Homage to the people of India

A Homage to the People of India Imran A. Chowdhury

India & Bangladesh is two states whose consanguinity are only separated by physical border demarcation in the last 72 years. But deep down the camaraderie and feeling for each in communal level is one of the best for any two neighbouring countries in the world. Which was proven during the tumultuous days of Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971.

Here I am talking about my personal experience during the 1971 war when we had no choice but to pour into the borders of Indian state of Tripura to save our lives from the brutal onslaught of the barbaric Pakistan army. My family like 10 million others had to seek refuge to India to avoid the Bengali Holocaust perpetrated by the Pakistani military junta.

We had to abandon our home on the 17th April 71 and tried to hide in the midst of villages to avoid detection as a family of freedom fighters. Our father is by then already crossed the border to start with proper liberation war by the help of the Indian public and the government. My family was seen as

the sore thumb amongst the village folks.

We were so exposed as the most conspicuous targets for the killers who were rounding up pro liberation families to annihilate the freedom movement once for all. The villagers were ever so good hosts to give shelter, yet they were very sceptical of us living in their village fearing that for us their village will be attacked, burned, people will be killed, and women and girls will be sexually violated. Which left us with no other alternative but to flee the country.

The great exodus of my life started then and the story thereafter till the 16th December is the most vivid of all stories of my life. After a long walk in the paddy fields in the middle of a storm with my 2 younger brothers aged 9 and 6, my sister 15, mother, myself a 10-year-old along with my 17-year brother as the head navigator and guide we ventured out to the unknown. No road direction only to walk east to reach the border. Amid the pricking rain drops walking in the aisles of muddy, slushy, waterlogged arable landscape with mammoth cracking sounds of a thunderstorm was the most fearful journey I have ever endured in my life. The barren

lands, no human being in the vicinity; the population were so scared that there was no movement of people nowhere. India was the only safe heaven to go to at that crucial juncture of our lives.

After14 hours of walking we poured into the borders of Tripura.

Camped outside the border pillar for the night under a tree. Next morning, we ventured into the safe heaven; a breath of fresh air inhaled after a long gruelling fearful 16 days of homelessness destitution & starvation.

A new episode of our life started as a refugee. However, it was worth the long walk; the people of India embraced us with their open arms, they immediately gave us shelter, brought hot food. Cleared one of their room for us to live, brought us change of clothes, the people of the village all rallied around us to club together to bring utensils, money to buy some useful things to start our new life. It was one of the most benevolent of acts someone has ever given to us in our life. The Hindus, the Muslims and Buddhist Tripura people all joined in unison to make us welcome to their village. Thereafter, in about 10 days’ time moved into a refugee camp. The life threw us at the deeper end of the spectrum.

But I owe a great deal of gratitude to the Government officials, political leaders, local population for their support and hospitality during the whole period of 8 months in India. Life as refugee was hard to cope with. I just came to realise that, Humanity triumphs over everything. We the refugees and the freedom fighters of Bangladesh are forever so indebted to the people and government of India.

The writer is a freelance writer & historian based in the United Kingdom.