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“What, mother?” asked the fourth grader, with inquisitive eyes.

“The gunshots …. the screams… it was as if all hell broke lose. The noise was deafening. We had no way of knowing that something like this was going to happen. The night sky was set ablaze by their shells. The shelling continued till early hours of the morning.

“Where were you when all this happened?”

“Home… Comilla....,'she went on, tucking me in, 'Your uncle and some of our cousins, all young chaps back then, were talking about the inevitable war in Bangladesh. Your grandmother was telling the boys to call it a night as it was getting late, but they weren't listening. So she just went to the sitting room and turned off the lights, something I had never seen my mother do. Not a moment passed and we started hearing gunshots and explosions. Armed vehicles started to move into our vicinity that opened fire on innocent people. Their chief targets were young, able bodied men or in other words potential freedom fighters. If those butchers saw our lights turned on, they could have easily anticipated that there were people in our house. We would be left with nothing but the corpses of our brothers. My mother's intuition saved her children's lives on that fateful night. Other parents were not as fortunate as they had to watch their children be slain before their eyes.

“As I found out later that there was one man who had the foresight to predict this event, but I am sure that a massacre of such magnitude was beyond his most dreaded nightmares. In Dhaka, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had actually sent orders to resist the offensive. But his party activists, all of whom were civilians, set up barricades comprising chiefly of go-carts, rickshaws, bamboo sticks, pipes. Those barriers were as helpful in protecting our people as a grasshopper would have been if it were trying to save the whole of France against the Nazi invasion. Their bloodthirstiness knew no bounds, their siege took no prisoners. Babies were tossed up and caught on bayonets. In Dhaka, Razarbag Police line, male dorms of Dhaka University, police head quarters in Pilkhana and many slums were struck the hardest. 25th March 1971 eventually went down in history as one of the bloodiest, most horrifying nights of the century.

“It was the greatest tragedy of our time' said Senator Edward Kennedy,(Younger brother of John F. Kennedy) after returning to Delhi from his visit from refugee camps in Bangladesh. Needless to say that he was among the American statesmen who supported Bangladesh's liberation strife.'

'Why were all those people killed?' I had asked.

'They were killed because our leader Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had inspired us to fight for our freedom. Before him we never thought our country would be free from its captors. His passion for liberty set the country to believe in itself, to walk that long road to independence, to realize its entity as free men. The enemy knew that they were losing control over the people of our country. They tried to scare us from our vision with that brutal abuse of power. But that didn't work, obviously. ' said maa.

One man's voice rose above all. His words tore all boundaries, merged all differences and gave hope to a people who had none. He spoke of a vision so great that it would be revered by the whole world if it could be realized. On 7th March 1971, he gave the country its greatest gift: its freedom.'

Many historians believe that 7th March should be our Independence Day & not 26th March because the radio broadcast of Bangladesh Betaar on 26th March declaring our sovereignty was actually a prerecorded version of the 7th March speech by Sheikh Mujib. The endless bickering over who declared our independence would never crop up either.

To be disposable Banglalees, to top the list of most corrupt nations or to drag its name down the deepest filth of human making was not the drive for the birth of our nation. A day will come when its leaders will not sell their souls or their conscience to trivial, selfish needs. The youth will not be slaves of a system that employs anarchy or corruption to oil its monstrous jaws. The new nation will thrive to excel in spite of all odds. She will rise to see a better day for it is known that the night is darkest before dawn.

NB: the experiences disclosed in the account are those of Mrs. Rina Das, Vice Principle of Holy Cross College (the writer's mom).

References: 'Dusho Chheshatti Dine Swadhinota' By Muhammad Nurul Quadir.

But as I grew up, the meaning of Independence Day started to change. I came to know about the history of my country's existence, about the frightening dark night of 25th march 1971, about the heroic sacrifices of our freedom fighters. My thirst to know about Bangladesh's Independence and war of Liberation grew multifold as I went through the books and movies on our glorious past. Soon the special supplements of the newspaper on independence and other national events related with our independence became my favourite. All these things drew a new meaning of being independent on my mind, but then again, when I was in high school, the meaning of being independent started to change, and it started to be a precious something I was longing for but availing which is the real tough thing.

“The road is very risky, the other day some miscreants hijacked the valuables of your uncle and aunt from this very road, so try to avoid it”, “Don't come outside all alone after the sun sets, we'll pick you up from your coaching”, “Don't go out today, it's strike”-words like these became part of my life. I know due to our so-called social security, girls and young women have to hear this type of advice from elders more than the boys. But I always thought, as I grow older, things will definitely change. And yes, it changed a lot and still changing, but not necessarily in the positive manner as I always dreamed of. Let us see how it changed in the recent past.

Young girls are doing part-time jobs these days, but mostly doing tuitions. You are allowed to go out anytime of the day but condition applicable-there is a question of insecurity that may arise because of goons so be aware, the brothers are there, may be! You are studying in one of the reputed university of the country-wow! That's great! But be careful-anytime our beloved student politicians' 'extra-curricular activities' can cost your life! So finally you completed your graduation and now it's time to join the work as full-timer, but wait-be ready to face the harsh reality if you cannot manage to bribe or do not have 'uncles' for the job…even after you got excellent results! And the stories go on this way…

But wait, give it a second thought, are these the realities for which our heroes dreamed of an independent country? Did the freedom fighters fought for our liberation to see this? I think I'm sounding quite pessimistic, but these are the things which sometimes make you feel like a 'confined' person in your own country. And because of these, even after almost 38 years of our independence; one question peeps not only in my mind is, are we really independent?

Let us change our country for good, let us work together to make Bangladesh look like the one which our heroes dreamed of, the young generations always took the challenge to make the change and now it is our turn. And if we fail to do so, the very question will be there again, are we really independent? Are we…?

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