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Bangladesh war: The article that changed history

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I wonder if it was actually real events on the ground, or a few politically motivated articles that shaped the perception of many in the world regarding the 1971 Indian aggression. here it says these articles are remembered fondly, but its more like the fascists force people to 'remember' things they did not experience and that did not happen.

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Bangladesh war: The article that changed history
By Mark Dummett
BBC News
_57359640_mascarenhas_genocide464.jpg


On 13 June 1971, an article in the UK's Sunday Times exposed the brutality of Pakistan's suppression of the Bangladeshi uprising. It forced the reporter's family into hiding and changed history.

Abdul Bari had run out of luck. Like thousands of other people in East Bengal, he had made the mistake - the fatal mistake - of running within sight of a Pakistani patrol. He was 24 years old, a slight man surrounded by soldiers. He was trembling because he was about to be shot.

So starts one of the most influential pieces of South Asian journalism of the past half century.

Written by Anthony Mascarenhas, a Pakistani reporter, and printed in the UK's Sunday Times, it exposed for the first time the scale of the Pakistan army's brutal campaign to suppress its breakaway eastern province in 1971.

Nobody knows exactly how many people were killed, but certainly a huge number of people lost their lives. Independent researchers think that between 300,000 and 500,000 died. The Bangladesh government puts the figure at three million.

The strategy failed, and Bangladeshis are now celebrating the 40th anniversary of the birth of their country. Meanwhile, the first trial of those accused of committing war crimes has recently begun in Dhaka.



Anthony Mascarenhas
_57359440_mascarenhas464.jpg

Anthony Mascarenhas was 'just a very good reporter', recalls Harold Evans
  • July 1928: Born in Goa
  • 1930s: Educated in Karachi
  • June 1971: Exposes war crimes in East Pakistan that alter international opinion
  • 1972: Wins international journalism awards
  • 1979: Reports that Pakistan has developed nuclear weapons


There is little doubt that Mascarenhas' reportage played its part in ending the war. It helped turn world opinion against Pakistan and encouraged India to play a decisive role.

Prime Minister Indira Gandhi told the then editor of the Sunday Times, Harold Evans, that the article had shocked her so deeply it had set her "on a campaign of personal diplomacy in the European capitals and Moscow to prepare the ground for India's armed intervention," he recalled.

Not that this was ever Mascarenhas' intention. He was, Evans wrote in his memoirs, "just a very good reporter doing an honest job".

He was also very brave. Pakistan, at the time, was run by the military, and he knew that he would have to get himself and his family out of the country before the story could be published - not an easy task in those days.

"His mother always told him to stand up and speak the truth and be counted," Mascarenhas's widow, Yvonne, recalled (he died in 1986). "He used to tell me, put a mountain before me and I'll climb it. He was never daunted."

_57271595_pak_east_west_1971_war_464map.gif

A map of Pakistan before the 1971 war


When the war in what was then East Pakistan broke out in March 1971, Mascarenhas was a respected journalist in Karachi, the main city in the country's dominant western wing, on good terms with the country's ruling elite. He was a member of the city's small community of Goan Christians, and he and Yvonne had five children.

Foreign journalists had already been expelled, and Pakistan was also keen to publicise atrocities committed by the other side. Awami League supporters had massacred tens of thousands of civilians whose loyalty they suspected, a war crime that is still denied by many today in Bangladesh.

Eight journalists, including Mascarenhas, were given a 10-day tour of the province. When they returned home, seven of them duly wrote what they were told to.

But one of them refused.

Yvonne Mascarenhas remembers him coming back distraught: "I'd never seen my husband looking in such a state. He was absolutely shocked, stressed, upset and terribly emotional," she says, speaking from her home in west London.

"He told me that if he couldn't write the story of what he'd seen he'd never be able to write another word again."

Clearly it would not be possible to do so in Pakistan. All newspaper articles were checked by the military censor, and Mascarenhas told his wife he was certain he would be shot if he tried.

Pretending he was visiting his sick sister, Mascarenhas then travelled to London, where he headed straight to the Sunday Times and the editor's office.



