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Never forget. Never.

 I have written at length in the past (posts here and here) about Bangladesh. Nearly ten months to the day I went to Dhaka, I am still overcome with a sense of shame whenever I talk about the country. Tonight, at dinner in DC, miles away from our homeland, many of us shared our experiences of what Dhaka was like, funny anecdotes from hotels we stayed at, whether Dhaka reminded us more of Indian cities or Pakistani. 

And then you remember that it has been fourty long, long years. No apologies, no explanations -- and from the looks of what rulers in Islamabad and Rawalpindi think -- we have not learnt from what happened that fateful day.

I was born fourteen years after Dhaka fell. My parents were not from East Pakistan, and didn't have any links to the land. We didn't lose friends, or family in the violence that took place. All I know of what happened in 1971 is what I have read in history books, and from what I heard and saw in Dhaka.

And yet. It is not even shame, it is a gutwrenching misery that twists your insides when you close your eyes, and think of the murders, the rapes, the brutality, the blood. 

We can apologize, for something we didn't do, and something we would never wish on another person, or country. But more importantly, we must never forget.

Reader Comments (1)

Yes, we can apologize, for what we haven't done.

March 23, 2012 | Unregistered CommenterUmar Khan

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