November 7, 1975, a day that evokes memories of sadness, rejuvenation, and ecstasy — a turning point that changed the course of a nation.
The Eyewitness Account
November 7, 1975 — a day of reckoning that evokes in me memories of sadness, rejuvenation, and ecstasy, all at once. It was the day that changed the course of our nation’s history and, in many ways, the psyche of our people.
Barely four years had passed since independence, and yet the euphoria of 1971 had given way to disillusionment.
The ideals of our Liberation War — democracy, justice, and equality — were fading under the weight of economic hardship, corruption, and political intolerance.
The introduction of one-party rule through BAKSAL in 1975 alienated much of the population, and within the army, quiet frustration was brewing. Discipline was eroding; officers were divided between loyalty and discontent.
Then came August 15, 1975. A group of mid-ranking army officers — both serving and retired — launched a sudden coup, assassinating Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman along with nearly his entire family. The nation was stunned, yet eerily silent. There was no protest, no public outcry. The people, exhausted by hardship and disillusioned by misrule, watched mutely as history took a brutal turn. Only Bangabandhu’s two daughters, Sheikh Hasina and Sheikh Rehana, survived as they were abroad at the time.
The coup leaders, intoxicated by sudden power, ensconced themselves in the Bangabhaban and began running the state whimsically, even meddling in military command matters. This erosion of discipline bred resentment within the army, setting in motion a chain of events that would reshape Bangladesh’s political and military landscape.
The Khaled Musharraf Episode
On November 3, 1975, Brigadier Khaled Musharraf, Bir Uttam — one of the most decorated heroes of our Liberation War — took military action to oust the August coup leaders from Bangabhaban.
Khaled Musharaf action took place without the knowledge of the then Chief of Army Staff, Major General Ziaur Rahman, Bir Uttam. Zia, the Deputy Chief was placed under house arrest, and Khaled promoted himself to Major General, usurping the position of Chief of Army Staff — an act viewed by many as illegitimate and rash.
Khaled’s move, though aimed at restoring the chain of command, alienated both officers and troops.
Zia was a highly respected figure — admired for his honesty, composure, and for being the voice that had declared Bangladesh’s independence in 1971. The rank and file felt deep unease at his humiliation. Public sympathy too lay with Zia, while Khaled’s association with the deposed leaders of Awami League government through his family further inflamed suspicion.
Though Khaled negotiated a peaceful exit for the August 15 mutineers, they left behind one final act of vengeance — cold blooded murder in the Central Jail of four senior Awami League leaders: Tajuddin Ahmad, Syed Nazrul Islam, Captain Mansur Ali, and A.H.M. Qamaruzzaman. This grisly act deepened the nation’s trauma.
Khaled’s position quickly weakened. His hasty actions, poor planning without clear appreciation, lack of political backing, and mistrust within the ranks rendered his hold on power precarious.
I believe his ambitions and greed of power blinded his foresight about the possible repercussions. For four chaotic days, Bangladesh drifted without real governance. Then, on November 6, Justice Abu Sadat Mohammad Sayem was sworn in as President, and by this time, Khaled’s authority was already crumbling.
The Sepoy Mutiny of November 7
In the early hours of November 7, 1975 all order collapsed. Discontented troops, mostly from non-infantry units , stormed out of their barracks, chanting slogans and demanding justice for their perceived grievances. What began as a military revolt soon turned into a social upheaval — later branded as the “Sepoy Mutiny.”
The mutiny, engineered largely by retired Lt. Col. Abu Taher, Bir Uttam — another decorated and wounded freedom fighter and a radical leftist — sought to replace the army’s hierarchy with a so-called “revolutionary soldiers’ council.” The mutineers rescued General Zia from house arrest and reinstated him as Army Chief. Khaled Musharraf and his associates fled Bangabhaban and took refuge in the 10 East Bengal Regiment near the Parliament house.
Ironically, Khaled trusted this unit; yet, in a cruel twist of fate, the very troops he relied on turned against him, killing him and two of his closest colleagues, Colonel Nazmul Huda BB and Lieutenant Colonel Haider BU. It was a tragic end to a brave officer — and a grim example of how power and chaos had devoured reason, contributing to death.
