"They pressed lighted
cigarettes on my throat"
Masud Sadique Chullu
During The Liberation War of Bangladesh, Masud Sadique Chulla was
a valiant Freedom Fighter of the Guerrilla Squad, Crack Platoon, under Sector 2.
On August 30.1971, he was arrested in Dhaka where he was to carry out an
operation. He was taken to the Nakhalpara MP Hostel Concentration Camp, Dhaka,
and was tortured brutally. Fortunately enough, he was spared death as his elder
brother Mr. ASHK Sadique (present Education Minister) was a key bureaucrat in
the then Pakistan Government. Masud Sadique Chullu’s testimony was recorded on
September 20, 1999.
During the liberation war I was a member of a, 17-18 member
Guerrila group, known as ‘Crack Platoon.’ We spent nights at 1 Tenament
House, Elephant Road (Near Ramna Thana) the official residence of my elder
brother Mr. S.S.H.K. Sadique, who was a top civil servant of the then Pakistan
Government. There we stored enough arms and ammunitions to resist the Pakistan
army for three to four hours.
On the midnight of August, 29,1971, the Pakistan army attacked our
house. Lead by Major Quaiyum, followed by a small group, knocked at the door.
When my, brother opened the door the Major asked, “Sir, how many people live
in this house?” My brother replied, “My mother, wife and children.” The
Major asked again, “Anybody else?” My younger brother Masud Sadique,”
replied my brother, carefully avoiding my nickname.The Major, however, wanted to
know my nickname, to which my brother said, “Chullu”. I was hearing all this
from an adjoining room. My brother asked me to get up. I came in front of the
army team. The Major said, “Sir, we want to take him to the police station for
an hour. Don’t worry, he’ll be back in’ the morning.
Such a situation was apprehended as we were making preparations for
an operation at Azimpur that very morning. For this I had to go to my house at
Dhanmondi Road No.28. Which was used as a camp of the Guerilla group and arms
and ammunitions were hidden underground. While entering my house, a guard of an
adjacent house informed me that some members of our group were caught by the
army and were brought to that house. Although I could not know who were
arrested, I suspected possible danger. For security reason, members of our group
were careful not to live in the same place, but to divide and live in different
places in separate small groups. We never took permanent shelter. When I told my
brother about the arrests they advised me to go into hiding and thus I decided
to leave the house next morning with all the arms and ammunition. I spent a
restless night. However, before I could leave, the army reached my brother’s
house to arrest me.
My brother asked the guard to open the gate. The Major said
sarcastically, “No need. he (indicating me) is used to jumping over walls.”
I could understand what the officer actually meant. I started to get mentally
prepared to face a tough situation. When I got into the army jeep they blind
folded me and tied my hands. I could not figure out the destination. On the way,
the jeep stopped several times. They whispered to each other.
I was still in the jeep, when they surrounded the house of Major
Dalim to arrest his brother Swapan, who was able to escape by jumping from the
roof. After about half an hour, the vehicle finally reached its destination (I
came to know later that it was the Nakhalpara M.P. Hostel).
They took me to a small dark room measuring about 10 feet by 10
feet. When I entered the room, Colonel Hejaji of field intelligence unit asked
rudely “What is your name?” I replied. Then he shouted in Urdu “Musalmanka
bachcha, musalmanko marta hai? (Being a Moslem you are killing Moslems) You have
killed my brother.” He kicked me on the face. My teeth broke with the spikes
of his boot. Then he asked in English, “How many Pakistanis have you killed so
far? How many operations have you conducted?” I replied “I don’t
understand what you’re saying.” The Colonel said “You will understand in a
few moments” and ordered Havildar Shafin Gul to hang me up. He hung me from
the hook of the ceiling fan. Then the Colonel himself started beating me up.
After his turn, Havildar Shafin Gul and three others took charge.
Shafin Gul was the most notorious person among the Pakistan army
contingent camped at the M.P. Hostel. He continued interrogation while torturing
me. He asked, “Where are the arms?” Groaning in pain, I replied, “I
don’t know.” As I repeatedly denied their allegations, they increased the
level of torture and at one stage I fell unconscious. I can not recall how long
I remained unconscious, but I do remember somebody bringing me down and
projecting a search light towards my face. Suddenly I heard the sound of a
window opening. Hejaji came and asked a man beyond the fence “Is this Chullu?”
