Time

"Jai Bangla! Jai Bangla!" From the banks of the great Ganges and the
broad Brahmaputra, from the emerald rice fields and mustard-colored
hills of the countryside, from the countless squares of countless
villages came the cry, "Victory to Bengal! Victory to Bengal!" They
danced on the roofs of buses and marched down city streets singing
their anthem Golden Bengal. They brought the green, red and gold
banner of Bengal and out of secret hiding places to flutter freely
from buildings, while huge pictures of their imprisoned leader, Sheik
Mujibur Rahman, sprang up overnight on trucks, houses, and signposts.
As Indian troops advanced first to Jessore, then to Camilla, then to
the outskirts of the capital of Dacca, small children clambered over
their trucks and Bengalis everywhere cheered and greeted the soldiers
as liberators.

Thus last week, amid a war that still raged on, the new nation of
Bangladesh was born. So far only India and Bhutan have formally
recognized it, but it ranks eighth among the world's 148 nations in
terms of population (78 million), behind China, India, the Soviet
Union, the U.S., Indonesia, Japan and Brazil. Its birth, moreover, may
be followed by grave complications. In West Pakistan, a political
upheaval is a foregone conclusion in the wake of defeat and
dismemberment. In India, the creation of a Bengali state next door to
its own impoverished West Bengal state could very well strengthen the
centrifugal forces that have tugged at the country since independence
in 1947.

The breakaway of Pakistan's eastern wing became a virtual certainty
when the Islamabad government launched air strikes against at least
eight Indian airfields two weeks ago. Responding in force, the Indian
air force managed to wipe out the Pakistani air force in the East
within two days, giving India control of the skies. In the Bay of
Bengal and the Ganges delta region as well, the Indian navy was in
unchallenged command. Its blockade of Chittagong and Chalna harbors
cut off all reinforcements, supplies and chances of evacuation for the
Pakistani forces, who found themselves far outnumbered (80,000 v.
India's 200,000) and trapped in an enclave more than 1,000 miles from
their home bases in the West.

There were even heavier and bloodier battles, including tank clashes
on the Punjabi plain and in the deserts to the south, along the
1,400-mile border between India and the western wing of Pakistan,
where the two armies have deployed about 250,000 men. Civilians were
fleeing from the border areas, and residents of Karachi, Rawalpindi
and Islamabad were in a virtual state of siege and panic over day and
night harassment raids by buzzing Indian planes.

The U.N. did its best to stop the war, but its best was not nearly
good enough. After three days of procedural wrangles and futile
resolutions, the Security Council gave up: stymied by the Soviet
nyets, the council passed the buck to the even wordier and less
effectual General Assembly. There, a resolution calling for a
cease-fire and withdrawal of Indian and Pakistan forces behind their
own borders swiftly passed by an overwhelming vote of 104 to 11.

The Pakistanis, with their armies in retreat, said they would honor
the ceasefire provided India did. The Indians, with victory in view,
said they "were considering" the ceasefire, which meant they would
stall until they had achieved their objective of dismembering
Pakistan. There was nothing the assembly could do to enforce its will.
There was considerable irony in India's reluctance to obey the U.N.
resolution in view of New Delhi's irritating penchant in the past for
lecturing other nations on their moral duty to do the bidding of the
world organization. Similarly the Soviet Union, which is encouraging
India in its defiance, has never hesitated to lecture Israel on its
obligation to heed U.N. resolutions calling for withdrawal from Arab
territories.

HOPELESS TASK

In any case, a cease-fire is not now likely to alter the military
situation in the East. As Indian infantrymen advanced to within 25
miles of Dacca late last week and as reports circulated that 5,000
Indian paratroopers were landing on the edges of the beleaguered
eastern capital, thousands fled for fear that the Pakistani army might
decide to take a pitched stand. Daily, and often hourly, Indian planes
strafed airports in Dacca, Karachi and Islamabad. Some 300 children
were said to have died in a Dacca orphanage when a piston-engine plane
dropped three 750-lb bombs on the Rahmat-e-Alam Islamic Mission near
the airport while 400 children slept inside. [Pakistan claimed the
plane was India's. Some Bengalis and foreign observers believed it was
Pakistani, but other observers pointed out that the only forces known
to be flying piston-engined aircraft were the Mukti Bahini, the
Bengali liberation forces.] Earlier in the week, two large bombs fell
on workers' shanties near a jute mill in nearby Narayanganj, killing
275 people.

