“We shall fight to the last to free our Motherland”
—Ziaur Rahman, March 1971
May 30 is one of the saddest days in the life of Bangladesh! On this day in 1981, President Ziaur Rahman, a rare product of the soil, was gunned down by a group of misguided officers. Few could match the patriotism, dedication and quality of leadership of this glorious son of the country. More than two million mourners gathered at his funeral and millions kept streaming at his Mazar, days and nights, for years.
Zia’s assassination was suspected to have been masterminded by India, which could not tolerate his independent stance away from New Delhi’s hegemonic interferences. Sheikh Hasina, daughter of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, and army chief General Hussain Muhammad Ershad were believed to be in the loop of the plot. After the pathetic, though much celebrated, ouster of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in 1975, Hasina went on a self-exile to India. During the next six years, the Research and Analysis Wing (RAW), top intelligence agency of the country, tutored her well on the Mantra that Zia’s elimination was essential to resurrect her fallen father. They would also cooperate for mutual benefits. Hasina was subsequently planted as the Chief Executive of Bangladesh. She continued to stay in power through New Delhi’s direct and indirect mechanizations, much to the loss of the country’s interests, as well as sovereignty.
Failure of Political Leaders
On the night of March 25, 1971, when the Pakistan military commenced its genocidal “Operation Searchlight” to annihilate the Bengalis in East Pakistan, most political leaders fled the scene. Top leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman chose to surrender to the military in exchange of safety for himself and his family.
(According to various authentic accounts, Mujib declined the repeated requests of his deputy Tajuddin Ahmad to declare independence and join the liberation war. Ironically, Mujib had no concern or consideration for the 70 million people who reposed their complete trust in him. They were left at the mercy of the military to be massacred. Yet, when he returned to an independent Bangladesh in January 1972, he quickly claimed its ownership, only to destroy everything the people had aspired to within 44 months. After his fall, his onetime Speaker of the Parliament, Malek Ukil, hailed that the country was relieved of a Zalim Feraun!).
In that leadership vacuum, Major Ziaur Rahman, Second-in-Command of 8 East Bengal Regiment in Chittagong, decided to rise to the occasion. After roaring “We Revolt,” he faced the marauding enemy forces with whatever strength of his unit he could muster. Thirty hours later, he reached the Kalurghat Radio Station and made the famous Declaration of Independence of Bangladesh on March 27. “We shall fight to the last to free our Motherland,” Zia added the resolve.
It was picked up by a nearby Japanese merchant ship, which relayed the announcement to the whole world. Other units of Bengal Regiments, the Para-military Rifles, the police and others also picked up the message and took up arms against the occupation forces. Traversing through a sea of blood for nine months, Bangladesh won victory on December 16, 1971. Ziaur Rahman remained the shining star in that glorious episode!
Below is an article, a personal account, I wrote sometime back. It was published and republished in a number media outlets, both at home and abroad. I hope the readers can have a glimpse of the quality of the man as a soldier, fighter, leader and builder of Bangladesh.
Unforgettable Zia: The Zia I Knew
Following my escape from the Pakistan Army in 1971, I was posted to the Z Force of Colonel Ziaur Rahman in the eastern theater of the Bangladesh liberation war. The nearly 20-day journey took me from Lahore to Khem Karan to Rajoke (India) to Ferozepur to New Delhi to Kolkata to Agartala and finally to Masimpur, the Headquarters of the Number 4 War Sector, in one late afternoon. Colonel C R Dutta, the Commander, received me warmly on the verandah of a tin shed building, his headquarters. A humorous person, his Sylheti accent was unmistakable. He had received information about my arrival from Agartala.
“Dutta da,” I heard a familiar voice coming across the partition of my temporary accommodation. I walked over and found a gentleman in khaki, half-lying on the bamboo platform used as a bed, talking to the Sector Commander. Semi-darkness did not reveal his face clearly.
“Slamalikum, Sir,” I wished and introduced myself. The man sat up, shook my hand and said, “So you are the captain for my artillery. Sit down.”
My brain was still struggling to recall the identity. Second Lieutenant Sajjad Ali Zahir, another escapee from West Pakistan and posted to my unit, joined me at Agartala. He followed me to the room. As I introduced Sajjad to the man, the name instantly flashed across my mind.
