The 1971 crisis and Prof Waris Mir

The year 1970 doesn’t seem that distant when one is overcome by a cloud of nostalgia, encompassing memories both drear and dear. Such was the beginning of a memorable decade for me when I was admitted into the Department of Philosophy at the University of the Punjab. I had the privilege of meeting Prof Waris Mir, my mentor who chiselled a lot of the rough corners of my political outlook and thought. The best words to describe Waris Mir would be: a democracy-loving, progressive and liberal intellectual and a truthful, honest and brave teacher and journalist. The timeline I am taking my readers back to while remembering Waris Mir is one of chaotic turmoil in the political history of Pakistan.
To briefly summarise it, the first general elections in Pakistan had shown sweeping results in favour of the Awami League but the winners of the poll were still waiting for the reins of power to be handed to them. We were breathing the inexplicable feeling of dismay and distrust as young students of politics and current affairs. At such times, the atmosphere around us was always charged with political ions which led me to take part in my first ever election of the Student’s Union in January 1971 – which I won. Waris Mir was also performing the duties of the advisor to students’ affairs at PU and thus we used to meet quite often. The most memorable time I recall is when the Vice Chancellor of the PU, Allama Allauddin Siddiqui, had sanctioned a trip of the PU Students Union to the then East Pakistan.
The operation of Bengal had begun in March 1971. Our delegation had touched Bengali ground in October 1971, hardly three months before the dismemberment of the East Pakistan in December 1971. Waris Mir wrote a series of columns based on his experiences in Bengal during his stay there. He was perturbed by the reality of the situation as facts lay bare in front of his eyes. His opposition to the action against the Bengalis led him to write his heart out. It was because of his 1971 visit to the then East Pakistan and the travelogue written by him that the Bangladeshi government in 2013 decorated Waris Mir and several other Pakistanis with the highest civil award of the country; these people included Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Habib Jalib, Dr Ghaus Bux Bizenjo, Khan Abdul Wali Khan, Malik Ghulam Jilani.
I take pride in being one of those people who were led by Prof Waris Mir to Dhaka in those days of mortification. We had been prepared by our mentor and guide to face negative sentiments but my first exposure to a life threat came like a blow when Mukti Bahni announced prize money of Rs200,000 each for our heads. Prof Waris Mir was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He didn’t only have to worry about his life but also ours. I have seen many people give up under this kind of pressure but my mentor stood firm and strong. He knew he had to complete what he had started. And so our mission began.
Under storms of threats booming from the private radio station of Mukti Bahni, we visited the Bihari Camps in Muhammad Pur and Meer Pur as well as Chittagong. At one instance we found ourselves witnessing vultures and stray dogs pulling at the human flesh of unidentified dead bodies. At another instance, we were briefed by S K Jillani, commissioner of Chittagong about the brutal murders committed by Mukti Bahni. One day, we were told horrifying stories of ruthlessness by the professors and students of Dhaka University and the other day we were treated like royal guests at the PTV station in Dhaka. Regular transmission was cut off and Punjabi songs were ordered to be aired in honour of the delegates.
Being in Dhaka had its pros and cons. Ironically, the pros were so much seeped into the cons that I found myself lost in a fuzzy haze of grey. The people of West Pakistan had clearly been kept blind to the situation in what was then East Pakistan. We felt guilty but equally helpless also. We wanted to hold a press conference in Dhaka to highlight the situation but the authorities declined our request. Now, when I see the dynamism of a free media, I am compelled to think that if the media were free then, Pakistan could have been saved.
One of the striking meetings we had in those days was with one of the most senior authorities who informed us that the enemy was meddling in the affairs of then East and West Pakistan. One of the delegates asked: what if the enemy attacks? The reply was: “We can take ten of their armies down. Let them bring it.” As the meeting ended, he gave out orders to his subordinates to make sure we would “enjoy” but our hearts were far from any sort of desire for entertainment. The air reeked of gore and gloom. Once back in Lahore, we held a press conference relating our horrific delegation and the realities that lay bare in front of our eyes. Sadly, in a dictatorial regime, none of the newspapers had the spine or the permission to print a word from that press conference.
After earning my Master’s degree, meeting Waris Mir became less frequent but whenever it occurred, it was a joyous moment for me. He was the sort of man who smiled despite the turmoil going on inside him. For him, the threats hadn’t ended with Mukti Bahni but the trail followed him for different reasons back home. His profession as a teacher, a writer, his family, his life, everything was under constant threat from those who felt insecure because of his writings and ideals. There’s a dark side of the moon and one only needs to change one’s angle of perspective to bring that dark side to light. Waris Mir had that capability. The truths about the Pakistani society and politics that had been shoved away into corners untouched were brought into the light in such a way that it created a literary havoc in the minds of his readers.
Just a few days before his death, I met him at an event and found him unusually blue. When I inquired, he said, “I don’t think I can take this much longer,” a response that I could not have expected from the thunderous Waris Mir. I tried to cheer him up before we parted and all he said in return with a smiling face was: “Don’t worry about me, I have faith.” Days later when I heard he had passed away on 9th July 1987, I was shocked beyond words. Today, on his death anniversary, I don’t just want to remember my mentor, my teacher, but also stress the fact that today we are faced with problems that are more dire than those in 1971. We need to open our minds and tie up our loose ends. Prof Waris Mir was punished by the then authorities for writing the truth. Even today the same atmosphere prevails. And believe me, the loss is ours. The death anniversary of Prof Waris Mir falls today (July 9).
The writer is a veteran politician.