Forty workers died and more than 100 others were injured when they
were caught by air strikes as they attempted to repair huge bomb
craters in the Dacca airport runway. India declared a temporary
moratorium on air strikes late last week so that the runway could be
repaired and 400 U.N. relief personnel and other foreigners could be
flown out. It was repaired, but the Pakistanis changed their mind and
refused to allow the U.N.'s evacuation aircraft to land at Dacca,
leaving U.N. personnel trapped as potential hostages. The
International Red Cross declared Dacca's Intercontinental Hotel and
nearby Holy Family Hospital "neutral zones" to receive wounded and
provided a haven for foreigners.

For its part, the Pakistani army was said to have killed some Bengalis
who they believed informed or aided the Indian forces. But the
reprisals apparently were not on a wide scale. Both civilian and
military casualties were considered relatively light in East Bengal,
largely because the Indian army skirted big cities and populated areas
in an effort to avoid standoff battles with the retreating Pakistani
troops.

The first major city to fall was Jessore. TIME's William Stewart, who
rode into the key railroad junction with the Indian troops, cabled:
"Jessore, India's first strategic prize, fell as easily as a mango
ripened by a long Bengal summer. It shown no damage from fighting. In
face, the Pakistani 9th Division headquarters had quite Jessore days
before the Indian advance, and only four battalions were left to face
the onslaught.

"Nevertheless, two Pakistani battalions slipped away, while the other
two were badly cut up. The Indian army was everywhere wildly cheered
by the Bengalis, who shouted: "Jai Bangla!" and "Indira Gandhi
Zindabad! (Long live Indira Gandhi!)" In Jhingergacha, a
half-deserted city of about 5,000 near by, people gather to tell of
their ordeal. "The Pakistanis shot us when we didn't understand," said
one old man. "But they spoke Urdu and we speak Bengali."

DEATH AWAITS

By no means all of East Bengal was freed of Pakistani rule last week.
Pakistani troops were said to be retreating to two rivers ports,
Narayanganj and Barisal, where it was speculated they might make a
stand or alternatively seek some route of escape. They were also
putting up a small defence in battalion-plus strength in three
garrison towns where Indian forces reportedly had encircled them. The
Indians have yet to capture the major cities of Chittagong and
Dinajpur. Neither army permitted newsmen unreserved access to the
contested areas, but on several occasions the Indian military did
allow reporters to accompany its forces. The three prolonged Indian
pincer movement, however, moved much more rapidly than was earlier
believed possible. Its success was largely attributed to decisive air
and naval support.

Demoralized and in disarray, the Pakistani troops were urged to obey
the "soldier-to-soldier" radio call to surrender, repeatedly broadcast
by Indian army Chief of Staff General Sam Manekshaw, "Should you not
heed my advice to surrender to my army and endeavour to escape," he
warned , "I assure you certain death awaits you." He also assured the
Pakistanis that if they surrendered they would be treated as prisoners
of war according to the Geneva convention. To insure that the Mukti
Bahini would also adhere to the Geneva code, India officially put the
liberation forces under its military command.

Pakistani prisoners were reported surrendering in fair numbers. But
many others seems to be fleeing into the countryside, perhaps in hopes
of finding escape routes disguised as civilians. "In some garrison
towns stout resistance is being offered, " said an Indian spokesman, "
and although the troops themselves wish to surrender, they are being
instructed by generals: `Gain time, Something big may happen. Hold
on.' " He added sarcastically that only big thing that could happen
was that the commanders of the military regime in East Pakistan might
pull a vanishing act.

