Opinion » Sheikh Hasina

Beyond the green fields

Sheikh Hasina — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 06:30:50 +0000

In this write-up, Sheikh Hasina talks about her thoughts during her detention from July 16, 2007 to June 11, 2008.

Sub Jail 10 June 2008
In front of my prison house is a green field. The whole Sangsbad Bhaban area is full of trees that make everything look green. And there are so many shades of green on display! Also fronting the house is an evergreen tree which bears red oleander flowers. How green its leaves are! Sometimes the leaves rustle in the breeze. They remind me of the birds I used to hear singing in Ganabhaban. They seem to still be flying towards me. I think of many things and many memories stir in me. Memories are my only companions in this lonely prison.
When I stand on the verandah of the house my eyes roam across the green fields and takes in the road on the other side. Innumerable cars dart across that road ceaselessly. So many people walk on that road! It is especially full of cars in the early morning. They belong to the people who come here for their morning walks.
On the other side of the road is Ganabhaban. If one lets one’s eyes roam one can see a row of trees along the road. Many of them are very tall. In between these trees are coconut trees. And I can see Ganabhaban through the coconut tree leaves. They seem to be looking at me inquisitively. At night the leaves seem to become incandescent. In the morning shalik brides flock these trees. The trees also attract some pretty raucous birds at that time. A very healthy monkey shows up then too. He visits me every day. At times he calls on me at ten or eleven in the morning and at times around two thirty in the afternoon. I feed him bananas and other fruits. Once I was unable to feed him because I had fever. He refused to take any food from the female wardens. When they offered him food he made faces at them from the top of a papaya tree and then took off. I say my Fazr prayer and then read the Qu’ran in the verandah in the morning. Afterwards, I walk back and forth on the verandah. There is also a pomelo tree where the birds shout at the top of their voice. I see them and say to myself: they must be launching a movement. They insist that their demands must be heard! They have to be given food. They will disappear as soon as they have had their fill.
I am a prisoner in the building on this side of the road. A house of the parliamentary buildings has been converted into a sub-jail to incarcerate me. I am in a prison on this side and on the other is Ganabhaban! I was Prime Minister in it for five years—from 1996 to 2001. I used to stay there and now I am imprisoned here. I was Prime Minister then and I am an accused now. And what are the charges against me? I have been charged with extortion!
Apparently I had been guilty of extortion when I was Prime Minister. It took them ten years to discover my guilt! In the interim period, that is to say, from 2001 to 2006 the four-party alliance was in power headed by BNP. They had charge-sheeted me for quite a few reasons but they were never able to accuse me of extortion. The caretaker government has turned out to be more eager to bring charges against me then the alliance government. The irony is that I had launched the movement that would eventually lead to the formation of this caretaker government. Sixty-eight people had lost their lives at the hands of BNP-Jamaat thugs and the police. My movement was aimed at ensuring free and neutral elections. I had wanted the kind of election where people would be able to vote freely. I had launched the movement to prevent the four-party alliance from stage-managing elections and framing the results. I had wanted to consolidate democracy by safeguarding the rights of people to cast their votes without coercion. I had wanted to make elections transparent and the election machinery accountable.
Our people were to be at the center of power in my scheme of things. This is because they are the true owners of the republic. They are the ones who were to be entrusted with the job of deciding who would have power and who would be deprived of it. I had wanted to give back this fundamental and constitutional right of people back to them. They were to be given the means to vote freely. The government was supposed to be formed through elections. There would be transparency and accountability. There would be no fixing of ballots. No tampering with results or taking over poll booths! Voters would feel free to make their choices through the ballot box. On behalf of my party and the grand alliance we had taken a number of steps to ensure open and neutral elections.
I had declared the plan to reform the caretaker government system and the Election Commission on behalf of the Grand Alliance. The goals and the intentions of the declaration were quite clear. The aim was to strengthen the constitution, reinforce democracy and protect the rights of people. They were being deprived of those rights again and again. Time and again they were being shoved into darkness. My intention was to ensure that they would not be deprived of their rights anymore. A powerful group was having a great time at the expense of ordinary people.
The people of the country had become fed up with the misrule, abuse of power, corruption, systematic loot, torture and cruelty perpetrated by the four-party alliance’s rule. They found themselves unable to tolerate such misrule after a point. Moreover, the price of rice, lentils, cooking oil, salt and all essential everyday items had increased at such a rate that people found themselves unable to cope with the way things were. They wanted change. But the kind of change they wanted was through elections, as is the norm in a democracy. No other form of change is acceptable. I had launched a movement to attain this goal through elections conducted in a free, transparent and neutral manner. Our people had responded to this movement spontaneously and whole-heartedly. The movement had become a successful one. President Iajuddin had been forced to resign from his position as the Chief Adviser. The Armed Forces had taken up their position besides their countrymen.
