Pravda

I RECENTLY visited one of the camps near Calcutta set up for the East Pakistani refugees. Out of 888 such camps nearly 560 have been set up in West Bengal alone. More than 7 million refugees have crossed over to the territory of this state since March. The Dum Dum airfield is situated near the camp I visited, beyond a small palm grove. From time to time, planes take off from there, shaking the thin walls and rattling the roofs of tens of thousands of hovels and barracks in this giant camp. Endless rows of barbed-wire entanglements have become the temporary "walls" and boundaries of the various sections of the camp. The refugees are sheltered in barracks which are covered with palm leaves, in ordinary army tents, in low huts (a person cannot stand straight in them), and even in primitive shelters built of sticks driven into the ground with pieces of oilcloth stretched over them. And the people move about in a constant stream everywhere in these incredibly penned-up grounds.
I started a conversation with some refugees in front of one of the barracks where additional bowls of rice gruel were being issued to emaciated and weak children. The refugees described their difficult journey to India. This journey frequently dragged on for two or three weeks. A former college student from Khulna told me that he was among the 7,000 people who moved together to the borders of India. It took them four days and nights to cover this distance. More than 20 of his companions died on the way and several others had to be admitted to the camp hospital—the ordeal had proved too much for them.
"Would you like to return to your native places," I put this question to many refugees, whose reply was more or less the same:
"Yes, if we're absolutely sure that we will not be subjected to repression again, and our lives and freedom will not be endangered." The barracks housing the camp hospital are a gruesome sight. The sharp odour of carbolic acidis mixed with smoke and the stench of sewage. Children and their mothers—bare skin and bone—lie on bamboo beds.
As we continued our inspection the nurse told me: "We're in the barrack for patients suffering from infectious diseases of the bowels and stomach, mainly dysentry, which is enemy number one today. So far we have failed to control the epidemic."
I observed the same situation in other refugee camps in West Bengal. It was, indeed, a gloomy sight. The number of victims would have been far greater but for India's generous aid to these millions of homeless people.
These selfless efforts have borne fruit. The setting up, during a period of only seven months, of nearly 900 camps with organised medical service and continuous and free supply of the necessities of life to millions of sufferers, from food to clothing and medicines, is a truly remarkable achievement.
It was not at all easy to successfully combat the cholera epidemic, which had spread with catastrophic speed. Back in Calcutta, I had been told that by the beginning of June there were nearly 50,000 people in the medical barracks set up for refugees suffering from cholera. Though some 6,000 patients died, the battle was won by mid-summer.
Such a complicated problem as averting a mass famine was solved in a very short period of time. I inspected a number of refugee camps and observed everywhere that they were receiving the food,
clothing and medicines they needed. The officers in charge of the biggest camp, called the Salt Lake Camp, told me that every refugee was daily given 400 grams of rice as well as other food.
The reason why I have reminded the reader of all this is that some Western journalists and politicians are exaggerating the plight, tragic as it is, of the East Pakistani refugees in their unscrupulous attempt to put the blame at someone else's door, to blame India—a country which extended the generous hand of assistance to millions of East Pakistanis during their troubled time—for all the sufferings of the refugees.
The people of India are well aware of the principled and consistent stand taken by the Soviet Union. They welcome the Soviet people's condemnation of the military occupation regime in East Pakistan and their demand that the refugees should be given the possibility of returning to their homes.
Gratitude for rice and medicines sent from the Soviet Union was expressed to us during our conversations at the Salt Lake and Bangaon camps and in Calcutta with the leaders of organisations in charge of relief for the refugees.
Those engaged in relief work are fully aware of the incredible difficulties involved in looking after 9 million refugees. One of them is B. K. Singh, Assistant Secretary in the Ministry of Labour, Employment and Rehabilitation of the Central Government, currently looking after the refugees. He said that if the influx of refugees did not stop, their number would rise to 12-13 million by next January. Moreover, he added, we do not know how long we shall have to deal with the refugee problem. India is not in a position to assume full responsibility for the population of a whole country which has crossed over to us in seven months' time.
...I have just come back from the border areas of West Bengal. Rows of hovels of East Pakistani refugees who have not yet been settled in camps stretch almost endlessly along the narrow 90-km strip of waterlogged fields. The road from Calcutta to Bangaon runs through this territory.
There are thousands upon thousands of hovels here; nobody can tell their exact number. Near these pitiful shelters, huddling close to the roadway, children play and cattle graze. The town of Bangaon is overcrowded with people: its population was less than 100,000 prior to March, now it is four times that number. There are long lines of refugees queuing up for rice; smoke curls up from camp-fires; there is dirt everywhere, and floodwaters have not yet drained away from the yards.
On the way back, we again saw the continuous rows of miserable-looking hovels on either side of the road, and people endlessly shuffling along this road.
(Pravda, October 24, 1971)