A daughter’s pride

By: Malika Begum (Atlanta, USA)

Malika Begum and her father. Photo courtesy of Malika Begum.

Growing up with a freedom fighter as a parent meant we had to endure hours of nostalgic memories from our father. At the time, I don’t think my siblings or I paid much attention to them. But today, I think of those stories. I wish I could recall the vivid imagery he painted for us, recall the nostalgic words he pieced together in his pure Sylheti dialect and recall the love he had for his country. Though I don’t remember all of it, I do remember one story very well. He told it to us many times and it eventually became a permanent memory. It was a story which demonstrated the strength, courage, and the hope the people of Bangladesh had which led them to victory, leading us to celebrate these historical days all over the world today. I wish I could re-tell this story in Sylheti for full comedic commentary, but I will attempt to translate to English as best I can.

“I hated studying and I hated school. Joining the freedom fighters was the only way I could escape academia, so that’s what I did.” He paused. “But when I joined, I was the only person from the whole Kanaighat/Chatul Bazar area. I learned how bad things really were. You don’t hear the terrible stories when you’re sheltered at home, you only heard them when you were out there, when you saw the death, the hunger, and the sadness. Once I saw it, I couldn’t leave, no matter how bad it got.” He was pensive. As if reliving the memory as he was telling us.

“One day I woke up, in between two mountain peaks, there were hundreds of others around me. We were all there for the same reason, to liberate our country. But we had limited supplies, no weapons, and we were losing people every day. We didn’t know how much longer we could carry on like this. Pakistani soldiers were everywhere. Every morning I woke up, I thought of going back home.

One day the General told us about a massacre that happened in Kanaighat — I knew I had to go back. We had to send reinforcements, even if it meant taking a small group of men, myself. And that’s what I did. By the time we reached Kanaighat from the mountains, we were too late. Sixteen local leaders were shot and thrown into the river which ran through Kanaighat. When I arrived with my group of ten men, I knew I would go after those responsible. We didn’t realize though, that we were so close to victory.

That same day, there was an announcement that we had won. Victory was ours. All the Pakistani forces retreated, many were killed, including those responsible for the deaths of the village leaders.”

It was such a proud moment for us. For all of us. We were able to protect our land and our people and fight against those who wanted to take away our freedom. The next day, we all headed for Dhaka.”

Malika Begum’s father participated in a demonstration. Photo courtesy of Malika Begum.

Today, I think of all the martyrs who lost their lives in our fight to freedom. I think of my dad, I think about my friend Lipon’s father. I think of what would have happened if they didn’t risk their lives to fight for our independence and realize today how proud I am to be a daughter of a freedom fighter.