Mr. Fakhruddin had taker oath as the Chief Adviser. We were present in that oath-taking ceremony and had supported the proceedings. BNP and Jamaat had boycotted the ceremony and had stayed away from the event. We had expected the caretaker government to adopt the reform proposals we had adopted by holding free and neutral elections and by forming a government consisting of representatives elected by our citizens. It was hoped that they would be able to solve the problems faced by people. But what do I see this day? People are still leading a life of deprivation. Although the government has been paying lip service to elections they are concocting schemes to postpone them. They have announced a “road map” according to which elections are going to be held two years later! Ordinary people have their doubts about whether elections will be held at all.
It seems that the men sitting in positions of power are glued to their seats. New parties are being formed all the time. Some people who have been driven out by their guardians because of their dubious natures have been busy forming parties with the help of funds provided by the government who have been making ill use of the country’s finances. Owners of black money and those who thrive on taking exorbitant interests are having a field day. In particular, people who would never dream of being elected to any position are suddenly in the limelight. The kinds of people who have always lost their election deposits are the ones who are the most active now. Those who are honest and transparent in their dealings and have never sold themselves to the intelligence agencies of the country are at a disadvantage. On the other hand, those who are given to shady dealings have come close to these agencies. They are now being reincarnated as honest and innocent folks. How strange is this world!
And there is another group of people who always appear to hold out for the opportune moment. These are the types of people who seem to have a “Use Me” sticker prominently displayed on them. They would like to be at other people’s service for their own selfish ends. They are adept at changing their colors. Now they have suddenly taken on the guise of innocence.
I had led a movement that had achieved its goal of initiating elections to be conducted by a caretaker government. I had been instrumental in the formation of the caretaker government. And my reward—to be labeled an extortionist and accused of corruption! My reward was imprisonment! For five years the Four-Party Alliance had been doing everything it could to dig up my past in a vain bid to find something with which to tarnish my reputation as well as that of my family but had failed to come up with anything. And yet Mr. Fakruddin’s government is claiming that have found evidence to indict me!
They claim to have discovered that I nominated people in my party on the basis of donations. But instead of nominating the person who had offered me fifty crore taka I had chosen someone else to contest the election for my party. I refused nomination to the person who had offered me a lot more money. How could it be that I refused fifty crore taka and was now being accused of accepting only five crore taka? I could exercise so much restraint when offered a sum as huge as fifty crore taka and yet was now being blamed for succumbing to the relatively modest sum of five crore taka. These people have found that I have gone for five crore taka and have not noted that I had refused fifty crore taka. What brilliance!
What is notable is that the people who have been filing the complaints had been whisked off to secret destinations before they had come up with their accusations. Their family members were unable to find out where they had been taken to or how they were doing. They had searched for them desperately everywhere. Their abductors took five days with some of them, ten or twenty days or even longer with others, till torture had made these abducted men agree to file these cases.
The first case of extortion framed against me wanted to prove that someone had stuffed a small briefcase filled with five hundred taka notes that totaled three crore taka and had left it in Ganabhaban. But a case filled with so much money would have weighed at least sixty-nine kg. Three 30 inches Samsonite suitcases would be required to hold money amounting to three crores. But some magician knew how to fill a small briefcase with so much money! Surely that person knew some magical trick and the people who discovered it were no ordinary mortals!
Those who brought the accusations knew all along that I never accept any bribes. All my life I have never had any interactions with such people. I have never asked anyone for money. To ask anything from anyone is against my nature. In my personal life I have never wanted anything from anyone. I like to spend according to my ability. I don’t indulge myself in exotic food on borrowed money. I don’t show off with money that I have stolen from someone.