Inside the Eye of the Storm
At the time, I was serving as Controller of the Army Corps of Clerks (ACC), many of whose men joined the uprising. In the early morning of November 7, a group of mutineers burst into my AHQ mess room and asked me to accompany them. The night had been sleepless — gunfire echoed across Dhaka Cantonment like thunder; tracer bullets lit up the midnight sky. To my relief, the soldiers who came for me were from the ACC — men who knew and respected me. Their demeanor was disciplined, even deferential, and my fear gradually subsided.
They took me to the 2nd Field Artillery Regiment, close to General Zia’s residence, where he had set up a temporary command post. The atmosphere was charged with uncertainty. Zia appeared calm but deeply troubled, as disturbing reports poured in from various cantonments. Upon my arrival, I found among others, Lt. Col. Aminul Haque BU, CO , 4th East Bengal, (later Brigadier and DG, NSI) and Major Mahiuddin , Acting CO, 2nd Field Artillery (later executed under Sheikh Hasina’s government for his alleged role in the August 15 killings).
Shortly thereafter, Brigadier Mir Shawkat Ali, Bir Uttam, was brought in. Amidst the confusion, Zia received a call from General Khalilur Rahman, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, pledging loyalty and requesting to join him. I volunteered to escort General Khalil from his residence — a decision that led me into a sequence of encounters I shall never forget.
At Khalil’s house, I found him in the company of Air Vice Marshal Tawab, the Chief of Air Staff, who had also been meeting with Khaled Musharraf the night before at the Bangabhaban. I escorted both men safely back to Zia’s command post. Not long after, I was tasked again — this time to bring Rear Admiral M.H. Khan, the Navy Chief. I found him at his home, visibly anxious, his wife pleading with me in tears. I reassured her I meant no harm, and in an attempt to calm the Admiral, I hoisted his own flag on the Chief of Army Staff’s jeep with double stars, before escorting him to the Chief. Zia later commended my composure in front of the assembled officers — a gesture I still cherish.
Then came a chilling moment. Two officers, one from PMA 23rd short course and another from BMA 1st short course, burst into the room announcing they had brought the “national betrayers” , all dead. Zia asked who they were, and they replied bluntly — Khaled Musharraf, Nazmul Huda, and Haide. Zia’s face turned pale. He lowered his head into his hands and sobbed silently. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled with emotion: “I never wanted this. Stop the killings immediately.” It was one of the most human moments I witnessed from a man otherwise known for his stoic calm.
The Clash Between Zia and Taher
As the chaos continued, a Risaldar named Sarwar from the 1st Bengal Lancers — one of the August coup’s core units — stormed into Zia’s office, shouting, “Where is Zia Bhai?” His audacity stunned everyone. When confronted by Brigadier Shawkat, he arrogantly introduced himself as a member of the “Revolutionary Command” under Col. Taher and declared that he had come to take Zia to the radio station to announce a “people’s government.” Zia erupted in fury, ordering him out and placing him in the quarter guard ( a cell under individual Units for temporarily detaining errant soldiers) .
Moments later, Col. Taher himself arrived, insisting that Zia hand over power to a civilian “revolutionary council” dominated by the Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD). Their heated exchange conspicuously ended their long friendship. Zia emerged from the room visibly shaken, calling Taher “insane” and “dangerous.”
Those present urged Zia to make a public broadcast to restore order and confidence. A statement was drafted and recorded at the cantonment — much like his historic Declaration of Independence from Kalurghat on March 26, 1971 — urging calm, discipline, and a return to normal life.
Zia declared that he had resumed his responsibilities as Chief of Army and Deputy Chief Martial Law Administrator (DCMLA) and warned that lawlessness would not be tolerated.
Taming of the Firestorm
The following two days were among the darkest in our military history. Members of Taher’s Gonobahini infiltrated army units, attacking officers and their families in Dhaka and beyond. Zia, exhausted but resolute, travelled from cantonment to cantonment, appealing to soldiers to return to barracks, surrender their arms, and uphold discipline. He promised to address their grievances — including the abolition of the batman system — but also warned of severe punishment for any future insubordination.
