Le Soleil (Dakar) Senegal

India is at present screening the most dreadful drama of her history. 50,000 refugees are daily crossing into its border. There are more than 8 million in Bengal. The Government is spending 20 million rupees daily to feed them. A drop of water in the ocean of their misery. This is the tragedy of the civil war in East Pakistan. The state of Bangla Desh was born on ,26th March, 1971 at least in the spirit of the militant Bengali separatists of the Awami League of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. East Pakistan, they explained, is separated from West Pakistan by more than 1500 kilometer of Indian territory. The language spoken in one part of Pakistan is different from the other as are the populations. Even Islam which is our religion is different from that of West Pakistan. Under these conditions how can there be a cultural unity which could justify a united single Nation?

The worst thing, they add, is that West Pakistan has been exploiting us like a colony instead of treating us as part of the Nation. In administration, army, police, all posts of responsibility have been reserved for the people of West Pakistan. The banks, insurance companys, industry and trade are all controlled by them. This led to an impossible colonisation. The things had become worse till the general elections were held in Pakistan in which the Awami League of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman emerged successful. With a total of 169 members out of 300 members of the future Assembly it obtained a simple majority but sufficient enough to reclaim for Sheikh Mu jib and for his party the substantial responsibilities in the conduct of government affairs and in the legal structure.

Was General Yahya Khan prepared, as he had earlier promised, for elaboration of a Constitution and maximum autonomy for East Pakistan? It does not seem so since his armed intervention on 25th March, 1971 gave a signal for a bloody repression, arrest of irredentist Bengalis, exodus and finally as most of the observers feel, to the civil war which now rages in Dacca.

Twenty thousand guerrillas scattered all over East Pakistan should be able to obtain independence by force against 70,000 soldiers equipped with modern arms of the army of Yahya Khan. The issue of combat should not give any doubt but the wars of resistance and national liberation cannot be subject to the same criteria and same norms as of classical wars of major states. At the moment this is the exodus into the neighbourly India which has abruptly precipitated a tragedy that could conflagrate the situation.

Calcutta is perhaps the most picturesque as well as difficult city in the world. A jewel of the ex-British empire of India, it now suffers under the burden of human misery and confusion. Her drama started in 1912 when the authorities decided to deprive her of the envied title of the capital of Indian empire by shifting it to Delhi, situated about 1500 kilometers in the North-West. The partition in 1947, resulting in the division of Bengal of which Calcutta was the commercial and industrial city and the largest port of communication with outside world* inflicted a second blow on her from which it will never recover. The jute, which was the source of her prosperity and which came from rich plantations of East Pakistan, no more feeds the factories of Calcutta. The port itself, which used to be an active place, is now in distress. Today Calcutta, with its 8 million population, is no more than its own shadow. Filthy and over-populated, Calcutta has now a misery which continues to increase due to incessant flow of refugees. Bicycles, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, shabby vehicles, flood its streets on which one finds imperturbed cows, always sacred in the eternal India.

Thousands of small businessmen are now settled on narrow footpaths. Small and filthy shops, destitute families are seen occupying houses which are no better than wooden frames, the traffic is impossible and disorderly and multitudes of unemployed persons always ready for adventures is the picture of Calcutta at this moment when India is undergoing perhaps the most gloomy time of her history. The guide, who came to escort me from Oberoi Hotel, one of the latest palaces of the past, informed me that our journey was long and hard. He was going to take me for a bath of refugees (bain de refugies).

Calcutta due to her geographical situation with East Pakistan and being an old capital of Bengal, is the city to which rushed all those who fled from civil war of East Pakistan, Some kilometers from the city, on a plain soil of many hectars, lies the human misery which I was able to see. Accumulated, Pell-mell in the refugee camps, were 200,000 persons who had escaped from the terror and have now during a few weeks created a new city in the neighbourhood of Calcutta. A suffocating smell and filth all around obsessed me. The children in clusters were lying under the sun in front of their tents. They looked dull and sometime bewildered. The smiles seemed to have deserted their faces, howsoever sweet they were. At a distance from them were their parents, including women and aged persons, clothed in rags of faded colours, who were rushing to form a queue for their food ration which was being distributed with parsimony. There was milk, semolina and dry-vegetables but food shortage was obvious. The Indian administration, assisted by international organisations, is trying with all means at her disposal to meet the situation which unfortunately is deteriorating every day. In Calcutta itself there are two camps of refugees, each of about 200,000 persons. Twenty other camps are scattered all over Bengal. A camp for administration purpose and for distribution of food is divided in zones. In each zone there is a centre of distribution of food and vaccinations. The relief is being provided by UNICEF, FAO, U.N. High Commission for Refugees, International Red Cross, W.H.O. and other private humanitarian organisations. But still this does not suffice. On 15th August, 1971 the number of refugees became upto 8 million and accord-ing to specialists it continued to increase at the rate of 50,000 refugees per day. The Indian Government is spending 20 million rupees per day to meet the situation and is looking forward for international help in face of such a misery.

_ Bongaon, about 52 miles from Calcutta, is the frontier city which has become the point of entry for refugees. I spent two hours to reach there and another two hours to contact: the misery of a horrible magnitude. The car in which I was travelling was running on a rough but a good road. On both sides of embankment there were immense plantations of rice and jute. ****** the season of monsoon, a terrible rainy season, cool arid persistent which is common in India. Everywhere along the road there was stagnant water and refugees shivering with cold arid disabled bodies of sick and hungry persons. They were taking shelter in feeble huts of bamboo and jute and the monsoon was continuously falling, aggravating their miseries.

These were the refugees who had not yet been taken in charge by the Government as they had just crossed the frontier with their handy baggage on their heads after walking for many days and leaving everything behind. Entry into the Indian territory was a hope for them. The first relief which they receive is the medical assistance. At the post they are given all vaccinations-plague, cholera, and small-pox etc. An official told me that at this stage the Government came to know about the precise number of refugees entering India. They were keeping the record in the medical files. While I was speaking with him a stretcher was brought by two relief workers on which a woman of 20 years was lying still with her eyes without life. Beside her a child of skeleton structure was lying. It was obvious that the mother of this child was ocertainly dying. Nothing was less sure.