Personal accounts of 1971

A civil war is a tragic situation, politics of identity degenerates into a destructive armed conflict.


Ajmal Kamal December 25, 2011

Mohammad Siddiq Bilwani wrote his account of the events he witnessed — participated in and survived — in the East Pakistan of 1971, first in his language of written expression: Gujarati. The other pieces that make the rest of his book — Bilwani ka andaz-e bayan — were also written as letters to editor for Gujarati dailies of Karachi and were first collected and published under the title Bilwani ji vani (or ‘The Voice of Bilwani’). Looking at someone’s linguistic, caste and community affiliations can be very interesting for our purpose as it plays an important part in determining which side that particular person will take in a situation of such a violent conflict as was prevailing in the eastern wing in 1971.

Before he lands in Dhaka in March 1971, we see him making a clear distinction between ‘them’ (Bengalis) and ‘us’. Both these words denote two uneasy and complicated categories. While he acknowledges the existence of a section of Bengali population which was — for various reasons — siding and cooperating with ‘us’, the term ‘Bengalis’ expresses a generalisation for those who were resisting the operation launched by the state and its ‘razakars’. Bilwani’s opinion of ‘Bengalis’ closely conforms to the official — and largely popular — West Pakistani view of those days; he dutifully considers them traitors of the state, misled by East Pakistani Hindus and aided by the perpetual enemy, i.e. India. He seems to give no space to the demands ‘they’ were making — and being denied — regarding the political rights they thought their election victory had given them. He believes that the central administration had the legitimate authority to decide in this matter. This view is a familiar one and needs no further elaboration. However, things get complicated when he mentions Bengalis on the other side of the civil war divide; he tries to resolve this problem by putting them in the box of ‘exceptions’ at certain places, while at other places makes a high-sounding announcement of ‘the Bengalis’ loyalty towards the idea of a united Pakistan, and thereby makes ‘the traitors’ exceptions to the rule. This indecision on the part of the author clearly apes the confusion in the official stand of the central administration.

However, the real confusion emerges when we try to understand how he defines ‘us’ at different occasions. As soon as he arrives in the eastern wing torn by a bloody civil war, he immediately identifies himself with the various non-Bengali parties to the conflict. He describes in detail how he organised the smuggling of foodstuff into the besieged railway colonies where Biharis lived; how he made efforts to save the lives of Memons living in the residential areas of jute, paper and other factories; how one of his close Memon friends — Younus Matka — actively helped the Pakistan Army by informing them of the whereabouts of ‘miscreants’ and actually taking part in the fighting; how Bilwani himself was about to be shot by an army commando firing squad because his identity was ambiguous to them, how a Bihari informant appeared at the right time to identify him and save his life, and so on. Putting these and other descriptions side by side with each other makes it very difficult to maintain a consistent definition of ‘us’ in the author’s mind.

In the background of the politics of identity and representation that has been the name of the game since the latter half of the nineteenth century, we see with growing interest that in his favourite form of political expression — letters to newspaper editors written from the late 1980s onwards — Bilwani frequently talks of “us Gujaratis” who, in his view, make a sizable political community in Sindh which is being deprived of their due representation in the corridors of power by other, dominating communities. At other times he says “us Memons” (as distinct from Agakhanis, Bohras and other Gujaratis). On at least one occasion, he specifically warns “us Bantwa-walas” that they would be left behind if they did not put their act together as an active, urban community.

A civil war is a tragic situation where the politics of identity and representation degenerates into a vicious and destructive armed conflict. Various parties of the civil war of 1971 brought their own confused, self-serving and contradictory definitions of the identity of their communities and sub-communities into the conflict.

Published in The Express Tribune, December 26th, 2011.

COMMENTS (3)

M Saleem Chaudhry | 12 years ago | Reply

All this scenario is outcome of people carrying obsessive biases,prejudices and mental fixations due to slanted perspective and lack of capacity for objective evaluation. Even the conventional education,bereft of objective thinking can not enable people to grasp ground realities correctly and make sound judgements about the people,their conduct and emerging situation. Untill and unless,political,social and religious leadership has the vision and capacity to provide people right guidance at the right time,the end result what Pakistan suffered in 1971.

gouri patwardhan | 12 years ago | Reply

very relevant,for even in relatively peaceful times you see people cross comfortable or uncomfortably between various identities they adopt while living in cosmopolitan cities.

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