Unsung heroes of our independence: Gazaria freedom fighters

Brave sons of the soil. Photo: photographersdirect

AS we celebrate the 38th anniversary of our victory over the repressive powers of Pakistan we need to pay homage to those countless souls who laid down their lives in giving us this day. The 1971 War of Liberation was fought on several fronts by people from all walks of life. While the main war is largely known by the battles fought by our brave freedom fighters both inside and outside our borders, much of our success came from the resistance and random acts of bravery by people in all nooks and corners of our country.
The ranks of these unknown and forgotten fighters for the liberation of our country were filled by students, farmers, shop keepers, and housewives. The following is a hardly known story of a band of young people who probably were among the first to take up arms to frustrate the Pakistan army in its murderous thrust toward the countryside.
For several days after the mayhem let loose by the Pakistan army in Dhaka and neighbouring areas, we in Munshiganj expected the Pakistan Aamy to descend on the river shores any day. Rumours were rife that the murderous platoons were seen boarding speed boats and motor launches, and were headed toward Munshiganj. People started leaving their homes and headed towards interior villages.
However, after several days of anxious wait, when the feared invasion did not happen, people started to relax and started coming back to their homes. Meanwhile, the exodus of people from Dhaka and Narayanganj to Munshiganj continued unabated, with shocking narratives from the new shelter seekers. There were harrowing stories of wanton killing, burning of houses, and mass arrests of young people.
My parents escaped from Narayanganj with my young siblings when the army goons descended on our neighbourhood and started indiscriminate firing and looting. They were lucky to escape in time, as hours after they left our home was attacked by the army, and incendiary bombs were lobbed into the house. All our belongings were set on fire.
With the army concentrating on its advance toward the hinterland, Munshiganj was spared its wrath for much of April. That is until the blowing up of Gazaria Bridge by a hastily formed guerilla force comprising a group of students and some ex-military Bengalis of the locality. This was the first major act of insurgency in Munshiganj and thrilled all of us, but also accelerated the Pakistan army action in the subdivision.
Gazaria was then the only thana in Munshiganj sub-division, which was connected by land with Dhaka. The Dhaka-Comiila-Chittagong highway ran through the thana over a bridge (about 400 feet in length) that spanned the river Meghna, which skirted the thana. This was recognised as a vital bridge, a key installation that served as a transportation link for all of the south-eastern part of the then East Pakistan.
On a very early morning in early April I (1971) I was roused from bed by a telephone call from the sub-divisional police officer. He told me in a panic stricken voice that the Gazaria Bridge had been blown up by some people, and that we needed to go and visit the area before the authorities from Dhaka called us. Under normal circumstances, an SDO and SDPO to go and visit the place of such accidents, but this was no normal time. We were not sure if the army had already gone to the place and if we would be welcome to them. A great sense of curiosity to see this daring act of suspected sabotage, however, removed our hesitation, and we proceeded immediately toward Gazaria in my motor launch.
As we approached Gazaria through river Meghna we saw ahead of us the great bridge cut in half, with the middle section missing. It was an incredible sight. The middle span had fallen right into the river, leaving a wide gap in the bridge. It was a clean operation, appearing as though a giant electric saw had run through the bridge and cut it in parts. A small crowd had gathered near the fallen bridge. It melted away as our motor launch approached. The people took us for the military as we had a few policemen on board. However, seeing us from a distance a few returned. I asked the crowd if they knew how this had happened. No one would admit any knowledge, but one young man said this was a way to stop the army from going further into the interior. He was wrong, but that was the belief at that time.
We could not say if we were thrilled or excited in awe, but both of us knew that this was the first brazen act of armed resistance in our area. It was obviously the work of some people trained in explosives. We also realised that whether we reported this to our civilian high up in Dhaka or not, an army retribution would be only days away, if not hours. We reported the incident to our authorities in Dhaka, and fearfully waited to see the machine gun wielding soldiers on our shores.
The army did not come immediately to Munshiganj, as the incident did not take place there. However, they did arrive in Gazaria in speed boats and motor launches the next day, targeting several villages along the river, especially those near the bridge. It was havoc, with the troops spraying machine guns all around and lobbing incendiary bombs to burn houses. Many lives were lost, leaving only those who were fortunate to leave their homes earlier for other villages. The army also rounded up a number of young people for no reason from the adjoining villages, and hauled them up in trucks to take them to make-shift detention centres in local schools. Some lucky ones would be released, but those not so lucky would be found later floating in the rivers with their bodies riddled by machinegun bullets.
It did not take long, however, for the army to reach the shores of Munshiganj to begin their cleansing operation. We would have to suffer the agonies of army presence for seven more months, along with the rest of the population of our country.

Ziauddin Choudhury works for the World Bank, Washington D.C. He was Sub-Divisional Officer of Munshiganj in 1971.