“Major Ziaur Rahman,” I told Sajjad. The moment I noticed his new rank, I corrected my statement, “Sorry, Colonel Ziaur Rahman.”
Major Ziaur Rahman was an instructor at the Kakul military academy when I was a cadet, and his solid, deep voice was known to me.
On his query, I gave a brief account of my defection story: crossing the Lahore-Khem Karan border in a military Jeep, surviving after falling into the Kasur River and reporting to various Indian and Mujibnagar authorities. He seemed to know my escape route and the area pretty well. Somewhat surprised, I asked how he knew the names of those villages, tracks, BRB canal and barriers.
“I fought the Indians there in 1965 with First East Bengal,” he said. Ziaur Rahman earned the second highest Hilal-e-Jurat for his gallantry in that war.
We ate dinner together. Before leaving for his Headquarters at Kailashahar, Colonel Zia told me to take stock of my unit at Kukital and report to him in a day or two to find out what I needed to make the artillery unit battle worthy within the shortest possible time.
Captain Oli Ahmed and my Sialkot friend Captain Halim, Brigade Major and Quartermaster respectively at the Z Force, were accommodating in meeting my requirements.
Whole Bangladesh is Your Firing Range
Two weeks later, Colonel Mohammad Ataul Ghani Osmani, Commander-in-Chief of the Mukti Bahini, was visiting the area. Zia brought him to my camp to show the readiness of my guns for operation. I arranged a mock gun-firing drill for the visitors that included an Indian Brigadier and other officers.
“Sir, the Chief was very impressed with the exercise,” said Lieutenant Sheikh Kamal, ADC to the C-in-C, to me afterward. “I heard him saying to Colonel Zia.”
Colonel Osmani himself appreciated the preparedness and congratulated those who participated in the drill.
During the impromptu luncheon at my camp, I asked him if I could conduct a practice fire, for which I needed a firing range, before going to the real one.
“The whole of Bangladesh is your firing range, my boy,” said Osmani. “Go ahead.” I received a blank check.
After a day or two, while returning from forward positions, I noticed a large convoy of trucks full of troops passing by. Initially, I thought they were Indians. On a closer look, I recognized they were our Mukti Bahini soldiers. In those days, most of us had the same OG (olive-green) uniform worn by the Indian army in that area. After a while, I noticed Colonel Zia coming in a Jeep. He stopped when he saw me. After military greetings, I asked him what was all that.
“That’s your Bengal Regiment soldiers.” His hint at making me feel proud was unmistakable.
“Where are they going?”
He got out of his Jeep and asked me to follow him. We went up on a high ground from where we could oversee the convoy passing through the hilly tracks. We sat down on a grassy patch.
“To Zakiganj and Atgram,” he said, briefly explaining the plan for a 3-prong attack on Pakistanis in northeastern Sylhet with his 1, 3 and 8 Bengal regiments. I sprang on my feet.
“Am I not part of your Force?” He must have noticed the anger in my tone.
“Of course, you are.”
“Then, why am I left out of this?”
“Are you ready?”
“Anytime.” My confidence was evident. I noticed a flash of happiness and pride in Zia’s face.
“Can you move tonight?”
“Sure.”
“Fine. You are going in direct support of 8 Bengal. Possibly for 1 and 3 Bengal too. On my way, I will talk to Brigadier Sandhu (Zia’s Indian support counterpart) to issue the ammunition and gun towers (trucks) to you urgently. See me at headquarters later tonight. I will give you further details.”
My excitement knew no bounds and was about to run away to arrange the details for the D-day I was waiting for.
Fight the War Our Way
“Wait. Wait. Sit down,” Colonel Zia stopped me. “There is time. Give me company while I see my troops clear away.”
As the convoy moved on, our discussion shifted in different directions. I told him how Pakistanis in the west had been conducting misleading propaganda about our war, our heroes, and our future. In Pakistan, Osmani, Zia, and many others were already “dead,” “killed each other.” I discovered a different Zia from the reclusive and serious one that most people knew. It looked like he wanted to open his mind.
