Birangana or muktijoddha?

Photo: Drik_Majority World/ Rashid Talukder

THE very idea of equality which sparked our liberation war was violated by a failure to recognise the women participants of the war. The women war victims did not receive the due honour from their families and society. Most of the families considered the "loss of chastity" a shameful act, and treated their victimised women unfairly. The inability to marry off their daughters created extra anxiety for many parents.

The society also failed to honour the victims and labeled them "violated women" or "dishonoured women." The government's initiative intended to honour the victims with the title Birangana ended up being discriminatory. I argue that the title Birangana has played significant roles in marginalising and dehumanising the women freedom fighters.

Linguistically speaking, each sound signifies a specific concept. Although the selection of a sound is somewhat arbitrary, the concepts associated with the sound are culturally agreed upon. People living in a community have to agree on how they will create meaning of a particular word by means of culturally acceptable associations. If we analyse the associations that come to our mind as soon as we hear the words muktijoddha and birangana, we will see how the word birangana has dehumanised the women war victims.

Muktijoddha evokes an image of courage, heroism, and more specifically gallant gunfight in battlefields. Therefore, the people known as muktijodd has naturally get respect and honour from the countrymen. The word birangana, on the other hand, creates a mental image of a woman being raped by Pakistani soldiers and their collaborators. Biranganas sometimes gain sympathy and sometimes pity from the countrymen. Therefore, the title given to the women participants of the war has been discriminatory.

People often talk about the honour and rights of the biranganas. They ponder upon why the society has failed to accept them as birangana. I argue that the underlying problem of this dichotomy is for the most part with the title itself. So long as they are called birangana, they are unlikely to receive their due honour from the society. Because of society's reluctance to accept them as war veterans, biranganas oftentimes prefer to hide their faces. This is because of the incomplete history of our liberation war.

Fighting a war does not always mean picking up a rifle and shooting the enemies. Our women fought the war in many ways; some fought in battlefields, shoulder-to-shoulder with men. Some others cooked for fighters, nursed the wounded, and inspired the soldiers with the love of a mother, a sister, or a beloved. Unfortunately, many of them had to face heinous sexual abuse. All these roles of women in the war are by no means subordinate to those of men. Both women and men fought to the fullest extent, as per their capacity, to protect their motherland. Therefore, whoever fought for this cause, with or without a gun, is a freedom fighter.

We shouldn't have weighed and contrasted the sacrifice of men and women freedom fighters. It is not about determining who played more important roles in achieving freedom. What is vital is that a person tries her/his best to serve the country. The ways of serving can, and should, be manifold. Therefore, it is not reasonable to categorise the roles of male and female freedom fighters and label them with different titles.

The sacrifice of our women during the liberation war is rare in world history. How many women were raped by the Pakistani Army during nine months of war is subject to speculation. The statistics range from 200,000 to 300,000 or possibly 400,000. Among this large number of women, many became pregnant. This unwanted pregnancy put them in a very critical situation. Many of them went to India and other places for either abortion or delivery. Some others gave birth to war-babies at home. Moreover, a good number of women committed suicide to avoid social disgrace.

We do not have reliable statistics of how many women were raped, how many of them became pregnant, how many committed suicide, and how many gave birth to war-babies. A post-war report estimated that 300,000 women were pregnant, but the methodology used to reach this figure was not dependable. Referring to various newspaper reports and interviews, Banglapedia says that 23,000 abortions were performed by British, American, Australian, and Bangladeshi doctors at various clinics in Dhaka. It was also reported that between 300 and 400 children were born at 22 seva sadans (abortion/delivery clinics set up mainly by foreign doctors) in Dhaka.

Whatever the statistics may be, the sacrifice of our women for our independence is indescribable in words. However, it is our national failure that we did not honour them properly. Society ill-treats them as if it was their fault that they were sexually violated. Many of these war victims committed suicide because of the emotional agony. Those who survived came to know that they were biranganas, a title given by the state in their honour.

But, what good did this title do to them? Did they receive the same honour and respect as their male counterparts? The answer is a definite "no." Their title has repeatedly reminded them of the nightmare experiences of 1971. The word birangana, with its associations with rape, unwanted pregnancy, abortion, and giving birth to war-babies, tells people of what happened to those women war victims. In this way, a woman cannot feel proud of her title. Instead, she feels embarrassed to think and talk about her sacrifice for the homeland. It has also been reported that many biranganas were reluctant to talk about their experiences because they were mocked by the society. A feminine title has made the biranganas subordinate to their male counterparts, who are known as muktijoddhas.

To sum up, even though the title birangana was intended to pay tribute to the women war victims, it failed to serve this purpose. With its connotations of sexual abuse, the title marginalises women's sacrifices, and often dehumanises them in society. It does not seem reasonable to coin a feminine title for the women participants of the liberation war. Why weren't they simply called muktijoddha? I believe that if they were called muktijoddhas, they would have enjoyed due honour and prestige as founders of a nation. I, therefore, request the government to consider this issue and replace the title birangana. Everybody who participated in the war, with or without a gun, should be called a muktijoddha, regardless of gender.

(Translated by S. M. Anwaruddin)

Shirin Aktar is a graduate student of Sociology at Khulna University and S. M. Anwaruddin is a lecturer of English (on study leave) at Brac University Centre for Languages.

This article was previously published as OP-ED on April 1, 2010