All week long, meanwhile, the Pakistani regime kept up a running
drumfire about Pakistan's Jihad, or holy war, with India. An army
colonel insisted there were no Pakistani losses whatsoever on the
battlefield. His reasoning: "In pursuit of Jihad, nobody dies, He
lives forever." Pakistani radio and television blared forth patriotic
songs such as All of Pakistan Is Wide Awake and The Martyr's Blood
Will Not Go Wasted. The propaganda was accompanied by a totally
unrealistic picture of the war. At one point, government spokesmen
claimed that Pakistan had knocked out 123 Indian aircraft to a loss of
seven of their own, a most unlikely kill ratio of nearly 18-to-1.
Islamabad insisted that Pakistani forces were still holding on to the
city of Jesore even though newsmen rode into the city only hours after
its liberation

Late last week, however, President Aga Mohammed Yahya Khan's
government appeared to be getting ready to prepare its people for the
truth: the east is lost. An official spokesmen admitted for the first
time that the Pakistani air forces was no longer operating in the
East, Pakistani forces were "handicapped in the face of a superior
army war machine," he said, and were out numbered six to one by the
Indians in terms of men and material -- a superiority that seems
slightly exaggerated.

SIKHS AND GURKHAS

As the fate of Bangladesh, and of Pakistan itself, was being decided
in the East, Indian and Pakistani forces were making painful stabs at
one another along the 1,400-mile border that reaches from the icy
heights of Kashmir through the flat plains of Punjab down to the
desert of western India. There the battle was waged by the bearded
Sikhs wearing khaki turbans, tough, flat-faced Gurkhas, who carry a
curved knife known as a kukri in their belts, and many other ethnic
strains. Mostly, the action was confined to border thrusts by both
sides to straighten out salients that are difficult to defend.

The battle have pitted planes, tanks, artillery against each other,
and in fact both material losses and casualties appear to have run far
higher than in the east. Most of the sites were the very places where
the two armies slugged it out in their last war in 1965. Yet there
were no all-out offensives. The Indian army's tactic was to maintain a
defensive posture, launching no attacks except where they assisted its
defences.

OLD BOY ATTITUDE

The bloodiest action was at Chhamb, a flat plateau about six miles
from the cease-fire line that since 1949 has divided the disputed
Kashmir region almost equally between Pakistan and India. The Pakistani
were putting up "a most determined attack," according to an Indian
Spokesman, who admitted that Indian casualties had been heavy. But he
added that Pakistani casualties were heavier. The Pakistanis' aim was
to strike for the Indian city of Jammu and the 200-mile-long
Jammu-Srinagar highway, which links India with the Vale of Kashmir.
The Indians were forced to retreat from the west bank of the Munnawar
Tawi River, where they had tried desperately to hold on.

Except for Chhumb and other isolated battles, both sides seemed to be
going about the war with an "old boy" attitude: "If you don't really
hit my important bases, I won't bomb yours." Behind all this,
of course, is the fact that many Indian and Pakistani officers,
including the two countries' commanding generals, went ti school with
one another at Sandhurst or DehraDun. India's commanding general in
the east, Lieut. General Jagjit Singh Aurora, was a classmate of
Pakistani President Yahya, "We went to school together to learn how
best to kill each other," said an Indian officer.

"To an outsider," TIME's Marsh Clark cabled after a tour of the
western front, "the Indian army seemed precise, old-fashioned and
sane. `The closer you get to the front, the more tea and cookies you
get,' one American correspondent complained. But things get done.
Convoys move up rapidly, artillery officers direct their fire with
dispatch. Morale is extremely high, and Indian officers always refer to
the Pakistanis, though rather condescendingly, as `those chaps.' "

ABANDONED BRITCHES

On a visit to Sehjra, a key town in a Pakistani salient that pokes
into Indian territory east of Lahore where Indian troops are advancing,
Clark found turbaned men working in the fields while jets flew
overhead and artillery sounded in the distance. "There are free tea
stalls along the road," he reported, "and teen-agers throw bags of
nuts, plus oranges and bananas into the Jeeps carrying troops to the
front, and shout encouragement. When our Jeep stops, kids surround it
and yell at us, demanding that we write a story saying their village
is still free and not captured, as claimed by Pakistani radio.

"As we come up on the border, the Indian commander receives us. He
recounts how his Gurkha soldiers kicked of the operations at 9 o'clock
at night and hit the well-entrenched Pakistanis at midnight. `I think
we took them by surprise,' he says, and an inspection of the hooch of
the Pakistani area commanding officers confirms it. On his bed is a
suitcase, its confusion indicating it was hastily packed. There are
several shirts, some socks. And his trousers. Nice trousers of gray
flannel made, according to the label, by Mr. Abass, a tailor in
Rawalpindi. The colonel, it is clear, has departed town and left his
britches behind."