We talked about the war, the strategy, its conduct, and the policy makers at Mujibnagar. He expressed his frustration at the style and pace of the war. He did not like too much dependence on India.
“It is our war. We should fight it our way. Not on someone else’s convenience.”
Then referring to Osmani, he said, “That man with a white mustache has no idea about the situation on the war fronts and the enemy. Just passing orders off the map at someone else’s dictation. I don’t like it.”
I was a bit embarrassed that he would open up like that before a junior officer. But I also knew that Zia, for whatever reasons, had developed a liking for me and could confide in me.
After a while, when I asked about his family, quietness descended. He looked around vaguely and then said in a low tone, “I don’t know.” I did not miss the soak in his voice.
Our association continued until I met the president last, in September 1980.
The sun was setting when we got up. I told Zia that I could be late to reach his headquarters tonight because I had several errands to complete before the move.
“Don’t worry. I don’t go to bed early.” I later learned that Zia usually worked until the early hours of the morning in those days. He slept very little.
I came to Zia’s headquarters around 11 pm and found him working on a makeshift desk in his tent, which was dimly lit by a lantern. Our meeting was brief. He showed me the deployment of 8 Bengal Regiment on the map. I was to place the guns suitably to support its operations and advances. If within range, I might also be required to support 1 and 3 Bengal to the north. He marked their positions too. He then called his BM and DQ and asked them to provide me whatever materials I needed. I gave them the list.
My unit’s first operation at Baralekha, Sylhet, was an unprecedented success. Next morning, an overjoyed Colonel Zia, accompanied by Captain Oli, visited my gun position, which was on a hill ridge in Lathitilla forest.
“You made history in our liberation war,” said a beaming Commander with a warm handshake. He went around, shook hands and congratulated every man I had. “Joy Bangla” slogan kept ringing everywhere.
Before Zia left, I informed him that I would be going to the forward locations of 8 Bengal as FOO (Forward Observation Officer, who calls for artillery fire) soon.
“Make sure the guns are safe,” he advised. “These are very precious to us.”
“They are in good hands, Sir,” I assured him.
(After the war, Colonel Ziaur Rahman recommended me for a “Gallantry Award of the Highest Order.” What happened to the recommendation is another story!)
Liberation Spirit
Sometime in 1973, then Army Deputy Chief Major General Ziaur Rahman was on a visit to Chittagong, where I was a staff officer to Colonel Mir Shawkat Ali, the local Commander. At a luncheon for Zia at the Commander’s Flag Staff House, Brigadier Khalilur Rahman, who had just been repatriated from Pakistan, was also present. Zia and Khalil were discussing our liberation war. At one stage, Zia called me to tell the brigadier how I raised my artillery unit and how long it took me to train and make it ready for the war.
“The whole thing took me less than three weeks, Sir,” I said.
A skeptical brigadier asked, “If you are given the men and material, would you be able to accomplish the same now?”
“Definitely, Sir,” I said confidently. “Please bear in mind,” I added, “it was wartime, and that too a liberation war. Our only mission was to fight and win. We used every minute of our time, day and night, to get ready. I had some excellent artillerymen from the Pakistan army. They formed the core, while the rest were ordinary soldiers, students, and others. You had to see their spirit to believe it, Sir. The beauty was, the unit that went to operation on a Ramadan afternoon, without prior practice firing had its very first shell falling right on the target, a Pakistani concentration in Baralekha, readying for an attack on 8 Bengal positions. That unexpected (Pakistanis never knew before that Mukti Bahini had artillery power) and devastating artillery shelling forced the disarrayed enemy to start a process of retreat, leading to a complete defeat in that area.”
I could see a proud General Zia, enjoying our conversation, standing nearby. He perhaps desired to highlight my contributions in our liberation war to the one who had missed that chance.
The Revolt in Chittagong
Once at Kailashahar, Captain Oli told me the story of how 8 Bengal under Ziaur Rahman revolted in Chittagong on the night of March 25, 1971. The facts were later corroborated by my batchmate Major Shamsher M Chowdhury, Brigadier Chowdhury Khaluquzzaman and Captain Mahfuzur Rahman. They were all serving in 8 Bengal at that time.
