Visions of Surrender: Eye-Witness Accounts of the Fall of Dacca in the 1971 Indo-Pakistan War by Siddhant Abhijit Joshi

The Partition of India accompanied its independence in 1947. Its causes, effects and death toll have been covered in excruciating detail by historians across the previous century and this one – I need not, therefore, enumerate those here. What is relatively (and surprisingly) unknown, however, is that Pakistan – when it was created in 1947 – also encompassed what we know today as “Bangladesh”. This decision – a decision driven by the vehement support of the population of the province of East Bengal – continues to confound historians. Philip Oldenburg, in fact, calls this model of Pakistan “a place [that was] insufficiently imagined”. In 1971, after a 9-month long guerrilla war and ethnic violence that was indistinguishable from genocide, the Indian Armed Forces staged an intervention on the 3rd of December – known as the 3rd Indo-Pak War. On the 16th, the Pakistanis surrendered unconditionally to the Indians in the East Pakistani capital of Dacca – now Dhaka. This article will explore the narratives of that surrender – as recorded by those that were present. Across the 24 years of the existence of “West Pakistan” and “East Pakistan”, their relationship was a relationship that was consistently out of balance. These 2 and a half decades were marked by racism, economic exploitation, and the systemic suppression of the political rights of ethnic Bengalis – i.e. the people who made up the overwhelming majority of the population of East Pakistan and, consequently, Pakistan as a whole. The two wings of Pakistan – separated by the entire breadth of India – were united by only one shared pillar of Pakistan’s national identity – that they were (supposedly) a safe haven for Muslims of the subcontinent. This frail unity would not last. The slow dissolution of East Pakistan and the process of the birth of Bangladesh begun the year after independence. Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the “Father of Pakistan”, while speaking at a gathering of students in the University of Dacca in East Pakistan in 1948 confirmed that the national language of the new state of Pakistan would be, solely, Urdu – a language Jinnah believed to be the lingua franca of all Muslims in the subcontinent. However, the Bengali people of East Pakistan spoke Bengali – a language they considered to be the cornerstone of their cultural identity – and the decision to ignore Bengali as a “co-national” language sparked outrage, triggering mass protests immediately. The sentiment of distrust this decision created would last until 1971, and the independence of Bangladesh. Over these 24 years, Bengalis found themselves consistently side-lined on the national level – their language, culture and people became second class. In the eyes of many upper-class West Pakistanis, the Bengalis were a “bastard people” – a phrase often uttered by Lt. Gen. A. A. K. Niazi, the General Officer Commanding in Charge (GOC-in-C) of erstwhile East Pakistan Command. The final nail in the coffin – the immediate spark for rebellion and war – would be the 1971 Pakistani General Election. A Bengali political party, the Awami League led by the charismatic Bengali politician Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, swept the General Elections and should have formed government in that year. President Yahya Khan, unable to bring himself to accept that he lost to a Bengali party, offered to share power – and when that offer was (predictably) declined, he declared the elections null and void. Within an hour, the historian Z. R. Khan records, “the streets of Dacca were filled with people – workers, small shopkeepers and students – voicing loudly their indignation against the regime. Innumerable processions started crisscrossing the city, raising slogans of demands for … the establishment of an independent Bangladesh.” On the 26th of March, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman would proclaim the independence of Bangladesh and announced the start of the struggle for liberation. The Pakistani response – Operation Searchlight – was brutal. In its crackdown on Bengali separatism and in its offensives against the rebels, known as the “Mukti Bahini” (or Army of Liberation), anywhere between 300,000 and 3 million Bengali civilians were killed. There has been no conclusive count. Over 10 million refugees spilled over into India. By April, India had begun to officially train, arm and command the Mukti Bahini. By November, war between India and Pakistan was inevitable. On December 3rd, a series of Pakistani surprise air attacks triggered official war between India and Pakistan. On December 