South of Sehjra, Indian armored units have been plowing through sand
across the West Pakistan border, taking hundreds of square miles of
desert and announcing the advance of their troops to places that
apparently consist of two palm trees and a shallow pool of brackish
water. Among the enemy equipment reported captured: several camels.
The reason behind this rather ridiculous adventure is the fear that
Pakistan will try to seize large tracts of Indian territory to hold as
ransom for the return of East Bengal. That now seems an impossibility
with Bangladesh an independent nation, but India wants to have land in
the west to bargain with.

The western part of India is on full wartime alert. All cities are
completely blacked out at night, fulfilling, as it were, Prime
Minister Indira Gandhi's warning that it would be a "long, dark
December." Air raid sirens wail almost continuously. During one 15-hour
period in the Punjab, there were eleven air-raid alerts. One all-clear
was sounded by the jittery control room before the warning blast was
given. The nervousness, through, was justified: two towns in the area
had been bombed with a large loss of life as Pakistani air force
planes zipped repeatedly across the border. Included in their attack
was the city of Amritsar, whose Golden Temple is the holiest of holies
to all Sikhs. At Agra, which was bombed the the Pakistanis' first
blitz, the Taj Mahal was camouflaged with a forest of twigs and
leaves and draped with burlap because its marble glowed like a white
beacon in the moonlight.

The fact that India is not launching any major offensives in the
western sector suggests that New Delhi wants to keep the war as
uncomplicated as possible. Though the two nations have tangled twice
before in what is officially called the state of Jammu and Kashmir,
neither country has gained any territory since the original cease fire
line was drawn in 1949. There are several reasons why New Delhi is not
likely to try to press now for control of the disputed area.

The first is a doubt that the people of Azad Kashmir, as the Pakistani
portion is called, would welcome control by India; in that case, India
could be confronted with an embarrassing uprising. The second reason is
that in 1963, shortly after India's brief but bloody war with China,
Pakistan worked out a provisional border agreement with Peking ceding
some 1,300 sq. miles of Kashmir to China. Peking has since linked up
the old "silk route" highway from Sinkiang province to the city of
Gilgit in Pakistani Kashmir with an all-weather macadam moto highway
running down to the northern region of Ladakh near the cease-fire
line. Should Indian troops get anywhere near China's highway or try to
grasp its portion of Kashmir, New Delhi could expect to have a hassle
with Peking on its hands.

CONSTANT HARASSMENT

Pakistan, on the other hand, has much to gain if it can wrest the
disputed province, particularly and fabled Vale, from Indian control.
Strategically, the region is extremely important, bordering on both
China and Afganistan as well as India and Pakistan. Moreover,
Kashmir's population is predominantly Moslem.

Still, the war was beginning to take its toll on the people of West
Pakistan. The almost constant air raids over Islamabad, Karachi and
other cities have brought deep apprehension, even panic." TIME's Loius
Kraar cabled from Rawalpindi. "It is not massive bombing, just
constant harassment -- though there have been several hundred civilian
casualties. Thus when the planes roar overhead, life completely halts
in the capital and people scurry into trenches or stand in doorways
with woo[ ]ls over their heads, ostrich-like. Because of the Kashmir
mountains, the radar in the area does not pick up Indian planes until
they are about 15 miles away.

"Pakistanis have taken to caking mud all over their autos in the
belief that it camouflage them from Indian planes. In nightly
blackouts, the road traffic moves along with absolutely no lights, and
fear has prevailed so completely over common sense that there has
probably been more bloodshed in traffic accidents than in the air
raids. The government has begun urging motorists only to shield their
lights, but peasants throw stones at any car that keeps them on. In
this uneasy atmosphere, Pakistani antiaircraft gunners opened up on
their own high-flying sabre jets one evening last week. At one point,
the military stationed an antiaircraft machine gun atop the Rawalpindi
intercontinental Hotel, but guests convinced them it was dangerous."