Gradually, calm returned. Zia’s quiet authority, honesty, and empathy for ordinary soldiers earned him respect across the ranks. But the political front soon ignited again. Taher’s men, including one of his younger brothers, attempted to kidnap the Indian High Commissioner, Samar Sen, an act clearly aimed at provoking India’s intervention in Bangladesh’s internal affairs. The attempt failed, and the conspirators were hunted down. Taher himself was arrested, tried in a military court, and executed in July 1976 — a tragic end to another freedom fighter. Zia reportedly never found peace over that decision.
Rebuilding a Nation
Once stability returned, Zia turned his energy toward rebuilding a fractured nation. He restored political pluralism, lifted restrictions on parties, and organized a national referendum seeking public assent to rule, which was overwhelmingly endorsed by all. He dissolved the one-party system and opened the space for multiparty democracy. He encouraged Sheikh Hasina’s return from exile and allowed her to resume political activities — a gesture of reconciliation rare in our politics. He also initiated a long-term reform campaign that included not only political liberalism, economic restructuring but also diplomatic outreach to engage with the international community including the Arab nations.
Zia’s leadership, though controversial in parts, gave the nation a sense of direction and purpose. He emphasized self-reliance, rural development, and decentralization. He inspired a generation to believe again in the possibilities of an independent Bangladesh. Tragically, his life too was cut short — assassinated on May 30, 1981, in yet another abortive coup, plunging the country into years of uncertainty and darkness.
Reflections
Fifty years on, as I look back to those tumultuous days, I realize that November 1975 was more than a struggle for power — it was a defining moment in our search for identity and direction. It revealed both the heroism and the hubris of men in uniform; the thin line between patriotism and ambition; good intent and misdirected strategy and the price of disunity; and the resilience of a nation that, despite everything, refused to collapse.
The one question that has always haunted me is what truly caused the adversarial relationship between Zia and Taher — two men who were once so close, bound by trust and shared struggles. Beneath the surface, away from public view, their conflict stemmed not from personal animosity but from profoundly contrasting visions for the nation.
It is true that Taher engineered the Sepoy Mutiny, reactivating the secret cells of the Gonobahini within the non-infantry troops. Through them, he inspired soldiers across other battalions with his fiery slogans and radical demands. Taher’s clandestine plan was to use Zia’s popularity to mobilize the armed forces, seize state power, and establish a socialist order — even to the extent of creating a rankless army.
But unknown to Taher, most of the troops’ loyalty lay with Zia, not with him. Zia, shrewd and pragmatic, did not subscribe to Taher’s revolutionary idealism. Guided by his own instincts and political foresight, he resisted Taher’s design. In the end, their confrontation was less a personal betrayal than an ideological divergence — a clash between two men who both loved their country, but envisioned its future in very different ways
For me, it remains a time of painful memory and profound reflection — a reminder that leadership without moral restraint leads only to tragedy, and that even amid chaos, integrity and courage can reshape history.
The author, Ashraf ud Doula, Former Secretary, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Government of Bangladesh, Former Ambassador of Bangladesh to Japan, Vietnam and Laos, Former High Commissioner to Australia, New Zealand , Fiji and Sri Lanka.
He can be reached by email : ashraf.ud.doula@gmail.com; Phone: +8801730450460, + 8801938527284
Disclaimer
This article is written entirely from the personal recollections of the author, recounting events that took place half a century ago. There may be unintentional errors or omissions, for which the author welcomes corrections or clarifications from readers.
The author is a freedom fighter, a retired Major, a former Secretary and served as Bangladeshi ambassador to several countries.
Editor’s Note
Few dates in Bangladesh’s history stir such complex emotions as November 7, 1975 — a day that began in confusion and bloodshed but ended in a profound turning point for the nation. In this evocative eyewitness account, Ambassador Ashraf Ud Doula, a freedom fighter and then a young army officer, recounted in this article the dramatic chain of events that unfolded after the assassination of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the counter-coups that followed. Through his vivid recollections, readers glimpse the chaos, courage, and human frailty that defined those early years of independence. The article captures how the events of November 1975 — marked by tragedy and renewal — reshaped the destiny of Bangladesh and the moral compass of its armed forces.