16th, Lt. Gen. A. A. K. Niazi signed an unconditional surrender in Dacca and surrendered all Pakistani forces to Indian Lt. Gen. Jagjit Singh Aurora. It is this surrender, labelled by NYT journalist Sydney Schanberg as “2 Men at a Table”, that was the moment East Pakistan ceased to exist and Bangladesh was born. Multiple accounts exist of this moment – but today, we will look at 3. The first is Lieutenant General (then Major General) Jack Farj Rafael Jacob – who was then the Chief of Staff of the Indian Army’s Eastern Command. He was a war hero – having fought against the Japanese in World War 2 and in every war of India’s since independence. During the 3rd Indo-Pak War, he was responsible for a large proportion of Indian troops that crossed into East Pakistan. The second is Brigadier Siddique Salik (then a Major) – who was a staff officer on Lt. Gen. A. A. K. Niazi’s staff throughout the war. As a staff officer, and a trusted one at that, he was privy to all senior meetings and has taken incredibly intricate notes of the conduct of the war throughout its 9-months in his book Witness to Surrender. He is the best Pakistani source available to historians as Pakistan has sealed away all official documents relating to the war and has not declassified them since 1971. And the third and final narrator is Gavin Young – an intrepid young reporter from The Observer, sister newspaper to The Guardian. He remained in Dacca throughout the war, reporting from the famed Intercontinental Hotel Dacca, which became a de-facto neutral zone in the summer months and then, in December, came officially under UN and Red Cross jurisdiction.

First, we shall consult Lt. Gen. Jacob’s recollection of the surrender – a recollection that is, certainly, the most emotionless. In his book Surrender at Dacca, Lt. Gen. Jacob recalls that day – the 16th of December – most matter-of-factly, expressing only the slightest hints of frustration at bureaucratic and scheduling delays. He notes that the day before, i.e. the 15th, he had received an odd invitation from the enemy – Lt. Gen. A. A. K. Niazi had invited the Indian general to lunch with him on the 16th, ostensibly to discuss surrender. Around 1100hrs on the 16th, General Jacob receives orders from the Indian Chief of Army Staff (the legendary Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw) stating that he is to accept Niazi’s invitation and secure his signature on the Instrument of Surrender by the evening of the 16th. In accordance with these orders, he took a helicopter and landed at Dacca alongside a handful of senior Indian officers – from all 3 services, i.e. Army, Navy and Air Force. They were received by Indian troops that had entered the city on the day prior and driven through chaotic and jubilant streets to the Headquarters of the Pakistani Eastern Command. Before lunch could commence, General Jacob saw fit to get General Niazi to agree to the terms of surrender – unconditional though they may have been. He records: “I returned to Niazi's office and Col Khara [an officer that had accompanied General Jacob] read out the terms of surrender. There was dead silence in the room, as tears streamed down Niazi's cheeks. The others in the room became fidgety. … Niazi said that what I was asking him to sign was unconditional surrender. When we were drafting the Instrument of Surrender we had tried to word it in such a manner that it would not be offensive. … I once again reiterated that as we had informed him earlier, through radio broadcasts and in our tele-conversations that they would be treated as soldiers with due dignity and the Geneva Convention would be strictly honoured. Further, we would protect all ethnic minorities. These guarantees and clauses in the Instrument of Surrender are unique and are not found in any other surrender documents. Niazi passed on the document to the others to study. They wanted some changes. I reiterated that the terms were already very generous and leaving them to deliberate, walked out. … As I returned to the office, Niazi informed me that orders to cease firing had gone out to those who were still resisting and the cease fire was being fully implemented. I asked him if the document was acceptable. He handed it back to me without comment. I took this as acceptance.” General Jacob proceeds to describe the actual surrender with the same tone – one totally devoid of any emotion. “Though there had been very little time for preparation, the ceremony went off reasonably well. After inspecting the guard of honour Aurora and Niazi proceeded to the table. The surrender documents brought with Aurora were placed on the table. Niazi glanced through them curiously and signed. Aurora signed. I took a careful look at the