SOVIET AIRCRAFT

In New Delhi, the mood was not so much jingoism as jubilation that
India's main goal -- the establishment of a government in East Bengal
that would ensure the return of the refugees -- was accomplished so
quickly. There was little surprise when Prime Minister Gandhi
announced to both houses of Parliament early this week that India
would become the first government to recognize Bangladesh. Still,
members thumped their desks, cheered loudly and jumped in the aisles
to express their delight. "The valiant struggles of the people of
Bangladesh in the face of tremendous odds has opened a new chapter of
heroism in the history of freedom movements," Mrs. Gandhi said. "The
whole world is now aware that [Bangladesh] reflects the will of an
overwhelming majority of the people, which not many governments can
claim to represents."

There was little joy in New Delhi, however, over the Nixon
Administration's hasty declaration blaming India for the war in the
subcontinent, or over U.N. Ambassador George Bush's remark that India
was guilty of "aggression" (see: The US: A policy in shambles). Indian
officials were shocked by the General Assembly's unusually swift and
one-sided vote calling for a cease-fire and withdrawal of troops.

CALL FOR ARMAMENTS

Meanwhile, there was still the danger that other nations could get
involved. Pakistan was reported putting pressure on Turkey, itself
inflicted with internal problems, to provide ships, tanks, bazookas,
ans small arms and ammunition. Since Turkey obtains heavy arms from
the U.S., it would be necessary to have American approval to give them
to Pakistan. There was also a report that the Soviet Union was using
Cairo's military airbase Almaza as a refueling stop in flying
reinforcements to India. Some 30 giant Autonov-12 transports, each
capable of carrying two dismantled MIGs or two SAM batteries,
reportedly touched down last week. The airlift was said to have
displeased the Egyptians, who are disturbed over India's role in the
war. For its part, Washington stressed that its SEATO and CENTO
treaties with Pakistan in no way bind it to come to its aid.

If the Bangladesh government was not yet ensconced in the capital of
Dacca by week's end, it did appear that its foundations had been
firmly laid. As Mrs. Gandhi said in her speech to Parliament, the
leaders of the People's Republic of Bangladesh -- as the new nation
will be officially known -- "have proclaimed their basic principles of
state policy to be democracy, socialism, secularism and establishment
of an egalitarian society in which there would be no discrimination on
the basis of race, religion, sex or creed. In regard to foreign
relations, the Bangladesh government have expressed their
determination to follow a policy of non-alignment, peaceful
coexistance and opposition to colonialism, racialism and imperialism."

Bangladesh was born of a dream twice deferred. Twenty-four years ago,
Bengalis voted to join the new nation of Pakistan, which had been
carved out of British India as a Moslem homeland. Before long,
religious unity disintegrated into racial and regional bigotry as the
autocratic Moslems of West Pakistan systematically exploited their
Bengali brethren in the East. One year ago last week, the Bengalis
thronged the polls in Pakistan's first free nationalwide election,
only to see their overwhelming mandate to Mujib brutally reversed by
West Pakistani soldiers. That crackdown terrible toll: perhaps
1,000,000 dead, 10 million refugees, untold thousands homeless,
hungry, and sick.

The memories are still fresh of those who died of cholera on the muddy
paths to India, or suffered unspeakable atrocities at the hands of the
Pakistani military. And there are children, blind and brain-damaged,
who will carry the scars of malnutrition for the rest of their lives.
As a Bangladesh official put it at the opening of the new nation's
first diplomatic mission in New Delhi last week: "It is a dream come
true, but you must also remember that we went through a nightmare."

ECONOMIC PROSPECTS

How stable is the new nation? Economically, Bangladesh has nowhere to
go but up. As Pakistan's eastern wing, it contributed between 50% and
70% of that country's foreign exchange earnings but received only a
small percentage in return. The danger to East Bengal's economy lies
mainly in the fact that it is heavily based on jute and burlap, and
synthetic substitutes are gradually replacing both. But if it can keep
all of its own foreign exchange, as it now will, it should be able to
develop other industries. It will also open up trade with India's West
Bengal, and instead of competing with India, may frame joint marketing
policies with New Delhi. India also intends to help with Bangladesh's
food problems in the next year.

One of the main conditions of India's support is that Bangladesh
organize the expeditious return of the refugees and restore their
lands and belonging to them. The Bangladesh government is also intent
on seeking war reparations from Pakistan if possible.