They have managed to create an atmosphere of panic throughout the country and it has come to a state where anyone can be accused of anything by someone else. And to resort to torture too—this was a clear case of violation of human rights! All this was designed to sentence me on the basis of trumped up charges so that I would be disqualified from participating in elections. And they were doing so since they knew that in any election our people would vote for me. They knew that if I got elected I would form the government. The citizens of our country wanted me to form the next government. But these people want to trample on the wishes of our citizens. But what I have been saying is true only for those are on the side of the prosecution in this instance.
Let me now come to the judges. I was able to witness the efficiency of these judges while the case was being heard in the court. The court seemed to be crowded with people from the task force and detective agencies. A few of them had attempted to disguise themselves by wearing caps so that they would look different. They looked weird in their disguises.
All the time the proceedings seem to me to be controlled by invisible forces that were exerting pressure on the proceedings. I keep thinking: is this any way of judging? Such travesty of justice! Such farce in the name of justice! How would the judges use their consciences, knowledge and wisdom and think their decisions through? Judges take their oath according to the constitution but would they be able to fulfill their constitutional obligations in such a situation?
In fact, a judge of the High Court said openly that he was not being able to function according to the oath he had sworn. Once can imagine how the lower courts are functioning if such is the state of the higher courts! The judiciary was separated from the executive branch with much fanfare but their freedom seems to be confined to pen and paper now. No more than lip service is being done to the idea. It is obvious that the intelligence agencies are keeping the judges under pressure. If the High Court issues a ruling, it is stayed by the Supreme Court! Ultimately the High Court bench is changed. Apparently, a special envoy from the government met the Chief Justice to tell him that no bail should be given to me. Imagine the situation when the Supreme Court has to be directed! If the highest court has no freedom one can only imagine the way things are in the lower courts.
What it all comes to is that the sentence that will be passed in the end is whatever the government has decided should be passed. On 1 November 2007 the judiciary was separated from the executive branch of the government. The question that I will ask is if one compares the state of the judiciary before 1 November and after that date what will be the result? Why this farce enacted before the people?
I was in Ganabhaban but am now in a prison. What guarantee is there that those who are in power now won’t be behind bars in the future? The seats of power and the prison gate are very close to each other!
President Mosharraf of Pakistan is now trying to find an honorable way of exiting. And who is he a supplicant to? To the people he had once insulted and removed from power. God is above everything and He moves in mysterious ways. It is according to His directives that the man who is a king now will be a beggar tomorrow. But because the trappings of power blind mortals they forget this truth.
One day when this house is converted into a sub jail again who is going to be its inmate? I wait for that day!
This building of the prison had a lot of trees once Fruit trees, flowering trees, and the tall trees that bordered the walls have all been felled. Even the trees outside the wall have been cut down. The area outside has been encircled by a barbed wire fence. On the roof a bunker has been set up where RAB and police men stand guard. On the ground police and prison guard patrols are on duty. The first floor of this two-storied building is separated from the ground floor by a collapsible gate on which hangs a huge lock all day long. They have made arrangements to confine me in a room in the west side of this floor. It is from the window of this room that I can view the green field and Ganabhaban. Once boys used to play football in this field but now that has stopped. .
The whole house is very dirty. The upholstery is poor and frayed; newspapers and papers are strewn all over the house. A room on the east side of the unit is so dirty that it appears to be a garbage dump! Everything from the floor to the walls is unclean and full of dirt. Even the tables and chairs have collected dust. A jail is supposed to function according to certain norms. A Personal Account or P. C. can be used to keep money. I gave the money I had to the jailer so that he could keep the money in such an account as is the rule. I spent my own money to buy towels, and cleaning materials as well as cleaning agents such as Vim, Harpic and brushes, brooms, etc. Though one can use the money in the P. C. to buy necessary items, some regulations have to be followed. In any case, I was given the items I had asked for. A bed that was provided collapsed as soon as I tried to sit on it. I was given a sofa set but it was very dirty. The bed cover was torn, apparently because a rat had fancied it. The mattress was tattered as well as unclean. It was as if all these items had been brought from a godown. However, I had been allotted three new towels and three bed sheets. I spread one of the sheets over the sofa and spent the night on it. The next day I declared that the broken bed would either have to be replaced or removed, in which case I would lie down on the floor. This was because the previous day when the bed had collapsed, the D. I. G. of Prisons, Haider Siddique had given orders so that the bed could be held up by putting bricks under it and this was done. But this has not made the bed fit for sleeping. In any case, the bed was replaced a day later and this became a news item in the papers!