Lieutenant Colonel M R Chowdhury of East Bengal Recruits’ Center (EBRC), Major Ziaur Rahman, Second-in-Command of 8 Bengal, Captain Rafiqul Islam of East Pakistan Rifles and a few other officers had several secret coordinating meetings in Chittagong to cope with the situation if Pakistanis attacked the Bengalis. They sent messages to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to inform him that Pakistanis were preparing to disarm and attack the Bengalis, and sought his advice. They did not get any. (Please see “Lokkho Praner Binimoye” by Major Rafiqul Islam, “Bangladesh: Bhitore-Baire by Air Vice Marhal AK Khandakar”).
Eighth Bengal was under order of transfer to Multan, and an advance party had already moved to the new location. The present strength of the unit was about 300. Lieutenant Colonel Rashid Janjua, a Punjabi, was the Commanding Officer with Major Ziaur Rahman as the Second-in-Command. Major Mir Shawkat Ali had just joined the unit after completing his Staff Course in Quetta and was temporarily appointed as the Adjutant of the unit. Captain Oli Ahmed was the Quartermaster, and Captain Khaliquzzaman was the MTO (Mechanical Transport Officer). Lieutenants Mahfuzur Rahman and Shamsher Chowdhury were company officers.
The Pakistani ship MV Swat, with a massive consignment of Chinese arms and ammunition, was docked at Chittagong port for some time. The stevedores refused to unload it, and the local people erected many barricades from port to Bayezid Bostami, intending to prevent the arms from reaching the cantonment. Captain Enam Chowdhury of EBRC was responsible for unloading the consignment. He reported his helplessness to the new EBRC commandant Brigadier Ansari. Former Bengali commandant Brigadier A R Majumdar was flown off to Dhaka in the name of consultation a few days earlier. He never returned.
Ansari asked Janjua for help in the unloading and sent a navy truck with a Naval officer and a few navy personnel to 8 Bengal in the afternoon of March 25, 1971. Janjua ordered Khaliquzzaman to take a company to the port, but Khaliquzzaman said that he could accommodate only a platoon in the truck. Janjua asked him to take whatever he could, and the rest would follow. By evening, about 30 soldiers were ready, but they had no weapons.
The Bengalis in the military and police by then had been disarmed, and the Kotes (armory) were sealed under instructions from higher authorities.
Khaliquzzaman argued with Janjua that under the explosive political situation, it would be dangerous to move into the city and port areas without weapons. Janjua had to give in, and the Kote was opened. Khaliquzzaman told me that the ploy was to open the Kote and get the weapons for his troops, as well as for rest of the unit..
Meanwhile, Janjua devised a different plan. Around 8 pm, he called his Second in Command and said, “Zia, I think you should go to the port with the troops.”
Zia thought for a while and then tried to avoid the duty, saying he had important tasks to do in the unit. As the Commanding Officer insisted, he grudgingly agreed to go to the port. Janjua assigned Punjabi officer Lieutenant Azam to accompany Zia and ensured he sat with Zia in front.
After Zia left for the port, Khaliquzzaman and Oli discussed the matter and suspected a conspiracy behind the move. Zia was too senior an officer to be detailed on fatigue duty. Moreover, why was a Punjabi officer asked to escort Zia? Disarming the Bengalis, sealing of Kotes, transfer of 8 Bengal to Multan at a time when plane and shiploads of Punjabi troops were landing in East Pakistan on the one hand, and no progress in political talks between the central and Awami League leaders on the other, pointed towards an imminent military showdown. Plenty of rumors were already in the air.
Shamsher and Mahfuz were on patrol duty near Bayezid Bostami and K Rahman industrial area, south of Chittagong Cantonment. Around 10 pm, they brought the news that 20 Baluch and 31 Punjab regiments had attacked the unarmed Bengalis in the EBRC, and were planning to advance towards 8 Bengal in Sholashahar. Pakistan military commenced the Operation Searchlight, designed to silence the Bengalis.
The two captains had a premonition that Zia was not to return to the unit and that they needed to act fast. Otherwise, Zia could be lost forever. While Oli was quietly getting the unit ready for any consequences, Khaliquzzaman got a pick-up truck and rushed to the port to intercept Zia. Luckily, Zia’s team could not go much further, as it had to clear barricade after barricade on the way. They met at Dewanhat level crossing area. A tense Zia was standing by the side of the navy truck. Lieutenant Azam and the Navy officer were supervising the troops in clearing the barricade, at a distance ahead.