November 7, 1975, a day that evokes memories of sadness, rejuvenation, and ecstasy — a turning point that changed the course of a nation.
The Eyewitness Account
November 7, 1975 — a day of reckoning that evokes in me memories of sadness, rejuvenation, and ecstasy, all at once. It was the day that changed the course of our nation’s history and, in many ways, the psyche of our people.
Barely four years had passed since independence, and yet the euphoria of 1971 had given way to disillusionment.
The ideals of our Liberation War — democracy, justice, and equality — were fading under the weight of economic hardship, corruption, and political intolerance.
The introduction of one-party rule through BAKSAL in 1975 alienated much of the population, and within the army, quiet frustration was brewing. Discipline was eroding; officers were divided between loyalty and discontent.
Then came August 15, 1975. A group of mid-ranking army officers — both serving and retired — launched a sudden coup, assassinating Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman along with nearly his entire family. The nation was stunned, yet eerily silent. There was no protest, no public outcry. The people, exhausted by hardship and disillusioned by misrule, watched mutely as history took a brutal turn. Only Bangabandhu’s two daughters, Sheikh Hasina and Sheikh Rehana, survived as they were abroad at the time.
The coup leaders, intoxicated by sudden power, ensconced themselves in the Bangabhaban and began running the state whimsically, even meddling in military command matters. This erosion of discipline bred resentment within the army, setting in motion a chain of events that would reshape Bangladesh’s political and military landscape.
The Khaled Musharraf Episode
On November 3, 1975, Brigadier Khaled Musharraf, Bir Uttam — one of the most decorated heroes of our Liberation War — took military action to oust the August coup leaders from Bangabhaban.
Khaled Musharaf action took place without the knowledge of the then Chief of Army Staff, Major General Ziaur Rahman, Bir Uttam. Zia, the Deputy Chief was placed under house arrest, and Khaled promoted himself to Major General, usurping the position of Chief of Army Staff — an act viewed by many as illegitimate and rash.
Khaled’s move, though aimed at restoring the chain of command, alienated both officers and troops.
Zia was a highly respected figure — admired for his honesty, composure, and for being the voice that had declared Bangladesh’s independence in 1971. The rank and file felt deep unease at his humiliation. Public sympathy too lay with Zia, while Khaled’s association with the deposed leaders of Awami League government through his family further inflamed suspicion.
Though Khaled negotiated a peaceful exit for the August 15 mutineers, they left behind one final act of vengeance — cold blooded murder in the Central Jail of four senior Awami League leaders: Tajuddin Ahmad, Syed Nazrul Islam, Captain Mansur Ali, and A.H.M. Qamaruzzaman. This grisly act deepened the nation’s trauma.
Khaled’s position quickly weakened. His hasty actions, poor planning without clear appreciation, lack of political backing, and mistrust within the ranks rendered his hold on power precarious.
I believe his ambitions and greed of power blinded his foresight about the possible repercussions. For four chaotic days, Bangladesh drifted without real governance. Then, on November 6, Justice Abu Sadat Mohammad Sayem was sworn in as President, and by this time, Khaled’s authority was already crumbling.
The Sepoy Mutiny of November 7
In the early hours of November 7, 1975 all order collapsed. Discontented troops, mostly from non-infantry units , stormed out of their barracks, chanting slogans and demanding justice for their perceived grievances. What began as a military revolt soon turned into a social upheaval — later branded as the “Sepoy Mutiny.”
The mutiny, engineered largely by retired Lt. Col. Abu Taher, Bir Uttam — another decorated and wounded freedom fighter and a radical leftist — sought to replace the army’s hierarchy with a so-called “revolutionary soldiers’ council.” The mutineers rescued General Zia from house arrest and reinstated him as Army Chief. Khaled Musharraf and his associates fled Bangabhaban and took refuge in the 10 East Bengal Regiment near the Parliament house.
Ironically, Khaled trusted this unit; yet, in a cruel twist of fate, the very troops he relied on turned against him, killing him and two of his closest colleagues, Colonel Nazmul Huda BB and Lieutenant Colonel Haider BU. It was a tragic end to a brave officer — and a grim example of how power and chaos had devoured reason, contributing to death.