My food comes from the Central Jail premises. Sometimes it is early evening by the time my lunch reaches this building. And the food menu—the less said about it the better! At least I am being provided food thrice a day while a lot of people have to go without food the whole day. We have to accept whatever God has in store for us. My father had to endure a lot of suffering whenever he was in prison. At least I have a house to myself with one good room, although it is damp and mildewed in places. My father would be confined in a prison cell. All his life he had to undergo so much suffering. To transform the fate of Bengal’s people he had struggled all his life and endured all sorts of hardship. Pakistan’s Mianwali prison was in a place where the weather was extreme—summer were very hot and winters very cold there. He would be given nothing besides flat bread and a lentil dish. My father never liked such food. And yet we never heard him talk about the food he had been served in that or any other prison. He would never complain to us about having such food. It was only when he was talking to my mother that such details of his prison life would emerge from some fold of the conversation. He would always suppress the hardships he had to endure.
When I look out from the eastern window I can see the Sangsad Bhaban buildings. Ganabhaban is on the north. Whenever I think of it I go to the window to take a look at the complex. I see people travelling on the road across the field. One day while I was standing beside the window I saw the very healthy monkey cross the field and go over to the northern side. This monkey would come and stand on the southern wall everyday. Whenever I would throw some food bits at it would pick them up. It would come my way twice or thrice a day. But today he seemed to have left for good. He crossed the vast field with measured steps. I noticed that he walked for a while and then looked back, once to the left and then to the right. Then he resumed his walk. In this manner he finally crossed the field and disappeared into the trees that bordered the lake. He seemed to have headed towards Ganabhaban. Because the monkey was free it could move in this leisurely manner and cross the field. I, on the other hand, am a prisoner, all by myself in the first floor of the building. I can’t walk across the field even if I want to because I do not have the freedom that he enjoys. But my mind is free; it can’t be constrained. In my imagination I keep crossing the green field, again and again….
Ganabhaban 6 March, 2010
My first morning in Ganabhaban. Yesterday I moved from the Jamuna house to this one. The first thing I did on arriving was to open the southern door. Would I be able to view the house where I had been incarcerated in the Sangsad Bhaban complex? I manage to get a glimpse of the house through the trees.
I had been kept as a prisoner in that house on 16 July, 2007. It had been converted into a sub jail according to an order issued by the caretaker government. The other buildings of the complex had been converted into special courts. Case after case was filed to harass me. I remember seeing Ganabhaban from the northern window of my room then.
It was during the caretaker government’s rule that it was discovered that I was the most corrupt of persons. That is why the first strategy that was pursued was to try to keep me outside the country. But this ploy did not succeed. Later, trumped up charges were made to arrest me without a warrant and I was dragged to court. Afterwards, I was confined in the sub jail for eleven months. I was completely by myself—a solitary prisoner! It was from this prison house that I would view Ganabhaban! On the east was Sangsad Bhaban and on the north was Ganabhaban.
This is my first morning in Ganabhaban. As is the always the case, I woke up at five o’ clock. At five-thirty I said my prayers. I then heard the bugle sound as our national flag was raised ceremonially. I went to the library to recite the Holy Qu’ran. When I was here previously I had a room in the eastern wing of the building converted into a library. But the books I had brought for it are not there any longer. I, however, know this room as the library. A shelf has been brought here for now. I hope to make this into a proper library once more. In any case, when I finished reciting from the Qu’ran I thought that I would take a walk. The sun had not yet come up. Ganabhaban was full of bird songs. Birds were fluttering their wings in their nests. They would take off any time now in search of food. Ganabhaban was full of trees and birds. I opened the southern window. Because this part was so full of trees there wasn’t much to be seen from here. Nevertheless, I could see the coconut tree that I always glimpsed when I was confined in the prison house in Sangsad Bhaban. The leaves of that tree would sway in the breeze and this would allow me to see the lights of Ganabhaban at night. During daytime I would see some parts of that complex. From here I can view the walls of the prison house. Now the parliamentary whip, Liton Chowdhury, stays in that house. He had asked me before shifting if it would be proper to move into the house. He was a little hesitant to do so since he knew it had been converted into a sub jail to imprison me. When I gave him my permission he moved in. I can now see the flag from between the leaves as well as a part of the house, Sophia and her mother had got up early in the morning. I went to their room. Joy was sleeping. Joy and his wife and daughter were visiting Dhaka. I had moved into this house with them yesterday. After Maghreb prayers I arranged for a Milad prayer meeting here.