Khaliquzzaman quietly approached Zia, briefed him on the latest situation, and said that the unit was ready for his instruction. Zia thought for a while and then roared between his teeth, “In that case, we revolt.” Immediately afterward, he and Khaliquzzaman casually walked to Azam and said that Khaliquzzaman brought a message from the CO that they did not need to go to the port and should return to the unit immediately. The two officers on duty did not suspect anything wrong and followed Zia’s instructions. They returned to the unit. Navy people went to Patenga.
Upon arrival at the unit, Zia quickly took a rifle from one of the soldiers and arrested Azam. Other Pakistani officers were also arrested immediately and sent to the Quarter Guard (unit prison) under commando Havildar Shafi. Zia was so angry with Janjua that he went to arrest him personally. As Janjua came out in a sleeping suit, Zia grabbed his shirt collar and said, “Bastard, you sent me to the port to be killed!” When 20 Baluch attacked 8 Bengal, an angry lieutenant killed the Punjabi officers.
As Major Shawkat was new in the unit, other officers could not take him into confidence at first. Some young officers were not sure if Shawkat, with his fair complexion and stylish mustache, was a Bengali at all. He was at his quarters and knew nothing about all that was going on in the unit at that moment. Zia went to Shawkat, who was reading a book, and asked if he would join the revolt. Shawkat thought for a while and then decided to join the group.
8 Bengal troops faced the attackers but they were heavily outnumbered. Zia decided to fall back to Kalurghat and reorganize. They fought pitched battles and suffered heavy casualties in the process. Captain Harun Ahmed Chowdhury, an officer of Rifles, came from Cox’s Bazar and joined Zia, Shamsher and others were seriously wounded. They were captured by the Pakistanis and remained confined in the hospital.
On March 27, 1971, Zia made his landmark declaration of independence at the Kalurghat Radio Station. The first announcement went in Zia’s name, as the temporary head of Bangladesh. Upon repeated pleas from local Awami leaders, as well as on the thought of giving the declaration a wider acceptability, it was changed to “on behalf of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.”
Audacity to Distort Zia’s Role
Later, Sheikh Hasina and other Awami leaders could not digest Zia’s commanding role and popularity that dwarfed the Mujib’s lifelong political career. They kept conducting a smearing campaign disputing Zia’s participation in the war of liberation. Many of them even had the audacity to claim that Zia was not a freedom fighter. One top Awami leader claimed that Zia was a Pakistani spy during the war. Someone even produced a fake letter of a “Pakistani colonel” to prove his point. I can only say that these people need to get their brains checked.
Special Mission
In September 1980, I was sent to Dhaka on a special mission concerning military cooperation in one of the leading Middle Eastern countries. My meetings with Foreign Minister Prof Shamsul Huq and Foreign Secretary SAMS Kibria were not favorable. Army chief General H M Ershad and Chief of the General Staff Major General Abdul Manaf were hesitant. They thought it was too big a role for Bangladesh. I wanted to talk to the president.
While I was waiting in the office of the Military Secretary to the President Colonel SR Chowdhury in Bangabhaban, President Zia suddenly burst in and asked me, without any prelude, “What kind of proposal is it? How can we agree to this? We have no capability to undertake such a task. Besides, we can’t afford to enter into a kind of rivalry with a superpower.”
I understood that the president came straight from the meeting deliberating on the issue. While coming to the Bangabhaban, I saw Ershad in the lobby.
“Sir, give me a few minutes,” I requested the president. “I will explain the stakes involved, how it can be possible, and what we stand to gain. There is no superpower rivalry. And I believe you were not given the true picture by our Foreign Office.” The president tried to defend the Foreign Office, though.
We sat down, and I stated what I thought right. I also said something to the president in confidence that only I could dare say. I pointed out that the peripheral and invisible resources (I even listed those resources) of our military would be more than enough to make an initial commitment. In return, we can seek financial assistance and resources to raise more units, modernize, equip, and train our forces. It would be an ongoing process.
