“Strangers we remain despite countless times we met
How many reunions will it take to be friends again?
When shall the eyes behold spotless greens of spring?
How many monsoons will it take to wash the blood stains away?”
Adapted from Faiz Ahmad Faiz: ‘Dacca say Wapsi per’
Oftentimes life has strange things in store for you. They come without a warning. They catch you unaware of their enormity, or their significance. Some are such that they fade away after some time, but there are others which linger with you for a lifetime, constantly reminding that a tragedy had befallen which has not ceased to hurt.
Two tragedies befell Pakistan on the same date, though 43 years apart: the fall of Dacca leading to the separation of East Pakistan that became Bangladesh and the ghastly and barbaric tragedy that befell the Army Public School (APS) in Peshawar, cutting short the lives of over 150 children and teachers. The measure of these tragedies cannot be fathomed simply by counting the number of people lost in each case, but the unbearable pain that both caused which refuses to go away. What adds to the pain is the fact that both could have been averted: one happened because of the sinister plans contrived by people who were hungry for power and the other occurred because of dereliction of duty on the part of people who were entrusted with the responsibility of ensuring security at the educational premises.
The Bangladesh crisis was the consequence of inequitable treatment meted out to the people of the eastern wing of the country. They were subjected to a host of deprivations and discriminations, ultimately reducing them to becoming ‘inferior’ citizens to those residing in the western wing. Their language was shunned, their share in the superior civil and military services was limited and they worked as labourers in the industries set up by West Pakistani entrepreneurs. They were generally treated with disdain.
Pain is there. Pain will remain with us in the future also, but pain is no panacea for the grievous losses that the state and its people have suffered. What we must do is to avert the possibility of such tragedies occurring in the future. That will happen by looking inward. That will happen by exercising logic in preference to religiosity and reason in supersession of emotionalism. These enduring constituents should charter the course for the future, not an immersion in the putrid pool of degradation
With time, they developed a dislike for their so-called ‘masters’ which gradually turned into hate. This feeling of deprivation was effectively exploited by India which set about separating the eastern wing from the rest of the country, thus setting in motion the process to Pakistan’s dismemberment. The Agartala Conspiracy Case was unearthed as early as 1958. Thereafter, instead of giving it the full attention of the state and adopting remedial measures, we remained consumed with one insignificant thing leading to another, ending with East Pakistan becoming Bangladesh on that fateful day of 16 December 1971.
The crisis was precipitated by the lust for power of, among others, that one person: Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. After the elections held on 7 December 1970, Awami League (AL) of Sheikh Mujibur Rehman secured 160 seats out of a total of 162 in the former East Pakistan while Bhutto’s People’s Party (PPP) could only get 81 seats out of a total of 138 in West Pakistan. In a house of 300, AL obtained ed a convincing majority without support from any other political party. Thus they had earned a democratic right to form the next government.
That is when the conspiracy started unfolding. Bhutto started threatening to break the legs of those who would go to attend the National Assembly session convened in Dacca. He claimed his right to rule in West Pakistan and said that he was not Mrs Bandaranaike (the Sri Lnkan ex-PM who had spent a term in the opposition before returning to office in 1970) that he would sit in the opposition. He conspired with General Yahya Khan to abort the convening of the National Assembly session and, instead, launch a military operation on March 26 which he greeted with the words that “Pakistan had been saved”.
The military operation was a horrid mismatch. Former East Pakistan had a 1,500 kilometres long border with India. There were three Pakistani divisions facing 15 Indian divisions and more than 150,000 fully trained and equipped Mukhti Bahini soldiers. There were also an estimated 50,000 Indian soldiers who had infiltrated into the war zone wearing Pakistan military fatigues. On top of that was the Bengali population which was up in arms against the West Pakistani army. In spite of that, there were heart-rending stories of unmatched bravery and valour under the most daunting of circumstances by Pakistani troops.
There was still a lingering hope of saving the situation. At the United Nations where Bhutto went to represent Pakistan as its foreign minister, he played a highly dubious role. In an act of pre-orchestrated drama gelled with sufficient histrionics, he tore to shreds the Polish resolution that called for a ceasefire to take effect and handing over power to the elected representatives of the people. Thus he nullified every remaining vestige for the survival of a united Pakistan.
He malevolently contrived an opportunity to assume the office of the President of a truncated country. The survival of a united Pakistan had absolutely no significance for him. As a matter of fact, it ran counter to his evil plans. His ascendance to the seat of power was the sole consuming passion. This is what he craved, and this is what he achieved. But it came at the heaviest possible cost and pain that any country ever had to bear to satiate the evil lust of its leaders.
What is even more dismaying is that, as a state, we seem to have learnt virtually nothing from this humiliating tragedy that befell the country 50 years ago. We remain as divided as ever, maybe even more. We remain as lustful for power as we were then, maybe even more. We are as short-sighted in planning our policies as we were then. Although the poisonous seeds of religiosity had been sown much earlier, we are far more smitten with this sickness than we were back in 1971. We remain a dangerously corrupt and polarised society where every individual, wherever he may be placed and whatever quotient of power he may be wielding, is only consumed with his personal benefit which always comes to the detriment of the state. We seem to have lost the sense to look beyond the self at the collective good of the society. That has absolutely no meaning and relevance in the way we think of things.
With time, we have developed another damning trait: we tend to forget the tragedies which befell us. Instead of learning from them and ensuring that we don’t repeat the mistakes that we made in the past, we continue to indulge the luxury disdainfully. We don’t seem to care for the intense and immense pain these tragedies may have caused to mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and other relations and friends of those who lost their lives. We don’t care. We shirk from taking any responsibility as members the society. We are just individuals who act out of personal whims with unbearable stocks of hubris driving us.
The East Pakistan tragedy was avoidable if we had sacrificed our lust for power. The APS tragedy could have been averted if those responsible for the security of the innocent children were more efficient and responsive to the challenge. There were damning reports which were consigned to history with few held accountable for their ghastly derelictions. These do not constitute ingredients of a responsible state. Lost in the labyrinth of time, we have failed on many counts. We have neither learnt anything from these tragedies, nor do we care. We are in a free fall as a society, completely denuded of both the legal and the moral attributes.
There were lessons to be learnt from the tragedy fifty years ago that dismembered Pakistan, and the tragedy seven years ago which caused indescribable suffering to countless families. The pain from both has lingered as, indeed, it shall continue to in the future also. The simple fact is that, as a nation, we have become resistant to learning. We are enamoured by the letter of things, but refuse to assimilate their substance and spirit.
Heartlessness has crept into our beings, rendering as immune to things which don’t impact us directly. The state and other people are not relevant. It is when some tragedy strikes us that we explode. We have forfeited our sense of responsibility. These are signs of a decaying polity. We need to arrest it urgently as it can cause irreparable loss to whatever remains of the state.
Pain is there. Pain will remain with us in the future also, but pain is no panacea for the grievous losses that the state and its people have suffered. What we must do is to avert the possibility of such tragedies occurring in the future. That will happen by looking inward. That will happen by exercising logic in preference to religiosity and reason in supersession of emotionalism. These enduring constituents should charter the course for the future, not an immersion in the putrid pool of degradation.