documents and was aghast to see the heading—which read 'Instrument of Surrender—To Be Signed at 1631 Hours IST (Indian Standard Time)' I looked at my watch. It showed a time of 1655 hours. Niazi then undid his epaulette and removed his .38 revolver with attached lanyard and handed it over to Aurora. There were tears in his eyes. It was getting dark. The crowd on the Race Course started shouting anti-Niazi and anti-Pakistani slogans and abuses.” Brigadier Salik’s account of the surrender itself does not much differ, though he does, indeed, describe Niazi’s and Jacob’s first meeting in greater detail. “Major General Jacob brought the ‘surrender deed’ which General Niazi and his Chief of Staff preferred to call the ‘draft cease-fire agreement’. Jacob handed over the papers to [Brigadier] Baqar, who placed them before Major General Farman. General Farman objected to the clause pertaining [to the Pakistanis’ surrendering] to the ‘Joint Command of Indian and Bangladesh’. … Colonel Khera of Indian military intelligence, who was standing on the side, added ‘Oh, that is an internal matter between India and Bangladesh. You are surrendering to the Indian Army only.’ The document was passed to Niazi who glanced through it without any comment and pushed it back, across the table, to Farman. Farman said ‘It is for the Commander to accept or reject it’. Niazi said nothing. This was taken to imply his acceptance." That being said, Salik is much more emotional when describing the final days of Dacca and its whimpering surrender to a tiny column of Indian paratroopers. His description of the end of the fighting betrays a man that has had to, in the face of all preparation for a glorious defence, accept a quiet and almost gutless defeat. “14 December was the last day of the East Pakistan Government. The debris of the Government and Government House were scattered. The enemy only had to neutralise General Niazi and his disorganised forces to complete the Caesarean birth of Bangladesh. By now, General Niazi too had lost all hope … He slumped back into his earlier mood of despondency and hardly came out of his fortified cabin. … [pre-dawn, 16 December] Major General Nagra of the 101 Communications Zone [an ad-hoc Indian division-size unit], who was following the advance commando troops, held back on the far side of the [Mirpur Bridge, an undefended gateway to Dacca] and wrote a chit for Lieutenant General Amir Abdullah Khan Niazi: ‘Dear Abdullah, I am at Mirpur Bridge. Send your representative.’ … He was on the threshold of Dacca. … Major General Farman asked General Niazi, ‘Have you any reserves?’ Niazi again said nothing. … Niazi looked to [Major General] Jamshed, the defender of Dacca, who shook his head sideways to signify ‘nothing’. ‘If that is the case, go and do what he (Nagra) asks’, Farman and Niazi said almost simultaneously. … The Indian General entered Dacca with a handful of soldiers and a lot of pride. That was the fall of Dacca. It fell quietly, like a heart patient. Neither were its limbs chopped nor its body hacked. It just ceased to exist as an independent city. Stories about the fall of Singapore, Paris or Berlin were not repeated here.” Though this wounded Brigadier Salik’s pride as a soldier and as a Pakistani, it would not have come as a surprise. As Brigadier Salik himself records, the Generals (most importantly, Major Generals Rahim and Jamshed and Lieutenant General Niazi) had seen the writing on the wall as early as December 9th. By December 12th, they were asking the Pakistan Army HQ in Rawalpindi in West Pakistan for permission to surrender. “Major General Rahim, who sustained minor injuries while fleeing form Chandpur, was convalescing at General Farman’s residence after initial medical treatment. … Farman was with him. It was 12 December, the 9th day of all out war. Their minds naturally turned to the most crucial subject of the day: is Dacca defensible? … Rahim was convinced that ceasefire alone was the answer. Farman was surprised to hear this from Rahim, who had always advocated a prolonged and decisive war against India. He said, with a tinge of irony, ‘Have you lost your nerve – so soon!?’. Rahim insisted that it was already too late. During the discussion, Lieutenant General Niazi and Major General Jamshed entered the room to see the ‘wounded General’. Rahim repeated the suggestion to Niazi, who showed no reaction. … Avoiding the subject, Farman slipped into the adjoining room. After spending some time with Rahim, General Niazi walked into Farman’s room and said, ‘Then send the signal to Rawalpindi.’ It appeared he had accepted General Farman’s advice.” Between the 12th and the 14th, the military and civilian officials present in East Pakistan would send multiple requests, proposals and unofficial notes to the offices of the Pakistan Army Chief of Staff as well as the President of Pakistan asking for permission to surrender. The memorandum sent on the 12th ended with a plea to President Yahya Kham to ‘do everything possible to save innocent lives’. On the 14th, the President would finally respond, ordering the Governor of East Pakistan (a man who had already resigned his post) and General Niazi to ‘take all necessary measures to stop the fighting’. Brigadier Salik has recorded his message to Niazi precisely. “You have fought a heroic battle against overwhelming odds. The nation is proud of you and the world full of admiration. I have done all that is humanly possible to find an acceptable solution to the problem. You have now reached a stage where further resistance is no longer humanly possible nor will it serve any useful purpose. It will only lead to further loss of lives and destruction. You should now take all necessary measures to stop the fighting and preserve the lives of armed forces personnel, all those from West Pakistan and all loyal elements.” Gavin Young was one of the few reporters present when these orders from President Khan were received by Niazi. He was also present at the “surrender lunch” on the 16th, when General Jacob was entertained by Niazi before he formally signed the Instrument of Surrender. His account, much fresher than the recollections of either General Jacob or Brigadier Salik, records the emotions of that momentous day. “The first morning of the ceasefire [not to be confused with surrender], when victorious and vanquished met at last at Army headquarters in North Dacca, I saw the officers of both sides looking at each other bleakly but without rancour. There was no Indian jubilation. Simply a drained sense of sad futility. … When the Indian Eastern Command Chief of Staff, General Jacob, arrived in Dacca at noon by helicopter, he looked desperately tired and cast down. I lunched with him and General Niazi and General Farman Ali. Also present was Mr. Malik, the Governor who had resigned on Tuesday [the 14th]. … It was an embarrassing meal. We stood up and picked at curried chicken legs and bananas. Indians and Pakistanis hardly spoke to one another. The surrender had not yet been signed. … Niazi told me ‘We surrendered because otherwise we’d have had to destroy the city between our two armies. We would have had to surrender anyway, so what was the point in continuing?’ he gave me a pale smile. … The humiliation of defeat is shocking to see. The sight of Farman Ali, grey faced and desolate, wandering alone across the Dacca racecourse after the surrender, was not something one wanted to see again. Nor – despite his faults – do I ever again want to contemplate a man like General Niazi, large a portly, heeling and toeing across the grass to the howls of the jubilant Bengalis. Or to see him reading the surrender terms, crowded by the television cameramen and the probing microphones that cheapen the dignity and tragedy of great defeat. … Still less would I care to again to see the crowning insult, the unbuckling of his gun belt and its handing over to the turbaned Indian commander, General Aurora. At that point, I saw Niazi’s face blurring with misery. One hoped more than anything that he would not cry. He did not.”

In many ways, the relationship between East Pakistan and West Pakistan very much resembled that between the colonised and the coloniser. Dacca was, in the eyes of many senior West Pakistanis, something akin to a colonial outpost – a sign that the idea of Pakistan (which solely meant, of course, West Pakistan) was succeeding, perhaps beating the “Idea of India”. In the birth of Bangladesh and the sundering of Pakistan, West Pakistani officials did not accept any fault or blame. According to Major General Khadim Hussain Raja, the man in charge of Operation Searchlight, only India – and in precise fact, the Indian National Congress – is to blame for the death of East Pakistan. In earlier paragraphs of the same chapter of the same book, he notes the carefully designed economic and political disparity that turned East Pakistan into a vassal of the West. His eschewing of any culpability is symptomatic – it can be found across all Pakistani accounts of the war. General Niazi referred to Bengalis as a bastard people and blamed them for their troubles. Brigadier Salik records a litany of instances of racism and loot, directed by West Pakistanis to the East Pakistani Bengalis – though he stresses, of course, that he did not engage in such behaviour. East Pakistan had been, one can say with certainty, doomed at inception and it was “2 men at a table” that saw that doom fulfilled.