That did the trick! I could see a glow in the face of the president.
“Please do not say NO, Sir,” I begged the president, “For the first time, a rich friend asked Bangladesh for something.”
“Wait a moment,” he told me and turned to the MSP, “Sadeq, get hold of Ershad, he is leaving. I need to talk to him again.”
The president went out of the room, and I was hoping for the best.
After half an hour, the president came back and told me, “Okay, you tell them we accept the proposal in principle. But we need to discuss further. We may have to send a team of experts to examine the details.”
“Thank you, Sir. But it needs to be conveyed by our Foreign Office,” I humbly submitted.
“I will talk to the Foreign Minister,” the president said.
A little relaxed, we now had time to exchange pleasantries. At one stage, he picked up a newspaper; (I thought it was the Holiday) from the desk of the MSP and proudly showed me a news item that said Bangladesh would export a particular type of quality rice.
“How can we do that?” It was my time to be surprised now.
“We will do it, you will see,” asserted a confident president.
“See you at the OIC Summit (January 1981 in Makkah),” said the president while giving me a warm parting handshake.
“But I will not be there, Sir. I have been transferred to Nairobi and will have to move soon. My replacement has already arrived.”
No problem. We will call you for the Summit.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
(At the Jeddah embassy, in addition to my other responsibilities, I also took care of the OIC (Organization of Islamic Countries) matters. For the Makkah Summit, the Ministry did not include me in the OIC delegation. I was in Nairobi then).
That was the last time I saw President Ziaur Rahman.
I later learned that the Foreign Office maintained its original position of denial. I felt that a substantial overseas opportunity for our defense forces was sabotaged. Reportedly, Pakistan grabbed the opportunity.
After his death, I went to Bangladesh from Nairobi. My wife and I visited a bereaved Begum Zia at her residence. Brigadier Mahtab, an old friend, was with me. Begum Zia talked very little but acknowledged receipt of my condolence letter. In the course of our discussion, she asked me, “What do you think should happen now and how things should be run?”
I could not figure out what she meant. Mahtab clarified: who did I think should take the lead and carry forward the ideals of Zia at that juncture?
I was not prepared for such a question and had no idea what Begum Zia was trying to lead me to, least of all her political ambition.
I just mumbled that if anybody could come close to the stature of Ziaur Rahman, I thought it would be General Manzur. Unfortunately, he was the man behind the assassination of the president. (At that time, we were made to believe it was Manzur who masterminded the bloody coup in Chittagong. Later, however, I had a different view of Manzur’s involvement. He was made a scapegoat). I expressed my inability to name a successor to Zia.
Years later, I said to myself in retrospect, “Stupid, the right answer should have been: You, Madam.”
In a letter to General Ershad commending his efforts in quelling the Chittagong rebellion, I said, “Given the peoples’ love and respect Shaheed President Zia received (reportedly more than two million people mourned at his funeral in Dhaka), a Zia-like death is worth a million times.” I also submitted that he had enormous responsibilities for the stability in the military, as well as the nation.
Ershad was kind to respond saying he was “working” on some ideas and would seek our support. I soon learned what he was up to. He overthrew the newly elected BNP government and took over in March 1982.
We Have Been Orphaned
I went to the Bangabhaban again, this time to see Justice Abdus Sattar, the Acting President. As I was waiting in the office of Colonel SR Chowdhury, the MSP related an experience. While on a visit to Zia’s Mazar one night, he found an elderly man crying by the graveside. Colonel Sadeq went to share his grief and console him. The old man came from Rangpur to pay his respect to the Shaheed president. “Badsha Zia had walked through my front yard,” said the old man who continued to cry. “How can I forget that? We have been orphaned.”
During a courtesy call on Major General Mohabbat Jan Chowdhury, Director General of Forces Intelligence (DGFI), I asked how come his intelligence had failed when such a tragedy had taken place in Chittagong. General Chowdhury said that they knew something was in the offing in Chittagong and warned the president accordingly, but the president did not take it seriously. They also reminded the president on more than one occasion that General Manzur was getting out of control, often refused to follow orders and instructions from army Headquarters and mostly did things his way. According to M J Chowdhury, the president never believed them. He would rather rebuke them–repatriated and non-freedom fighter officers– instead, saying that they were jealous of Manzur, who was far more superior in intellect and competence than they were.
