March 7: An eye witness account

THE speech by Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib given at the Race Course (now Suhrawardy Uddyan) forty-four years ago on March 7 galvanised the nation toward a freedom movement that culminated in victory nine months later. But the victory was not achieved before shedding a river of blood, and the sacrifices of tens of thousands of families. I was privileged to be a part of that historic scene as one in the audience of a million who had gathered at the meeting, albeit thousands of feet away. Getting any closer was not possible. Some personal reflections of this momentous day will not be out of place here.

I had returned to Dhaka from Chittagong the day before (March 6) from a settlement training camp. The settlement training in Chittagong that was to last six weeks was hastily brought to a close by the government because of political unrest, which had already set in following Bangabandhu's earlier call for civil disobedience. We were ordered to go to our respective duty stations—in my case, Munshiganj.

Bangabandhu's meeting on March 7 was already a subject of all kinds of speculation much before it was delivered. People waited in great anticipation for the next steps in the movement to achieve his demands. Never before had a Bangali leader attained such fame and attention as Sheikh Mujib did during that tumultuous period. He had become the rallying point for every segment of the Bangali society; he was the champion of every Bangali cause. Everyone was eager to hear what Sheikh Mujib would say on March 7.  There was even speculation that he might declare independence unilaterally that day. But there were serious apprehensions that the Pakistan army, which had refrained so long from taking any action, would unleash its wrath on the agitators.  

Regardless of apprehensions, the turnout at the Suhrawardy Uddyan on March 7 was spectacular. People descended on the meeting ground from early morning in huge numbers, using all kinds of transportation, under all kinds of banners. I had not originally planned on attending the meeting as I was supposed to leave for Munshiganj that day.  However, the friends with whom I was staying in Dhaka advised me to leave after hearing the speech. But attending the meeting became an adventure by itself. Although it was scheduled to start in the afternoon, the grounds were already full by noon, and crowds had occupied the main streets leading to the meeting ground. It was impossible to approach the vicinity of the meeting in a car as the meeting time neared. After several futile attempts at negotiating our way, we decided to park near the Curzon Hall and walk from there. However, leaving the car unattended in those uncertain times was also risky.  We decided to park the car, and listen to the speech from near the Curzon Hall. There were loudspeakers everywhere; therefore, hearing Bangabandhu would not be a problem.  All we had to endure was a hot sun.

As we watched from our vantage point, thousands of people were milling into the streets and pouring in from everywhere, carrying posters and banners and raising slogans in support of Bangabandhu and his demands. I would never see such a gathering of people again. The most striking aspect was the discipline with which the crowds gathered and behaved. There was no unruliness, no vandalism, and no show of force.  

Bangabandhu gave his historic speech well after the scheduled time. It lasted about twenty minutes. We could not see him from where we were; but we heard his every word, which still reverberate in my ears. His speech stopped short of declaring independence.  Pay no taxes, he declared. Close all government offices sine die; and stop all commerce with West Pakistan, he further added. His pronouncements made him the sole authority over East Pakistan. He gave an ultimatum to Pakistan, either listen to us or leave us alone. And the people listened, interrupting his speech with sky-rending slogans, jumped in joy, and gave him their total and unconditional support. This was an historic day and moment. It would later become the watershed event leading to the birth of Bangladesh.  

The streets of Dhaka became virtual grounds of jubilant processions after the meeting.  The returning crowds rent the streets with slogans, but never resorted to any vandalism. (In fact, looking back I wonder how a people of same breed could turn so violent only a few decades later.) The police were friendly with the crowds; in fact they also blended in with them, so much so that the traffic cops forgot their duty. It took us more than an hour to reach home in Dhanmandi by car—a distance of only two miles from the meeting grounds—dodging all the street processions.   

For many people in the streets, and even in the parlours of well-to-do neighbourhoods of Dhaka, not only the day but also the future belonged to Sheikh Mujib. He was on the way to victory, and the whole Bangali nation was behind him. But the Bangali victory was never to be easy, as we all would learn only seventeen days later. The army stayed in the barracks on March 7, only to make preparations for its final assault on March 25.

I left for Munshiganj the next day. Even though the offices were closed I was to stay in the station of duty; even Bangabandhu had required that from all of us. The rest is history.

The writer is a political analyst and commentator.