It was like any other day.
On August 14, 1975, the president’s office carried out its routine functions. Officials exchanged pleasantries, ministers held meetings, decisions were taken and instructions were given. Preparations were also under way for Bangladesh’s founding president to visit Dhaka University the next morning.
No one knew it then, but it would be remembered as the last day in office for Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
Amid the bustle, Mujib’s thoughts turned to the failing health of a man he knew. At around 11:00am, he told his assistant private secretary, Shahriar Iqbal, that Ataur Rahman Khan had gone to London for treatment and asked that his daughters be requested to come over.
Shahriar later wrote about the day in his memoir Bangabandhu: Sroddhay Bhabnay Smirite (Bangabandhu: In Reverence, In Thought, In Memory).
When the daughters arrived, Sheikh Mujib received them with affection. He spoke to them not merely as a head of state meeting the family of another public figure, but as someone concerned about their father’s health.
Meanwhile, preparations for the Dhaka University visit were in full swing.
At noon, Mujib called his press secretary, Abdul Toab Khan, and assistant press secretary and speech writer Mahbub Talukder and asked them to prepare a speech for the following day.
“I was a little surprised. Would he deliver a written speech?” Mahbub writes in his memoir Bangabhabane Panch Bachhar (Five Years at Bangabhaban).
Toab Khan asked the question. Mujib clarified that he would speak extempore. “But I have to have all the written data and information at hand.”
Toab instructed Mahbub to collect the necessary information from the education secretary, who was expected to visit later that day, and prepare a draft.
In the evening, as Mujib was leaving Gono Bhaban, then the president’s office, for his residence on Dhanmondi Road 32, Mahbub reminded him of a farewell dinner for Muhammad Farashuddin, the president’s private secretary.
“Yes, I know,” Mujib replied. “That means you have given me leave now.”
He smiled softly and added, “I can’t stay at the dinner.”
Then came another piece of news.
An Indian Air Force helicopter had crashed in Ramgati, killing several Indian soldiers. The accident immediately became diplomatically sensitive.
According to Mahbub, Bangladesh officials disagreed with the Indian embassy over whether the incident should be reported. Indian charge d’affaires JN Dixit said it would not be right to publish the news. Toab Khan felt the decision had to come from the president himself.
He called Mujib.
“Go to my office and call me on the red telephone,” Mujib told him.
Toab did so and returned after a while.
Then another call came from the Indian embassy. Toab said the accident should be reported in newspapers to avoid confusion among the people.
The Indian charge d’affaires said he had spoken to Delhi about the matter.
“We have taken a high-level decision. In this situation, our decision will stand,” Toab responded.
According to Shahriar, Mujib met a special envoy of the president of South Korea that day. He also met the navy chief, information minister, state minister for defence, air force chief, Dhaka University vice chancellor and education minister, among others.
As afternoon settled and activity slowed around the office, Mujib sat beside the Gono Bhaban lake. Someone sprinkled food for the fish.
At around 4:30pm, then state minister for information Taheruddin Thakur arrived and discussed various issues with the president. Nearby, Sheikh Russel, Mujib’s youngest son, was learning to swim. After a while, Russel stood before his father, still dripping, with his swimming instructor.
Mujib told his son: “He is teaching you to swim, so you should give him some gift.”
The education minister and another official then showed Mujib the scroll of honour that Dhaka University students would read out the next day.
Before leaving the office, Mujib instructed Shahriar to go directly to his residence on the morning of August 15. From there, they would accompany the president to the university.
That journey never took place.
Bangladesh was about to witness its darkest hour since liberation.
It was August 15, 1975.
Mujib and his family, except for his two daughters, Sheikh Hasina and Sheikh Rehena, who were in Germany, were assassinated in a coup by disgruntled army personnel.
Later that morning, then Major Sakhawat Hussain, who retired as brigadier general, visited the house to collect footage and film. He recounted the experience in his book Bangladesh Roktakto Odhyay 1975-1981 (Bangladesh’s Bloody Chapter 1975-1981).