God can do anything that he wants to. The Ganabhaban field, the road that runs alongside, the vast playing field beyond! I was a prisoner in the house beside the field. And now I am the Prime Minister living in the house on the other side in the Ganabhaban complex. I was also here in Ganabhaban in 1996 when I was the Prime Minister. A caretaker government was formed under Latifur Rahman. Sahabuddin Saheb was then the president. On 16 July 2001, that is to say the day after power had been handed over the telephone lines to Ganabhaban were cut. The electricity cables too were cut—something that is totally illegal. It takes time to shift houses. SSF had declared that they would be able to ensure my security if they were here to protect me. The government had enacted a law stating that as the daughter of the father of the nation I would be allotted a government house and given full security coverage. It had been decided previously that I would be staying on in Ganabhaban. Our tenant had left Sudha Sadan and maintenance work was being done there. I had decided that I would shift to that house in a month’s time. But how could they be so insulting? There are people who had sold off a President’s house for a taka! My father had been martyred while he was the President of the country. Despite this fact, I had not made the government sell me one of its houses to me for a taka.
I had handed over power to the caretaker government and moved to Dhanmondi’s Sudha Sadan for five years. On 16 August 2001 I vacated Ganabhaban. I returned to the complex once again on 5 March 2010. God confers power on whoever He wants to and snatches it away from that person and gives it back again. I read in the 26th Sura of the Holy Qu’ran known as Sura Imran: “Say, “O Lord, You are the proprietor of this kingdom. You confer it on whoever you want to and snatch it away when You want to. You bestow honour as You want to and take it away when You want to. You honour one as You wish and disgrace one as You want to. All the good one can hope for is in Your hands!’”.
I have always kept faith in God. That is why I have come back to Ganabhaban once again. I have a lot of memories of this place. My father was here as the Prime Minister though he used to stay in our Road 32 house. But he would attend office in this complex. He would have lunch here and rest for a while afterward. In the evening he would take a walk inside its compounds. My two brothers, Captain Sheikh Kamal and Lieutenant Sheikh Jamal, got married here. My youngest brother Russell would fish in this lake. He would throw the fish he caught back into the lake. Every day Joy would come and visit this place with Russell. The Ganabhaban was the official residence of the Prime Minister of the independent country of Bangladesh. It was built according to the plan designed by the famous architect Louis Kahn.
Now I am in Ganabhaban again looking at the sub jail! I moved to this house as the Prime Minister of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh yesterday. Elections were held on December 29. It was a transparently held, peaceful and orderly election. People from all walks of life had been able to vote freely in this election, irrespective of religion, color or class. In the previous voter list there was more than 1 crore 23 lakh fake voters. This caretaker government printed the voter list along with photographs of voters. Our Armed Forces was responsible for printing this voter’s list in the quickest possible time. They managed to make the impossible possible. To create a national identity card along with the voter’s list was a formidable task. But through this process the scheme the military administration had concocted to manipulate the people’s vote came to an end.
What was most obvious in the elections held this time was the immense desire of ordinary people to cast their votes. The elite of our country, that is to say our upper class, rarely go to voting centers to cast their votes. This time they went to the voting centers even with their household helps. They had stood in queue for hours to vote. People from neighboring slums were also part of the queue. Parallel lines had been formed and everyone waited for their turn to cast the vote patiently. Hindus, Christians and Buddhists—people of all religions were able to cast their votes in a peaceful environment confidently. This atmosphere was absent in the 2001 elections. Then houses were locked up from outside so that their inhabitants could not come out and go the voting centers to cast their votes. Moreover, voters were intimidated and brutalized so that they would not dare to vote. But on this occasion things were completely different.
If the people of this country can cast their vote freely and in a peaceful environment in every election in this country, we will be able to leave injustice, corruption, terrorism behind us. Governments will then have to act transparently and would have to be accountable for their actions. The most important thing is that the country would then be able to move forward rapidly. All members of parliament and ministers would have to be on their toes. This is because they would not have to plead for votes from voters. They would have to work for their constituency with such thoughts in their minds. The Election Commission will have to work freely and impartially for this reason.
Slowly the sunlight is spreading. This dawn seems to be lighting up in the mild wintry breeze blowing from the north. The whole atmosphere is echoing with birdcalls. I am grateful to the people of Bangladesh. I have sworn an oath to transform the live of our people and improve their lot. I will have to repay the love they have shown for me. I have taken a vow to present to them a world that is beautiful and happy.
My golden Bengal, I love you!