(Ershad and M J Chowdhury were on the same page about the dissemination of information on the Zia assassination (One that Ershad put in his White Paper). Knowing nothing much at that juncture, I fell for the misinformation.)
A footnote: The President’s rehabilitation of the repatriated officers in high positions in the military enraged the young freedom fighter officers. The coup that killed the president was executed mostly by freedom fighters (who were said to be recruited by the RAW). During a discussion with General Manzur in his office in Chittagong in 1979, I discovered how bitter he was against the non-freedom fighters. I knew Zia and Manzur enjoyed great cordiality, mutual confidence, and close relations. After the November 7, 1975 Sepoy-Janata Uprising, the situation in the military was almost out of control and discipline was the worst. Zia brought Brigadier Manzur from New Delhi, where he was the Defense Adviser, and appointed him the Chief of the General Staff. It was Manzur who helped Zia in bringing order back to the military.
Incorruptible Zia
President Ziaur Rahman’s austere and honest lifestyle was legendary. Even his worst enemy cannot dispute that. Critics, however, blamed him for doing little against the corrupt practices of some of his ministers and political leaders.
In late 1972, I called on Brigadier Zia at his residence to introduce my newly married wife. Other than being overwhelmed with the extraordinary beauty of Begum Zia, my wife noticed that Zia was wearing an ordinary pair of leather sandals with repairs done at torn places.
It was common knowledge what contained in Zia’s broken suitcase at the Chittagong Circuit House following his assassination on May 30, 1981. There were a few changes of clothes, including a torn vest.
Here is a story I heard from Hussain Ahmed, a former Inspector General of Police, and Secretary to the government. A Superintendent of Police came to his residence late at night with a request to cancel his posting to a distant place. The much-annoyed IGP dismissed the request, more so because he had come to his house so late. Before leaving, the disappointed SP pointed to an accompanying gentleman, who remained silent the whole time, “Sir, do you know him?” The IGP replied in the negative. “He is Mizanur Rahman, brother of the President,” said the SP. Naturally, the IGP became a little more accommodating and asked the SP to see him in his office. He, however, did not recall if that request was ever met.
Later, the IGP causally related the story to Air Vice Marshal Islam, then DGFI. A day or two later, IGP’s red phone rang at the dead of night. Disturbed to be awakened at that odd hour, he casually picked up the phone and received a thunder from the other side. “I heard that b—— went to you for a favor?”
It was the president, and the IGP did not understand what he was referring to at first. When recollected, the IGP tried to appease the president, saying that his brother just accompanied the SP and did not utter a word. “I would like to have a full report tomorrow.” the president insisted and hung up the phone.
Reportedly, President Ziaur Rahman sent out circulars to all departments that personal requests by his family members should be directed to him immediately.
Everybody knew that Zia refused to intervene when his son Tareque was thrown out of Shaheen School.
During an official visit to Zambia, High Commissioner A N Hamidullah was briefing the president on the program, repeatedly mentioning an appointment with the president’s brother Rezaur Rahman, who was working there as an engineer. The president rebuked the High Commissioner for putting his brother’s appointment in the official program.
“I know my brother is here. I will meet him at my convenience,” the president reminded the High Commissioner.
Another story from Hussain Ahmed. The almost daily Bangabhaban evening meetings ran for long hours, and working dinners were served. The menu was more than simple: rice or roti with a bhaji, one curry, and dal. Minister Maudud Ahmed had difficulty in swallowing that any longer. One day, he asked the president if he could be excused; he had promised his children to dine together. The president smiled and let him go.
One may recall that Ziaur Rahman introduced Toyota Corolla as the official car at all levels, including for himself (Once during a home visit, I went to see the president. He had busy schedules, from one office to another. After drinking coffee, we traveled in his white Corolla and talked.). A few Mercedes Benz that Bangabhaban had were used only for foreign dignitaries during official visits.
Write, an army captain in 1971, escaped from Pakistan and joined the liberation war with Z Force of Colonel Ziaur Rahman. Authored half a dozen books and co-authored about a dozen.