The smell of gunpowder hit his nostrils as soon as he entered. He was there to collect three rolls of film -- one from BTV and two from newspaper photographers of Ittefaq and Doinik Bangla. They had been shot immediately after the execution of the first family.
Sakhawat saw the body of Bangabandhu’s former security chief, Colonel Jamil Ahmed, who was later posthumously awarded Bir Uttam. Jamil’s body was bloody and riddled with bullets.
“Tears filled my eyes without my knowing it,” Sakhawat wrote.
At around 10:00am, almost five hours after the assassination, he was allowed to look around the entire house.
As he entered, his heart began beating faster.
“I caught the smell of corpses. Along with that, the smell of gunpowder and the silence of death created a strange atmosphere. All in all, I felt like I had come to a city of death.”
A police inspector who had been on duty lay face down on a table at the foot of the stairs, which was covered in blood.
Sakhawat moved through the house and entered another room to the right of the stairs, which he thought was probably the guest room.
“As I entered, I saw the bullet-riddled bodies of Bangabandhu’s younger brother Sheikh Naser and one of his assistants. Naser’s body was lying in front of the bathroom door.”
He quickly left and took the stairs.
Then came the moment he would remember clearly.
“When I reached the middle of the stairs, I saw that heartbreaking scene, which I still remember clearly. It was the lifeless body of Bangabandhu lying on the stairs.”
“I saw the bullet-riddled, bloody, lifeless body of Bangladesh President Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman lying in the middle of the stairs of his own house.”
Mujib was wearing a white kurta and chequered lungi. His right hand was on his chest and his left was slightly extended. His glasses had fallen a little away.
“His chest was riddled with bullets. Blood was clotted on the stairs. His face was calm; there was no sign of fear. It seemed that even the slightest shadow of death had not passed over him,” Sakhawat wrote.
Mujib was supposed to die at the hands of Pakistani soldiers. But they did not have the courage to do so. Instead, he died in his own home in independent Bangladesh, Sakhawat added.
He could not remain in front of Bangabandhu’s body for long.
“I felt uneasy.”
“To go upstairs, I would have had to step over Bangabandhu’s body, which seemed deeply disrespectful. So, I slid against the wall and climbed up to go to the bedroom.”
Upstairs, the horror continued.
In one bedroom, Sakhawat saw a double bed, an almirah and a table, like in any middle-class family home. There were three phones, several smoking pipes and a red phone. “There was blood everywhere. The smell of dried blood was unbearable as soon as it hit my nose. I also saw numerous boot marks, signs of soldiers’ movements through the room.”
The bodies of the other dead family members were in the master bedroom.
“I saw Begum Mujib’s body. Bodies of Kamal, Jamal and their two newly married daughters-in-law lay next to her. And last of all, the dead body of Russell in the corner.”
“Maybe they were all killed in the same room or maybe two or three bodies were dragged into one room to be put together,” Sakhawat wrote.
Lieutenant Colonel (retd) MA Hamid also visited the house on August 15. In his book Tinti Sena Abbutthan O Na Bola Kisu Kotha (Three Military Coups and Some Untold Stories), he described the massacre.
On his way upstairs, he was shocked to see Sheikh Mujib lying on the stairs, with blood streaming across them.
He then saw Begum Mujib’s body lying face down against the wall.
Hamid passed her and entered the room.
“A sea of blood was splattered all over the room. The soles of my boots were almost half submerged…several bodies lay in the room.”
According to Hamid, on the left lay Sheikh Jamal. Judging by the condition of his body, it appeared that a grenade had been thrown into the room. Nearby was Rosie Jamal, newly married, her hands still painted with henna. The grenade blast had struck her directly in the face.
Next to her was Sultana Kamal. Only days earlier, Hamid had seen the “golden girl”, beloved in the sports arena, running across the stadium.
“Little Russell’s body was lying on her lap. His face looked very pitiful. The back of his skull was completely crushed. I don’t know what crime this little child had committed,” Hamid wrote.
Thus ended one of the bloodiest chapters in Bangladesh’s history.
It was like no other day.
