পাতা:বাংলাদেশের স্বাধীনতা যুদ্ধ দলিলপত্র (চতুর্দশ খণ্ড).pdf/৩৬৭

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বাংলাদেশের স্বাধীনতা যুদ্ধ দলিলপত্র : চতুর্দশ খণ্ড
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 শিরোনাম  সূত্র   তারিখ
১৩৯। একটি সাহায্যের আবেদন গার্ডিয়ান ৪ এপ্রিল, ১৯৭১

THE GUARDIAN WEEKLY, APRIL 4, 1971
A CRY FOR HELP
By Martin Woollacott

 The, situation in Bangladesh is worsening day by day, and it is a pathetic and heartrending spectacle, for there is hardly a liberation movement of the twentiethcentury that can claim such unanimous support from people of all classes, nor one that was ever so ill-prepared and ill-equipped to fight for its rights.

 After a 200-mile journey into East Bengal, reaching to Faridpur on the banks of the Ganges, some 90 miles from the Indian border, the main impression is of a people who with every justification but sadly with limited chances of success, are crying out for international help before it is too late. And that, at least as far as the short-term prospects of the liberation movement are concerned, could be very soon indeed.

 The Pakistani Army, estimated at strength of over five divisions, is now moving swiftly to take the towns held by the Bangladesh forces before the rainy season begins, and it will probably succeed in doing so

 Everywhere I went in Bangladesh during a three-day trip, I heard the same appeal-in the squares of the towns, in the offices of administrators, in barracks, in roadside pharmacies and shops; “Why doesn't the world help us?”

 In Magura, between Jessore and Faridpur, a middle-aged lawyer, Mr. Nasir-ulIslam, who has become effective chief civil administrator, insisted on writing out a lengthy “appeal to the freedom loving humanity" in fine copperplate hand, which began “we appeal to humanity to come to our help in this period of greatest calamity when we, the entire nation of Bangladesh are forced to take up arms against the occupation army of the Punjabis who are up to anything to destroy the last point of civilization."

 Watched by a crowd of several hundred people, and feeling something of a charlatan, I placed this ceremoniously in my bag.

 One soon forgets one's initial amusement at the flowery Indian English of educated Bengalis when one sees the tragic situation they are in. Crossing the bridge outside Magura we meet a marching column of young men in civilian clothes, armed with 303 rifles. They halt, visibly swelling with pride, their backs stiffened in the approved British military fashion, and their sandalled feet hitting the ground in a manoeuvre designed for soldiers wearing heavy boots, so that the Danish journalist with me can take a photograph.

 At least at Magura they have enough rifles for a half company or so. Further on at one river crossing town, the former Pakistani airman in charge of defences tells me that they have four Lee Enfield rifles and two dummy rifles.