-Translated by Fakrul Alam, Department of English, University of Dhaka

——————–
Sheikh Hasina, the prime minister of Bangladesh

Spending some time in Dhaka central jail

Sheikh Hasina — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 17:50:25 +0000

I stepped into Dhaka Central Jail on 25th of Baisakh, 1417. I reached the main gate of the jail after taking the road from Chankharpool. During the 1970 elections, I often used to visit this part of town, going from house to house, campaigning on father’s behalf. In 1954 our family had moved to Dhaka and from that year onwards we used to take this route regularly. I would come to visit father in jail along with Kamal and little Jamal. I would hold on to my mother’s hand as we entered the prison. We were allowed to visit him twice a month. This wasn’t the first time that father had been jailed. In 1948 he was incarcerated on quite a few occasions. From 1948 to 1952 he had to spend three whole years in prison without a break. Later, he would be put behind bars again in 1958, 1962, 1964, 1966, and 1971.

I was entering that same prison once more. We reached the gate. The door was opened for us. The car went in. Begum Sajeda Chowdhury was with me in the car. We got down. The inspector general of prison welcomed us. The jail superintendent, the jailer and other officials were also present. Our home minister, Sahara Khatun, the home secretary and some other people were there too.

I kept thinking of Rehana. I was supposed to have brought her along with me. I had thought up the idea of the two of us visiting the jail together. I was feeling depressed at the thought of coming here today without her. The place we had got down from the car was where father used to walk on his way from the cell. We would look for him on the walkway eagerly as he came towards us. Today I was walking on that very road!

A platform had been built there. We put some flowers on it. A sculpture of my father by Shamim Sikder had been set up on a pillar there. There are six pillars in this structure and the sculpture was placed on the one in the middle. The rest had water spouting up from them. It gave the impression of an overflowing fountain.

