The clan had gathered two days earlier for the wedding of Mujib’s niece, the daughter of his younger sister, and many of them had stayed on to pay their respects and to get the great man’s blessings. 32, Dhanmandi, the landmark which was till then the centre of the world of the Bangladeshis. In another part of the city Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was relaxing with a small family group in his modest bungalow on Road No.
*All right,’ he told Farook, ‘If it’s got to be done let’s do it. When their harsh meaning finally seeped through, the lanky artillery officer straightened out. He appeared to be visibly digesting Farook’s words. But remember, if I fail they will surely hang you also.’Īnother long silence from Rashid. I’m going ahead even if I have to do it alone.
It’s my decision,’ he told the other major. How can we do it?įarook stared at Rashid, a glint of steel shining through the tinted glasses he wore. After a long moment of silence he hissed: Are you mad? It’s too short notice. Suddenly the months of secret plotting had reached a conclusion. He looked round nervously to see if anyone had overheard Farook’s bombshell. ‘I’m going to do it on the 15th,’ he told Rashid, ‘I’m going to knock off Mujib on Friday morning. and Farida’s elder sister Zubeida, nicknamed ‘Tinku’ with her husband Major Khandaker Abdur Rashid who commanded the 2 Field Artillery based in Dhaka. With the couple were Farook’s mother and father, Farida’s mother who had come from Chittagong. When the guests had left, a small family group gathered on the lawn for a snack and coffee. What he had set his mind on doing would either put him before a firing squad or indelibly carve his name in the history of Bangladeshis. ‘I sold my automatic slide projector for 3500 Takkas and blew it all on the party. He recalled that he was in an unusually expansive mood. But on that anniversary night Farook gave not a hint of the dark secret he carried. Farida’s bouquet may have saved his life. And Brigadier Hug would silently thank his stars for his gallantry. Three days later, with the benefit of hindsight, all those present would squeeze their minds searching every detail of the party for some clue that might have betrayed the momentous events which were to follow. And he made a big thing of presenting it to Farida. He brought an enormous bouquet of monsoon flowers made up by the head mali of Gonobaban, Sheikh Mujib’s official residence. But Brigadier Huq, who came later, upstaged them all. Friends and relatives had come with table lamps, vases and boxes gift-wrapped in the yellow, green and red kite paper favoured by the shopkeepers of New Market. Farook’s men, who had chipped in for an anniversary present, brought a handsome bedroom carpet woven from jute fibres. So too was Brigadier Mashoorul Hug, Military Secretary to President Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. There was enough to feed an armyand the army was everywhere, The Chief of the General Staff, Brigadier Khalid Musharraf, who was Farook’s ‘Mamu’ (maternal uncle) was there. Inside the club house the buffet was a generous spread of lamb biryani, kebabs, an assortment of curries and more than a dozen bowls of fruit salad. The music came from the Army Headquarters band which set the mood with hits from the latest Bengali films. Dozens of coloured lights strung between the acacias made a colourful canopy for the guests with their glasses of sherbet gathered in amiable groups on the lawn. The party was a typical military bash since Farook was second generation army. Sunshine and a clear sky made a welcome break in the monsoons which had been soaking the city for weeks. Even the heavens seemed to have taken note of it. So their party was something of a social event. Farook and Farida were a popular young couple, well-connected to the enduring upper crust of Bengali society, the polished old silver that gives the country its university chancellors, men of the Bar and senior civil servants. Not one of the hundred or so guests at the Dhaka Golf Club on the evening of 12 August, 1975, is ever likely to forget the third wedding anniversary party given by the Acting Commandant of the Bengal Lancers, Major Farook Rahman, and his lovely young wife Farida. Nobody understands what I do for my country. Bangladesh A Legacy of Blood | Anthony Mascarenhas
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