I heard the reply, “Ha, yeto Chullu hai” (Yes, this is Chullu). Hejaji said,
“Well, you’re the commander of Dhaka city? You couldn’t recognise them,
but they recognised you. Now tell me where are the arms?” As I refused to
disclose, Hejaji shouted in anger and ordered his men to torture me again.
They hung me up again and beat me up mercilessly. I fell
unconscious again. On the afternoon of March 30, I regained conciousness. I
realised that my white shirt and black pants had become blood stained. I tried
to open my eyes, but could not. I could not make out whether I was alive or
dead. I could not move my legs as they felt heavy like stones. I failed to raise
my head too. I was thirsty, but I was not given a single drop of water. I felt
pain in my hands also. The army men thought me to be dead. One of them told
somebody to bring down my ‘dead body’. When they brought me down, I heard
the azan of magreb prayer. I saw all the soldiers offering their prayers on the
balcony. A few moments later, they returned and realised that I was alive. They
again hung me with clamps attached to the wall. I heard them asking the same
question, “Tell us, where are the arms?” “I don’t know”, I replied.
Shafin Gul punched my belly with full strength and started beating me with a
cane. Then four soldiers began to torture me pressing my body to the wall with
bamboo sticks and iron rods. Before falling unconsious, I said, “Stop
torturing me ... I’ll tell you everything.”
However, when they released me, I refused to tell them anything.
They started torturing me in the same manner and I fell unconscious again.
Before falling unconscious, I gave them the addresses of some houses where we
used to keep arms previously. They conducted raids on those houses, but failed
to recover any arms. I never told them the real address, because we kept arms at
my brother’s official house. If I told them that address, they would have
killed my brother and other members of my family. The next morning, I locked
myself inside a bathroom. I was feeling severe pain in my leg. My skin had
became mutilated due to torture. They once again brought me to Colonel Hejaji
for interrogation. Then the same story of interrogation and torture continued. I
did not disclose anything. They handed over me to Shafin Gul and Capt. Sajjad
again. He ordered to torture me more severely. Shafin Gul took me to a 10 feet
by 10 feet room. Several soldiers sat on my body and pressed me down so
strongly, that I felt as if all the internal parts of my body were coming out.
After some time, they clamped me to the window of the torture cell. All
arrangements of torture were ready in the cell. There were many clamps on the
windows, walls and ceiling of the room. Light could barely enter into the cell
as there was a high wall outside the window.
During the torture session, they used to press burning cigarettes
on my throat and I screamed in pain. From my throat to knees, they carried out
the same method of torture. Once they pressed a burning cigarette into my
rectum. I lost all sense due to the acute pain. I can not recall how long I
remained unconscious. I could not make out whether I was alive or dead or on the
borderline between life and death. When I regained my senses, I found myself in
a dying condition. They tried to collect information from me by inserting ice
into my rectum. They applied new methods of torture everyday. After the first
5/6 days of torture, I could not open my eyes. But I could hear a little. Once I
saw the father of a freedom fighter, Ashfaq. The army brought that innocent man
to the torture cell. He was astonished to see me there and said, “Don’t tell
them anything ... if you tell, they’ll get the arms and our struggle will
remain incomplete. You know, you’ll have to die one day”. I said, “Uncle,
I didn’t tell them anything so far. But I can’t bear the torture anymore.”
When I recall those days, I still feel pain. I don’t know how I
withstood the torture. I did not tell them about our arms and ammunitions only
for the safety of my Brother and others. It became a routine for them to torture
me, hanging me with clamps against the wall of the torture cell. During
interrogation, a Captain of the Pak Army asked me, “I’ll release you, if you
tell me where you have kept the arms.” I realised, he was bluffing. So I did
not tell him anything. They brought me down from hanging position. I lay in the
small dark room alone. I could not see who were being tortured beside me. I only
could hear them screaming.
During the first few days, I couldn’t distinguish between day and
night. They used to bring me to the torture cell at dawn and take me back to
Ramna police station late in the night. As they failed to unleash any
information from me by torture for a week, they brought freedom fighter Badiul
Alam in front of me and said, “Bodi told us that you have some arms.” Due to
the torture by the Pakistan army, Bodi’s face had became deformed and it was
difficult to recognise him. I realised that he might have said something to save
his life. The soldiers tied Badi and me with chains in the corridor. Then he
described the story of his arrest and torture. Due to pain, he could not speak
clearly. He told me that he would try to escape from the torture cell. ‘I must
take revenge” and “I am ready to die for that.” I was surprised to hear of
his plan considering his physical condition. He even advised me to flee, but at
that time, I did not have sufficient strength to run. My knees were broken due
to torture and I could not even stand or walk. I used to crawl on the floor.
