreign minister of Bangladesh, the two persons who had held negotiations with Lt-Gen. S.G.M.M. Peerzada, Yahya’s principal staff officer, for a settlement, admitted to me that West Pakistan was not sincere about parting with power. Tajuddin said:

  There was no disagreement on any point with Yahya’s negotiating team. On 24 December, two days before the Pakistan army struck, we came to an understanding about the new constitution; only one or two minor points remained. When we pressed for their finalization, Yahya’s men dilly-dallied and said that they would call us for the final meeting the next day.

  Indeed, Yahya had no plans to transfer power to East Bengal. Mujib added that Yahya was willing to go to the extent of having a commonwealth of Pakistan, with the eastern and western wings as its two units. (This was the US suggestion which it imagined would be acceptable to India.)

  Bhutto’s version was:

  The draft plan on which Yahya’s men and Mujib’s representatives worked envisaged a withdrawal of martial law and transfer of power to the provinces without affecting a similar transfer to the central government. The National Assembly was to be divided ab initio into two committees, one for West Pakistan and the other for Bangladesh. The committees were to prepare separate reports within a stipulated period and submit them to the National Assembly.

  The ‘two-committee proposal’ contained the ‘seeds of two Pakistans’. The PPP rejected the proposal and thus ended the prospect of any settlement.

  Nine months of operation by the Pakistani army, when it utilized all the organs of government to crush defiance, had almost wrecked the administrative machinery. What could his government have done when Pakistan, as Mujib told me, had tried to ‘kill every Bengali and destroy Bangladesh’?

  Destruction and disruption on a colossal scale made restoration of normal life impossible. However rational the explanation for the delays, it made little impression on the people. They wanted transformation in their lives and expected another miracle like that of the birth of Bangladesh: the eradication of poverty. To add to the disenchantment of those who had fought the liberation war, there were pronounced differences between those in Dhaka and those who had demonstrated defiance from Mujib Nagar. The more radical among them had little hope for the desired improvement and doubted the credentials of some elements in the leadership. They wondered whether they would once again have to take the gun.

  Indeed, guns were available aplenty. It was not the radicals alone who found them handy; innumerable plain brigands would not part with their arms. Mujib’s personal appeals worked only up to a point: 100,000 to 200,000 arms were not surrendered, creating a major law and order problem. Violence lay latent in the land.

  The most disconcerting development for the Bangladesh leaders was an incipient anti-India feeling. ‘I wish I could die now because relations between India and Bangladesh are so good today that I do not want to see them deteriorating,’ Tajuddin told me.

  Mujib was not concerned when I met him. He said:

  I know that some elements assisted by international interests are indulging in a whispering campaign against India. They cannot however sabotage the relationship between your great country and Bangladesh. A Bengali does not forget even those who give him only a glass of water. Here your soldiers laid down their lives for my people. How can they ever forget your sacrifice?

  In 2011, Bangladesh posthumously presented to Congress President Sonia Gandhi the highest state award ‘Bangladesh Swadhinata Sanmanona’ in the name of Indira Gandhi, who had helped them in their war of liberation.

  The administration in the country was weak. Bhutto had warned me that Mujib was a good leader but a poor administrator. Things were slow to improve. Internal political dissensions took most of Mujib’s time which should have been concentrated on the country’s economic development. In due course he abolished all political parties and introduced a one-party system in the country. Similarly, he closed all newspapers with the exception of four papers like the Soviet Union’s Pravda and Izvestia, much to the embarrassment of his colleagues and the criticism of his opponents. As he explained, the country needed strong governance, not the distraction of challenges all the time. His popularity graph began plummeting.

  One group in the army misread the situation and made much of Mujib’s unpopularity. In any event, this group, belonging to pro-Pakistan elements in the army, had not reconciled itself to the snapping of all ties with Karachi.

  On 15 August 1977 (thirty years earlier, both India and Pakistan came into being on the same date) this group staged a coup and murdered Mujib and his entire family at their residence in Dhan Mandi at Dhaka, using the six tanks which Egypt had gifted to Bangladesh. (D.P. Dhar had emphasized that when the Indian forces left they would not leave a single tank behind because he feared that it could be a temptation for the army to take over the country.) The coup had the blessings of the then military chief, General Zia-ur-Rahman. He had told the conspirators that he would not lead the coup but if they succeeded he would back them. True to his word, he assumed power and protected the perpetrators of the crime.

  I was in jail when I heard about Mujib’s assassination because India was still under Emergency rule. I subsequently heard that New Delhi had warned Mujib that its intelligence had reported that there could be a murderous attack on him. He had reacted by saying: ‘Who in Bangladesh will kill me?’

  New Delhi’s problems with Bangladesh began when Zia-ur-Rahman took over. His sympathy was with ‘the collaborators’ who had sided with Pakistan during Bangladesh war. India had planned to develop a close relationship with Dhaka so that the development of Bangladesh would be integrated with India’s economic progress. New Delhi was hasty in scratching all those blueprints because after the liberation, Dhaka most needed India. Walls of hostility grew between the two countries and anti-India elements from among the Nagas and Manipuris would shelter in Bangladesh after operations in India.

  Zia’s regime would be remembered for one proposal he made: a regional cooperation arrangement between the countries of South East Asia under the nomenclature SAARC (South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation). It comprised Bangladesh, India, Sri Lanka, Pakistan, the Maldives, Bhutan, and Nepal. Subsequently, Afghanistan and Mya
nmar too become members. The SAARC, however, never took off because of the hostility between India and Pakistan.

  Zia met the same fate as Mujib did, and in a similar way. On 30 May 1981 the ambitious Maj. Gen. Abul Monjur staged a coup and killed Zia who was then the president. All this was carried out with the reported blessing of the then Army Chief H.M. Ershad who took over the reins of government. For a dictator, I found in him human qualities. When he once took me in his plane to distribute relief among flood victims, I was impressed by his concern and the humane way in which he treated the victims.

  I first met Sheikh Hasina when her Awami League sought to capture power. I recognized in her some traits of her father, Mujibur Rahman: courage, consistency, and callousness. She had understandably trained her guns against the Bangladesh National Party (BNP) headed by Khalida Zia, wife of Zia-ur-Rahman. We met frequently and I told her during one of our meetings that she should join hands with Hasina to first get rid of Gen. Ershad and his military rule in Bangladesh and restore democracy.

  The first time I met Khalida Zia was in her house at the cantonment. She was surrounded by her advisors and their sole target was Hasina. They were careful not to say anything against India, although their pro-Pakistan slant marked them out. I would meet both Hasina and Khalida whenever I visited Dhaka.

  The two begums were forever at war. As I had told Hasina, I advised Zia that her greatest enemy was Gen. Ershad, the then army chief. I was happy when I found, after a few months, that both, Khalida and Hasina had buried the hatchet and had jointly raised the standard of defiance against the general.