A Dhaka trip down memory lane

LAST month, my octogenarian parents visited Dhaka under the Victory Day exchange programme for 1971 war veterans. ‘Mukti Joddhas’ (the guerrilla army of freedom fighters, then known as the Mukti Bahini) embarked upon a reciprocal journey to Kolkata to commemorate the Bangladesh liberation war. Having missed the opportunity to attend the golden jubilee of the creation of Bangladesh in 2021, my parents were excited when they got the invite this time.

On their return, they were profoundly appreciative of the hospitality extended to them by their hosts. When the Indian passengers on board a Biman plane reached Dhaka, they were welcomed by a reception party led by the General Officer Commanding, Dhaka logistics area, at Hazrat Shahjalal International Airport. The Bangladesh President hosted the delegates in his presidential palace, where Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina interacted with them warmly.

The visit to the museum dedicated to former President Sheikh Mujibur Rahman (popularly called ‘Bangabandhu’) was a very touching experience for them. The place was originally the house where Mujibur was assassinated along with most of his family members in a military coup in 1975. ‘Two of his daughters, including the current Prime Minister, survived the tragedy as they were in West Germany,’ my father told his curious grandchildren.

During a banquet, the Bangladesh army chief delivered a speech expressing gratitude to the Indian armed forces for their triumphant collaboration in 1971. It was a celebration of a shared victory, remembering the sacrifices made by soldiers. The aged ‘Mukti Joddhas’, too, hosted the delegation, exchanging tales of valour. ‘I was part of history. I witnessed the surrender ceremony,’ father told the hosts.

A leisurely cruise on the Padma river was the high point of their visit, offering a serene breather from the official engagements. ‘Before our departure, they showered us with so many goodies that we had to request for extra bags to carry them home,’ mother said, feeling relieved that she didn’t have to go shopping in the capital city.

‘What is your impression of their army?’ I asked father. ‘I did not see a single soldier who was overweight or old. Many of the liaison officers were women. That’s unusual for an Islamic country,’ he said.

‘I had cursed my stars when your father had to leave me for the impending war, with you in my womb,’ mother said. ‘But after this trip, I feel it was well worth the anxiety and pain to see this day,’ she added. I am glad that in the evening of their lives, they were able to travel to the country they had longed to visit together.