Badi did not forget his plan. One morning when the soldiers were taking him to
another room, Badi attacked a soldier. He snatched the sepoy’s stengun and
started running. I tried to get up but failed. The soldiers caught us and
started to physically abuse us. Badi’s nose and mouth started bleeding. We
fell unconscious. Two days later, the army took away Badi somewhere else. After
that I never saw Badi. To punish me for trying to flee from the torture cell,
they tied my hands and legs and kept me there alone. I could not make out
whether it was day or night, whether I was dead or alive. The soldiers used to
give me water in a container and bad smelling food.
From September 10 or 11, they started threatening me that I would
be hanged if I did not tell them about the arms and the guerrillas. I was
awaiting death. My face by then, was disfigured due to their torture. Everyday,
soldiers used to inform us about the fate of freedom fighters they had already
killed. They wanted to threaten and make me frightened. They used to say,
“Your trial will begin soon.”
My elder brother A.S.H.K. Sadique, having obtained permission from
higher authorities, came to the M.P. Hostel to meet me. He was shocked to see my
condition. My face was distorted, my gums were protruded, and eyes were almost
shut. I could not see clearly. My brother told me that the army also took him
for interrogation. They interrogated him for several hours and wanted to know
the whereabouts of arms and guerrillas. They told my brother, “You must know
something. Some young men used to come and stay at your house every night.” As
my brother was a CSP officer, his colleagues protested the army interrogation.
They lodged a complaint to the central government that the army was compelling
the CSP members to be aggrieved.
In mid-September, I was shifted to Ramna police station from
Sher-E-Bangla Nagar M.P. Hostel. A professor of the English department of Dhaka
University, Ahsanul Haq and one Abdus Samad were with me. The army used to take
us to the M.P. Hostel interrogation cell everyday. After about a month and a
half, we were taken to Dhaka Central Jail. For the first few days, we were
confined in the condemned cell usually kept for the convicts of capital
punishment. A few days later, I was shifted to another cell in front of the
condemned cell. Up to the time I was brought to the central jail, I had only one
set of dress which had became rough as my blood, urine and stool had dried on
it. The whole body had marks caused by burning cigarettes. The jail authorities
gave me the clothes used by other prisoners. Fortunately, they did not torture
me in jail. During the stay in jail, everyday I heard the screaming of other
prisoners. I heard the news of killing of freedom fighters from the army sepoys,
prisoners and jail police. Jail Super Shamsur Rahman was sympathetic towards me.
One day some soldiers came to my cell and forced me to sign on a
piece of blank paper. By November 7/8, they finalised a charge-sheet against me.
The allegations were: leading a guerrilla group, possessing and supplying
unauthorised arms, carrying out bomb attacks, killing civil and military
Pakistani citizens and so on.
One morning, a soldier informed me that two prisoners would be
hanged on that day in the ground in front of my cell. Both the victims were
employees of PIA (Pakistan International Airlines) who were arrested in April
for killing a Pak militia at Gulistan in Dhaka city. The entire arrangement for
the hanging were made in front of me. I witnessed it from my cell through the
grill of the ventilator. Both the convicts roared like lions when they were
hanged. Everyday we used to get news about mock trials and execution of freedom
fighters. My trial began on November 22 or 23. At that time I was waiting in my
small dark cell for the verdict. The date of verdict shifted several times.
During the trial, my brother came to meet me.
It was the month of December. The Indian army joined the freedom
fighters in the war against Pakistan army. At this stage, my trial was
postponed. I heard that I would be shot after being taken to the cantonment.
After December 3, every day, I heard news of victory of the freedom fighters and
Indian army over the Pakistan occupation army. I started dreaming of survival
once again. Other members of our guerrilla group ‘crack platoon’ did not
know whether I was alive or dead.
On the morning of December 17, Alam, Zia, Maya Fateh Ali and
other members of ‘crack platoon’ came to take me out of jail. They were
shooting blank shots. The Jail Super informed them that he can not release me
without a government order. As the guerrillas became enraged, the Jail Super
released me. I was overwhelmed to see thousands of people fervently awaiting in
front of the jail to receive us. Amongst them were apprehensive eyes searching
their relatives. Amidst firing, everybody was cheering to celebrate the glorious
victory.
Interviewed
by Ruhul Motin