The platform was canopied by a mango tree. Yellow birds would light on this tree once upon a time. The chirping of the birds would make up for the feeling of loneliness one would feel in prison. They were companions of men who had to lead solitary lives. We went to see the house where father had been incarcerated. It was a building with a tin roof. It had very small windows. It was surrounded by high walls. Those walls would even block the wind blowing freely outside. There was a bed inside—very small both in terms of length and breadth. My father was six feet tall and so I wondered how he managed to sleep on that small bed day after day. The room had a small table and next to it was a wooden chair. We could also see some small cooking utensils and a tea cup. A few other things had been kept on the table. A wall next to it had a sign saying “Pharmacy”. I went there and saw a hole inside, presumably meant to be the lavatory. Next to it was a space, probably for performing ablutions. A little further away was the place for taking a bath. There was a cistern to store water for that purpose. Next to it was the kitchen of the unit. In it was an oven made of clay raised on a stand, which you would have to operate with firewood. I could not hold back my tears when I came to this place. He had to spend day after day and year after year in solitary confinement in this unit, enduring the pangs that come with loneliness. It was difficult for anyone to even conceive of such a fate. The sabeda fruit tree that my father had planted had now become quite big. He had also planted a kamini tree. The tree was still there. It was full in bloom. These flowers would be strewn everywhere. And the fragrance would be all over the place.

The sculptor of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman at the Dhaka central jail

In 1966 father had been arrested because he had been spearheading the 6-point movement demanding autonomy for Bengalis. He had been imprisoned in this jailhouse yet again. One after another, cases were filed against him. In this lonely cell his only diversions were reading books and gardening. He had appealed for a tape recorder so that he could listen to music but his request was not granted. The Ayub-Monem Khan government was bent on torturing him in every possible way. At one point in 1968, he was taken away from Dhaka Central Jail. While he was in prison he was taken away from here to Dhaka cantonment and was shown re-arrested. On 19 July, they began proceedings against him in the Agartola Conspiracy case. For almost six months till the trial had started we had no news of him and knew nothing about the state of his health or where he was being confined.

Anyone visiting this jail and looking at the conditions here will be able to understand the extent of the hardship he had to endure and the way he had staked his life, suffering day after day, to carry on the struggle for the rights of Bengalis. He had loved the people of Bengal with all his heart. He had fought for the political, economic and cultural freedom of our people. He could never reconcile himself to the sufferings of our impoverished people. That is why the only thing he dreamt of was to find the path that would lead his people away from hunger and poverty. His profound love for his country inspired him to carry on. He found the strength to sustain him and overcome all adversity because his goal was to change the lot of his countrymen.

Every time we used to go to jail to visit father it would seem that we would be sadder than he was when we left him. Jamal was a small boy then and would refuse to leave father behind. Later, when Rehana would come along with us, she too would act the same way and would not at all want to leave him. Because Kamal and I were older we would not demonstrate our sadness so overtly like our younger siblings. All the fathers of our acquaintance would take their children to school, go out shopping with them, and tell stories or play with them; only we were deprived of our father’s love, affection and care. When Russell was a little boy nothing would induce him to leave father behind in jail. He would insist on taking father back home with him. Father would try to convince him that this was his home and he was supposed to live in it. He would say to Russell: “Go to your own house with your mother’. But would the child ever listen to him? He would throw fits and start crying. When we came home he would keep asking mother about father. Mother used to tell him: “I am your father; call me ‘dad’.

We went next to the place where our four national leaders were murdered. We walked to that place. Father’s close political associates Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmed, M. Monsur Ali and Qamruzaman were brutally murdered on 3 November 1975, while in captivity. This must be the first recorded instance in the history of a civilised nation of such murders of prisoners in custody by people who had forced their way inside the prison. The murderers had come inside the jail with their weapons and had killed these four leaders one after the other. Here too I placed some floral wreaths on the platform that had been built. Busts of these leaders had been erected on four pillars. These pillars had been built within a fountain. The bars of the prison rooms here still bore bullet marks. However, the marks left by the bullets that had hit the walls had been plastered over a long time back. No traces of them could be found any longer. With us were Mr. Tajuddin’s two daughters Rimi and Mimi, Mr. Mansur Ali’s son Mohammed Nasim, and Mr, Quamruzaman’s son Liton, who is the present mayor of Rajshahi city.

