After an anxious and sleepless night I woke up from my bed on the early hours of the day, the 16th of December 197I. I stood on the balcony of my ancestral home and looked through the East and West ends of the street known as Central Road, as far as the eye could see. It was now about 6 in the morning. The street was deserted and looked as though tired and weary. I tuned on the Radio Pakistan, as usual it continued with its broadcast of verses from the holy Quran since the last 48 hours or so. I came downstairs and began to stroll anxiously up and down the front porch of our house. The voice of my brother (late) Shaheed Munier Chowdhury was still ringing in my ears.

"Shamsher, after all this, if we are unable to gain our Independence it is better to die". What an irony of fate he was kidnapped from this very house around midday on the 14th of December 1971 never to be found to this day. We are here and he is gone. There were sounds of pistol shots every now and then.

Suddenly I was rudely jolted by a loud call "Shamsher Bhai, Joi Bangla", it was 9.15 in the morning. As I rushed to the balcony I kept wondering as to who could it be!! Lo and behold to my utter surprise it was Captain Nasser Bari of the Pak Army, standing in an open Jeep. As soon he saw me on the Balcony, he shouted again at the top of his voice, "Shamsher Bhai, Joi Bangla".

I met Captain Nasser Bari quite accidentally sometime during early May/June, while I was working at the then Pakistan SEATO Research Cholera Lab. Capt Bari was a member of the Pakistan Army's Corps of Signals, looking after telecommunication systems of the whole of East Pakistan. He was all along a great help and we developed a liking for each other. During our frequent conversations right through the start of the war, to my pleasant surprise, I found out that he was a strong advocate of the cause of the Bangalees of the then East Pakistan. Capt. Bari came to our house immediately after transmitting the official "message of surrender" at 0900 Hrs to the Indian Army High Command from Hotel Intercontinental then declared as "neutral zone" by ICRC.

I was yet to come near his jeep, when suddenly from nowhere a group of young boys surrounded the vehicle with all sorts of firearms shooting in the air and shouting at the top of their voice "Joi Bangla." Hardly ten minutes had passed when I was confronted with another dilemma. This time the crowd had swelled to nearly 50. In frenzy, they began to shout, "Let us kill this Pakistani bastard and also take this Dalal with us". Barefooted and dressed in a Lungi and a T-shirt I was sweating on a winter day like this. My friend by now got into the act and was in the process of, delivering a lecture on the heroic people of Bangladesh and their great exploits against the coward Pak soldiers. I clearly remember some of his deliberations, he said in broken Bangla "You are a heroic people. I salute all of you. I am here to congratulate my brother Shamsher and the most illustrious family of your nation. Surely you cannot kill an unarmed helpless man standing in front of you?"

Extremely nervous and thinking of the impending fearful consequences I too joined Captain Bari. In the midst of this turmoil I heard a voice calling my name, "Shamsher Bhai what is happening"? This was a young man of the locality who new my family well. Pushing the crowd aside he came near the Jeep and whispered into my years, "Please quickly ask your friend to move away and disappear, the crowd is growing restive and may go out of control at any time". He then in a commanding tone asked the gun toting young and angry boys to make way for the Jeep. As the vehicle and Capt Bari began to move away slowly, I followed the vehicle, with the unruly mob shouting, dancing, firing shots in the air in ecstasy and in euphoria that I have never experienced before. The vehicle was now approaching the Hatirpool. Soon Capt Bari disappeared over the bridge. I had a big sigh of relief but only to be short lived.

It was now time for the most dreaded and the longest " journey" of my life, crossing over a distance of mere 6 to 8 hundred yards, which lay between my residence and I. As I began to move, each step of the way, the gun toting band of young boys were following me, calling names and threatening to kill me, after all I was to them nothing but a Pakistani Dalal. In this way, in perpetual fear of death at any moment, I finally arrived at the doorstep of my residence, covering the distance in 30 agonizing minutes, which normally takes between 5 and 7 minutes.

Epilogue
I bear no grudge against anybody to this day. Our entire nation is plunged into extreme turmoil and conflicts of all dimensions. There are still others whose families had undergone far more tragedies leading up to our Independence and Victory Day. As I look back to that "dreadful day", I also think of those teeming millions who continue to live in anguish and extreme poverty. The fear factor from their lives may have gone, but the uncertainties of their existence continue.

It is indeed sad that at a time like this we are indulging ourselves in such political games of "identifying and issuing certificates" to what the management calls " genuine Muktijodhas." etc. As a nation we already stand bitterly divided. Let us not divide it any further into pockets of conflicts. There are various other ways we could honour our valiant fighters without such deliberate fanfare. As it is we are engaged in the bitter struggle of establishing political supremacy over one another. We are engaged in the race for money making at "any cost". We are busy more than ever before in establishing our values social, moral and ethical based on the size of cars or houses we own. The comparatively affluent section of our society along with the relatively more conscious section of the civil society must behave and act more responsibly and sensibly. Then and then only we may be able to carve out a sustainable future for our people at large.