DACCA, Pakistan, Dec. 28 —For a week, Abdul Hossain, a tough, wiry unshaven man in a dirty white shirt, has been sitting in the fashionable Dacca Ladies Club building interviewing an endless line of men, most of whom are equally tough and unkempt.

Mr. Hossain is a commander of the Bengali guerrillas known as Mukti Bahini, or Liberation Forces, and his unit has set up an office in the club to try to help the guerrillas find lost friends and relatives.

More than 5,000 applications for help cover Mr. Hossain's desk and the floor around him, and the line of people seeking assistance still starts outside in the garden of the club, where wives of high Pakistani officials once held tea parties.

Sharif Masood is looking for his wife. He has not seen her since March 25, when he was arrested along with. 1,800 other members of the East Bengali Rifles, a Bengali regiment of the Pakistani, Army.

“They kept us in a college dormitory, giving us only bread and tea and occasionally a bit of rice,” Corporal Masood recalled today as he stood in line. “They used to beat us almost every day with their rifle butts and sometimes they hung us upsidedown and beat us.”

Escape Described

One day, Corporal Masood said, the Pakistani soldiers took him and 200 of his comrades to a bridge over a small river and began shooting them one at a time. When his turn came, he said, he jumped into the river “before they realized what was happening.”

After his escape, he returned to his native village, but he found that his house had been burned down and his wife was missing, apparently taken away by Pakistani troops. Corporal Masood knows that when Pakistani troops surrendered, they were often found with Bengali women inside their bunkers.

He then joined the Mukti Bahini and helped in the final military drive on Dacca. But now he is devoting full time to looking for his wife. “My war is not over yet,” he said bitterly.

Standing in the bright sun in the garden, Mohammed Razzak said he was trying to find his brother, who had been a telegraph operator in Jessore, a major city in the western part of East. Pakistan. Pakistani troops arrested the brother in early April and his whereabouts since then has been unknown.

Mr. Razzak, who was in his junior year in college before he joined the guerrillas last spring, rose to be a company commander. He was wounded twice, he said, and he still wears a bandage on his left hand where he was hit by rifle fire.

“I got a ride on a river boat to come to Dacca just after the liberation,” he said. “It took two days to get here but the boat man would not take any money for it,”

“People asked me why I did not carry a rifle if I was a guerrilla,” he went on. “But I said we have beaten the Pakistanis and the war is over—what do I need with a gun now.”

Many guerrillas have continued to carry their rifles, causing concern among some government officials that they might prove a threat to public order. Yesterday the government set up by the secessionist leaders ordered all guerrillas to report to their home bases and deposit their arms in storerooms.

Another man dressed in a checkered lungi, the loose cotton skirt that most Bengali men wear, said he was looking for his brother, who had been taken away by the Mukti Bahini two days after the Pakistani Army surrendered.

“He was a devout Moslem,” the man explained, “and he had a long beard and dirty clothes. The Mukti probably thought he was one of the religious fanatics who supported the Pakistanis. But he was a harmless person with no interest in politics.”