The sculptor of four national leaders at the Dhaka central jail

The father of the nation, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was the first president of independent Bangladesh as well as the president of the Bangladesh Awami League. Syed Nazrul Islam was the vice-president of the country as well as the vice-president of the party. Mr. Tajuddin was the first prime minister of Bangladesh and the party’s general secretary. Captain Mansur Ali and Qamruzaman were members of the central committee of the Awami League as well as ministers of the cabinet. They followed Bangabondhu’s directives and directed the war of liberation and the struggle for independence. They had taken part in every movement and endured torture and imprisonment along the way. They displayed great resourcefulness and skills in taking over the helms of the liberation struggle till victory was achieved. The assassins could never accept the victory that was the outcome of the liberation movement. That is why they systematically murdered the father of the nation, Bangobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and almost all his family members on August 15 and these four national leaders on November 3. The hirelings of the forces that had been defeated in the liberation war tried to take revenge in this manner. The nation will hate these goons and conspirators forever.

On our way back from this part of the prison we visited the women’s ward. Sajeda Chowdhury, Matia Chowdhury and Dipti had come with me on this visit. Many had been kept as political prisoners here. I had some of them accompany me as I visited this ward. I met the prison guards who had been on duty in the sub-jail where I had been confined earlier. We then came to the main gate. We were made to sit in the room where we would get to meet father.

I was married to Dr. M. A. Wajed on 17 November, 1967. A few days later my mother got the permission to come and visit my father here along with us. My father wove two garlands for Dr. Wajed and me from the flowers he had gathered from the prison. Those were the first garlands father would present us. This was how he handed over his daughter to her husband in this very room! And this was the place I was being made to sit again this day!

I made an announcement to the effect that 1000 prisoners would be released in an amnesty. I then went to another room after leaving this one. This was the room where we would get to meet father all the time. But it looked very different now. I found the table that I used to see in the past in our visits in the next room. It had round legs. They were still holding the table up! In our childhood we would swing our legs as we sat on that table. Jamal was an infant then and he would start playing as soon as he would be put down on the table. When Rehana came to our parents she would claim my mother’s lap. But she too had played on that table in our visits here! This was because father had been made a prisoner again and again. And then it was Russell’s turn to take over mother’s lap. He was our beloved youngest brother and he too would play on this table in time. The verandah with the tin roof at the back of this unit was in the state that we had seen it many years ago. That is where we waited eagerly for the moment father would show up. This was because we had to wait for a long time. We would often have to stand outside the jail gate. When permission was finally granted, we would go inside and take our seats. Once we had sat down, they would go to fetch father. We were allowed to meet him only for half an hour. This was the maximum time permitted for our meetings. My mother would take some tea along with some snacks that she had made. Two very high ranking officials of a detective agency would be present in the visiting room. Their task was probably to report to those at the top the exchanges that took place between us.

I stayed in the prison from five in the evening to 7pm. I directed the prison authorities to serve a big dinner for all prisoners that night. The thought that was occurring to me again and again in my visit here was how much the people of Bengal loved my father. He would give up all comforts and all that could have brought him peace and embraced sorrow and hardship for only one reason—to attain freedom and to ensure independence for the people of Bengal. He would never give a thought to his own life. My mother followed him all his life as if she was his shadow—she made no demands and wanted nothing. How much of her husband would she get? Year after year he would spend in jail. And when he was outside it he would be fully involved in movements and struggles. My mother took on her shoulders all the responsibility of bringing up the children and of managing the house. She did everything she could to help him achieve the goals he had set for himself.

I kept remembering my grandparents. They would come to this prison to visit their son. My father was very fortunate to have such parents. My grandmother was a great woman. She would contribute in every possible way to everything my father did. She inspired and encouraged him since she knew her son was striving to help the people of the country. She was proud that her son was doing his best for the betterment of the impoverished people of the country. My grandparents never prevented their son from doing what he wanted to do; on the contrary, they encouraged him and assisted him. Could the man have been able to sacrifice so much and achieve as much as he did if he did not have their blessings? Certainly not! The entire family had to make sacrifices for the freedom of the people of the country and for the welfare of its people. This is why we were able to achieve freedom.

Now everyone is savouring freedom, but does everyone remember the kind of sacrifices many people made and the hardships they underwent so that we could be free?

— Translated by Professor Fakrul Alam

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Sheikh Hasina, the prime minister of Bangladesh