What of West Pakistan? The loss of East Pakistan will no doubt be a
tremendous blow to its spirit and a destablizing factor in politics.
But the Islamabad regime, shorn of a region that was politically,
logistically and militarily difficult to manage and stripped down to a
population of 58 million, may prove a much more homogeneous unit. In
that sense, the breakup could prove to be a blessing in disguise. Both
nations, moreover, might be expected to get considerable foreign aid to
help them back onto their feet.

LEADERSHIP VACUUM

Last week Yahya announced the appointment of a 77-year old Bengali
named Nurul Amin as the Prime Minister-designate for a future civilian
government, to which he has promised to turn over some of his military
regime's power. Amin figured in last December's elections, which
precipitated the whole tragedy. In those elections Mujib's Awami
League won 167 of the 169 Assembly seats at stake; Amin, an
independent who enjoyed prestige as an elder statesman, won one of the
two others. But he is essentially a figure head, and former Foreign
Minister Zulfikar Ali Bhutto was appointed his deputy, which means
that he will have the lion's share of the power. That may come sooner
than expected. There were reports last week that Yahya's fall from
power may be imminent. Bhutto is a contentious, pro-Chinese politician
who was instrumental in persuading Yahya in effect to set aside the
results of the election and to keep Mujib from becoming Prime Minister
of Pakistan.

Bangladesh's main difficulty is apt to come from a leadership vacuum
should Yahya refuse to release Mujib, the spellbinding leader who has
led the fight for Bengali civil liberties since partition. All of the
Awami Leaguers who formed provisional government of Bangladesh in
exile last April are old colleagues of Mujib's and have grown
accustomed to handling responsibilities since he went to prison. But
running a volatile war-weakened new nation is considerably more
difficult than managing a political party. The trouble is that none of
them have the tremendous charisma that attracted million-strong
throngs to hear Mujib. The top leaders, all of whom won seats in the
aborted National Assembly last December by over whelming margins, are:

+ Syed Nazrul Islam, 46, acting President in the absence of
Mujib, a lawyer who frequently served as the Sheik's deputy
in the past. He was active in the struggle against former
President Ayub Khan, and when Mujib was thrown in jail, he
led party through crises.

+ Tajuddin Ahmed, 46, Prime Minister, a lawyer who has been a
cheif organizer in the Awami League since its founding in
1949. He is an expert in economies and is considered one of
the party's leading intellectuals.

+ Khandakar Moshtaque Ahamed, 53, Foreign Minister, a lawyer
who was active in the Indian independence movement and helped
found the Awami League.

The most immediate problem is to prevent a bloodbath in Bangladesh
against non-Bengalis accused of collaborating with the Pakistani
military. Toward this end, East Bengal government officials who chose
to remain in Bangladesh through the fighting are being inducted into
the new administration and taking over as soon as areas are liberated.
Actually, India's recognition came earlier than planned. One reason
was to circumvent a charge reportedly budding in the U.N that India
had joined the battle to annex the province to India. Another was to
enable Bangladesh government to assume charge as soon as large chunks
of territory was liberated by the army. Since New Delhi does not want
to be accused of having exchanged West Pakistani colonialism for India
colonialism, it is expected to to lean over backward to let the
Bangladesh government do things its way.

THE WALK BACK

Is there any chance that the Pakistanis may yet engineer a startling
turn of the tide, rout the Indians from the East and destroy the new
nation in its infancy? Virtually none. As Correspondent Clark cabled:
"Touts who are betting on the outcome between India and Pakistan might
ponder the fact that two of the TIME correspondents who were visiting
Pakistan this week [Clark in the West, Stewart deep in the East] were
with Indian forces."

And so at week's end the streams of refugees who walked so long and so
far to get to India began making the long journey back home to pick up
the thread of their lives. For some, there were happy reunions with
relatives and friends, for other tears and the bitter sense of loss
for those who will never return. But there were new homes to be built,
and a new nation to be formed. The land was there too, lush and green.

"Man's history is waiting in patience for the triumph of the insulted
man," Rabindranath Tagore, the Nobel-prizewinning Bengali Poet, once
wrote. Triumph he had, but at a terrible price. With the subcontinent
at war, and the newborn land still wracked by bone-shattering poverty,
the joy in Bangladesh was necessarily tempered by sorrow.