Disregarded flag-wavers of 1971

In Pakistan, another March, the month that set the stage for December 16, 1971, passed quietly without any commemoration in its mainstream media, vibrant social circles, or among liberal and feminist groups in civil society. This silence has yet again deprived our decision-makers of insights into the issues that led to the amputation of our homeland. It also marks the beginning of an enduringly tormenting era for some 300,000 Pakistanis who stood with Pakistan. What did they get in return? Over 53 years of displacement, disownment, and disdain.

However, in Bangladesh, March 2025 was a different month when compared with March that followed the year 1971. This time three murals of 'Bangabandhu' at the 'Liberation War Memorial' in Lalmonirhat (a district situated at the northern border of Bangladesh) were demolished on March 30. The memorial featured murals of or related to the 1952 Language Movement, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman's March 7 speech, the formation of the Mujib government, the reading of the Liberation War declaration, a rising sun, the 1971 genocide, commander-in-chief of the Mukti Bahini MAG Osmani, freedom fighters celebrating after the war, people holding the Bangladesh flag, the Seven Bir Shresthos i.e. Most Valiant Hero (the highest military award in Bangladesh awarded to seven freedom fighters who died in action during the 1971), and the surrender of the Pakistani Army.

I read and read this news item and looked at the dissection of this news in Bangladeshi media. I searched and searched for stories and in-depth analysis regarding this development in our media including some WhatsApp groups. The 'Fall of Dhaka' perhaps does not qualify as the national tragedy. It is not that I expected much, but I still experienced an unfathomable mourning. Each year, I renew my hope that someone outstanding from the media, civil society, or in positions of authority will highlight the plight of our Pakistani Bihari and non-Bengali Urdu speakers who have been exploited perpetually in the ghettos of Bangladesh.

The internet and global libraries swarm with information detailing how Sheikh Mujibur Rahman informally declared Bangladesh's independence on March 7, 1971. He rallied the Bengali people with a call for civil disobedience and prepared them for a war of independence. The Bangladesh "Liberation War" commenced 18 days later when the Pakistan Army launched Operation Searchlight allegedly against Bengali civilians, intellectuals, students, politicians and armed personnel. UNESCO added Sheikh Mujib's speech to the Memory of the World Register on October 30, 2017, recognising its significance as a documentary heritage. However, what remains largely cloaked is the fate of patriots in East Pakistan and the ruthless treatment of several army families due to the rebellion of the East Pakistan Rifles. Civilian non-Bengalis, despite their native proficiency in Bengali and integration into society, were hard-heartedly targeted. They faced abduction, slaughter, looting of homes and atrocities even against women and children.

I have recounted the indescribable and unrecognised genocide of this community and eyewitness testimonies numerous times in my podcasts and columns, often citing books, like Blood and Tears. Yet, these efforts have failed to create mass sensitisation or initiate a national dialogue on these human rights violations and unresolved grievances. These people have been expunged from the narratives in the post-Hasina phase of friendship between Bangladesh and Pakistan. As diplomatic ties improved and gestures of goodwill are being exchanged, there is a conspicuous uncommunicativeness about the plight of the stranded non-Bengali Urdu speakers - the very people who paid the price for their loyalty to Pakistan. It is utterly unsettling that reconciliation efforts between the two nations and countries do not bother to admit or address this unfinished chapter of our shared history. I say this with full responsibility, despite recognising the important academic and advocacy work done by state institutions, like Army Institute of Military History in Pakistan. The problem lies not in the absence of truth, but in its rationed reach and effectiveness. Voices like mine, which strive to offer unprejudiced and authentic perspectives - including both the injustice toward Bengalis (which I have always documented) and the forgotten ordeal of the Bihari and other patriotic communities - remain disregarded. Meanwhile, plots that focus solely on anti-state and anti-army sentiment are far more widely accepted, internalised and amplified.

What troubles me far more is a multifaceted threat - the way truth is so effortlessly buried simply because it is not trending. Some well-wishers caution me against speaking out, warning of potential repercussions due to geopolitical sensitivities. They argue that I lack an understanding of the complexities of geostrategic politics. Despite the cautions, my concerns remain insistent and have always revolved around three fundamental questions:

1) Why was the repatriation of these Pakistanis not completed despite ample funds?

2) How can nationalist sentiments or political maneuvering justify abandoning one's own people?

3) Why has Pakistan failed to handle its history with honesty, especially when it comes to acknowledging the incontestable suffering inflicted on its loyal citizens in East Pakistan?

Instead of crafting a truthful and nuanced narrative, the state has allowed and tolerated misleading propaganda to flourish, further wrecking its image.

Why is this critical issue being buried under the guise of diplomatic sensitivities or other priorities, especially when it remains relevant today amidst ongoing unrest in regions like Balochistan? Media, political parties, civil society groups and academics draw parallels between the situations in Balochistan and Bengal without fully understanding the historical context. What example are we setting by allowing history to be controlled, leaving real people as collateral damage?

Reconciliation constructed on selective memory and manipulation is not only against human rights norms but will also do no good for Pakistanis. The untold story of stateless Pakistanis in Bangladesh's ghettos need to be told and deserves to be heard. Truth should never be a casualty, and citizens should never be treated as collateral damage in any democratic state. Once again, I call for an empathetic and inclusive national dialogue with all stakeholders to bring the buried and disremembered perspectives of this unfortunate period of our history into the mainstream. The state should confront this issue and take ownership, as ignoring it could undermine the stability and prosperity of present-day Pakistan.