Inside the Eye of the Storm
At the time, I was serving as Controller of the Army Corps of Clerks (ACC), many of whose men joined the uprising. In the early morning of November 7, a group of mutineers burst into my AHQ mess room and asked me to accompany them. The night had been sleepless — gunfire echoed across Dhaka Cantonment like thunder; tracer bullets lit up the midnight sky. To my relief, the soldiers who came for me were from the ACC — men who knew and respected me. Their demeanor was disciplined, even deferential, and my fear gradually subsided.
They took me to the 2nd Field Artillery Regiment, close to General Zia’s residence, where he had set up a temporary command post. The atmosphere was charged with uncertainty. Zia appeared calm but deeply troubled, as disturbing reports poured in from various cantonments. Upon my arrival, I found among others, Lt. Col. Aminul Haque BU, CO , 4th East Bengal, (later Brigadier and DG, NSI) and Major Mahiuddin , Acting CO, 2nd Field Artillery (later executed under Sheikh Hasina’s government for his alleged role in the August 15 killings).
Shortly thereafter, Brigadier Mir Shawkat Ali, Bir Uttam, was brought in. Amidst the confusion, Zia received a call from General Khalilur Rahman, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, pledging loyalty and requesting to join him. I volunteered to escort General Khalil from his residence — a decision that led me into a sequence of encounters I shall never forget.
At Khalil’s house, I found him in the company of Air Vice Marshal Tawab, the Chief of Air Staff, who had also been meeting with Khaled Musharraf the night before at the Bangabhaban. I escorted both men safely back to Zia’s command post. Not long after, I was tasked again — this time to bring Rear Admiral M.H. Khan, the Navy Chief. I found him at his home, visibly anxious, his wife pleading with me in tears. I reassured her I meant no harm, and in an attempt to calm the Admiral, I hoisted his own flag on the Chief of Army Staff’s jeep with double stars, before escorting him to the Chief. Zia later commended my composure in front of the assembled officers — a gesture I still cherish.
Then came a chilling moment. Two officers, one from PMA 23rd short course and another from BMA 1st short course, burst into the room announcing they had brought the “national betrayers” , all dead. Zia asked who they were, and they replied bluntly — Khaled Musharraf, Nazmul Huda, and Haide. Zia’s face turned pale. He lowered his head into his hands and sobbed silently. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled with emotion: “I never wanted this. Stop the killings immediately.” It was one of the most human moments I witnessed from a man otherwise known for his stoic calm.
The Clash Between Zia and Taher
As the chaos continued, a Risaldar named Sarwar from the 1st Bengal Lancers — one of the August coup’s core units — stormed into Zia’s office, shouting, “Where is Zia Bhai?” His audacity stunned everyone. When confronted by Brigadier Shawkat, he arrogantly introduced himself as a member of the “Revolutionary Command” under Col. Taher and declared that he had come to take Zia to the radio station to announce a “people’s government.” Zia erupted in fury, ordering him out and placing him in the quarter guard ( a cell under individual Units for temporarily detaining errant soldiers) .
Moments later, Col. Taher himself arrived, insisting that Zia hand over power to a civilian “revolutionary council” dominated by the Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD). Their heated exchange conspicuously ended their long friendship. Zia emerged from the room visibly shaken, calling Taher “insane” and “dangerous.”
Those present urged Zia to make a public broadcast to restore order and confidence. A statement was drafted and recorded at the cantonment — much like his historic Declaration of Independence from Kalurghat on March 26, 1971 — urging calm, discipline, and a return to normal life.
Zia declared that he had resumed his responsibilities as Chief of Army and Deputy Chief Martial Law Administrator (DCMLA) and warned that lawlessness would not be tolerated.
Taming of the Firestorm
The following two days were among the darkest in our military history. Members of Taher’s Gonobahini infiltrated army units, attacking officers and their families in Dhaka and beyond. Zia, exhausted but resolute, travelled from cantonment to cantonment, appealing to soldiers to return to barracks, surrender their arms, and uphold discipline. He promised to address their grievances — including the abolition of the batman system — but also warned of severe punishment for any future insubordination.
Gradually, calm returned. Zia’s quiet authority, honesty, and empathy for ordinary soldiers earned him respect across the ranks. But the political front soon ignited again. Taher’s men, including one of his younger brothers, attempted to kidnap the Indian High Commissioner, Samar Sen, an act clearly aimed at provoking India’s intervention in Bangladesh’s internal affairs. The attempt failed, and the conspirators were hunted down. Taher himself was arrested, tried in a military court, and executed in July 1976 — a tragic end to another freedom fighter. Zia reportedly never found peace over that decision.
Rebuilding a Nation
Once stability returned, Zia turned his energy toward rebuilding a fractured nation. He restored political pluralism, lifted restrictions on parties, and organized a national referendum seeking public assent to rule, which was overwhelmingly endorsed by all. He dissolved the one-party system and opened the space for multiparty democracy. He encouraged Sheikh Hasina’s return from exile and allowed her to resume political activities — a gesture of reconciliation rare in our politics. He also initiated a long-term reform campaign that included not only political liberalism, economic restructuring but also diplomatic outreach to engage with the international community including the Arab nations.
Zia’s leadership, though controversial in parts, gave the nation a sense of direction and purpose. He emphasized self-reliance, rural development, and decentralization. He inspired a generation to believe again in the possibilities of an independent Bangladesh. Tragically, his life too was cut short — assassinated on May 30, 1981, in yet another abortive coup, plunging the country into years of uncertainty and darkness.
Reflections
Fifty years on, as I look back to those tumultuous days, I realize that November 1975 was more than a struggle for power — it was a defining moment in our search for identity and direction. It revealed both the heroism and the hubris of men in uniform; the thin line between patriotism and ambition; good intent and misdirected strategy and the price of disunity; and the resilience of a nation that, despite everything, refused to collapse.
The one question that has always haunted me is what truly caused the adversarial relationship between Zia and Taher — two men who were once so close, bound by trust and shared struggles. Beneath the surface, away from public view, their conflict stemmed not from personal animosity but from profoundly contrasting visions for the nation.
It is true that Taher engineered the Sepoy Mutiny, reactivating the secret cells of the Gonobahini within the non-infantry troops. Through them, he inspired soldiers across other battalions with his fiery slogans and radical demands. Taher’s clandestine plan was to use Zia’s popularity to mobilize the armed forces, seize state power, and establish a socialist order — even to the extent of creating a rankless army.
But unknown to Taher, most of the troops’ loyalty lay with Zia, not with him. Zia, shrewd and pragmatic, did not subscribe to Taher’s revolutionary idealism. Guided by his own instincts and political foresight, he resisted Taher’s design. In the end, their confrontation was less a personal betrayal than an ideological divergence — a clash between two men who both loved their country, but envisioned its future in very different ways
For me, it remains a time of painful memory and profound reflection — a reminder that leadership without moral restraint leads only to tragedy, and that even amid chaos, integrity and courage can reshape history.
The author, Ashraf ud Doula, Former Secretary, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Government of Bangladesh, Former Ambassador of Bangladesh to Japan, Vietnam and Laos, Former High Commissioner to Australia, New Zealand , Fiji and Sri Lanka.
He can be reached by email : ashraf.ud.doula@gmail.com; Phone: +8801730450460, + 8801938527284
Disclaimer
This article is written entirely from the personal recollections of the author, recounting events that took place half a century ago. There may be unintentional errors or omissions, for which the author welcomes corrections or clarifications from readers.
The author is a freedom fighter, a retired Major, a former Secretary and served as Bangladeshi ambassador to several countries.
Editor’s Note
Few dates in Bangladesh’s history stir such complex emotions as November 7, 1975 — a day that began in confusion and bloodshed but ended in a profound turning point for the nation. In this evocative eyewitness account, Ambassador Ashraf Ud Doula, a freedom fighter and then a young army officer, recounted in this article the dramatic chain of events that unfolded after the assassination of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the counter-coups that followed. Through his vivid recollections, readers glimpse the chaos, courage, and human frailty that defined those early years of independence. The article captures how the events of November 1975 — marked by tragedy and renewal — reshaped the destiny of Bangladesh and the moral compass of its armed forces.
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