Bangladesh independence war, 1971
_57359641_war_getty304.jpg

  • Civil war erupts in Pakistan, pitting the West Pakistan army against East Pakistanis demanding autonomy and later independence
  • Fighting forces an estimated 10 million East Pakistani civilians to flee to India
  • In December, India invades East Pakistan in support of the East Pakistani people
  • Pakistani army surrenders at Dhaka and its army of more than 90,000 become Indian prisoners of war
  • East Pakistan becomes the independent country of Bangladesh on 16 December 1971
  • Exact number of people killed is unclear - Bangladesh says it is three million but independent researchers say it is up to 500,000 fatalities



_57359444_013349237-1.jpg

Indians and Bengali guerrillas fought in support of East Pakistan


Evans remembers him in that meeting as having "the bearing of a military man, square-set and moustached, but appealing, almost soulful eyes and an air of profound melancholy".

"He'd been shocked by the Bengali outrages in March, but he maintained that what the army was doing was altogether worse and on a grander scale," Evans wrote.

Mascarenhas told him he had been an eyewitness to a huge, systematic killing spree, and had heard army officers describe the killings as a "final solution".

Evans promised to run the story, but first Yvonne and the children had to escape Karachi.

They had agreed that the signal for them to start preparing for this was a telegram from Mascarenhas saying that "Ann's operation was successful".

Yvonne remembers receiving the message at three the next morning. "I heard the telegram man bang at my window and I woke up my sons and I was: 'Oh my gosh, we have to go to London.' It was terrifying. I had to leave everything behind.

"We could only take one suitcase each. We were crying so much it was like a funeral," she says.

To avoid suspicion, Mascarenhas had to return to Pakistan before his family could leave. But as Pakistanis were only allowed one foreign flight a year, he then had to sneak out of the country by himself, crossing by land into Afghanistan.

The day after the family was reunited in their new home in London, the Sunday Times published his article, under the headline "Genocide".


'Betrayal'

It is such a powerful piece of reporting because Mascarenhas was clearly so well trusted by the Pakistani officers he spent time with.

I have witnessed the brutality of 'kill and burn missions' as the army units, after clearing out the rebels, pursued the pogrom in the towns and villages.

I have seen whole villages devastated by 'punitive action'.

And in the officer's mess at night I have listened incredulously as otherwise brave and honourable men proudly chewed over the day's kill.

'How many did you get?' The answers are seared in my memory.



This was one of the most significant articles written on the war
-Mofidul Huq, Liberation War Museum



His article was - from Pakistan's point of view - a huge betrayal and he was accused of being an enemy agent. It still denies its forces were behind such atrocities as those described by Mascarenhas, and blames Indian propaganda.

However, he still maintained excellent contacts there, and in 1979 became the first journalist to reveal that Pakistan had developed nuclear weapons.

In Bangladesh, of course, he is remembered more fondly, and his article is still displayed in the country's Liberation War Museum.

"This was one of the most significant articles written on the war. It came out when our country was cut off, and helped inform the world of what was going on here," says Mofidul Huq, a trustee of the museum.

His family, meanwhile, settled into life in a new and colder country.

"People were so serious in London and nobody ever talked to us," Yvonne Mascarenhas remembers. "We were used to happy, smiley faces, it was all a bit of a change for us after Karachi. But we never regretted it."
 
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Why does it matter? Faida keya? Itne (Challis Char) saal guzar gaye.

We killed so many of the Pak Army soldiers (so easy because the poor slobs didn't even know how to swim). And they killed so many of ours too. We buried ours and they buried theirs. So much stupidity and pain on both sides. Buddha was right. Greed, avarice and lust for power are the sources of all misery.

The only people benefiting by digging this crap up from years ago in Bangladesh is people who want to capitalize on labels like 'razakar' and 'mukti' and the hold on power it can afford.

We Bengalis still speak Urdu and Hindi, but so few in the rest of the Subcontinent can speak ours. I think it makes us a better people.

We are separate countries now. A lot of lessons were learned. Let bygones be bygones.
 
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Why does it matter? Faida keya? Itne (Challis Char) saal guzar gaye.

We killed so many of the Pak Army soldiers (so easy because the poor slobs didn't even know how to swim). And they killed so many of ours too. We buried ours and they buried theirs. So much stupidity and pain on both sides. Buddha was right. Greed, avarice and lust for power are the sources of all misery.

The only people benefiting by digging this crap up from years ago in Bangladesh is people who want to capitalize on labels like 'razakar' and 'mukti' and the hold on power it can afford.

We Bengalis still speak Urdu and Hindi, but so few in the rest of the Subcontinent can speak ours. I think it makes us a better people.

We are separate countries now. A lot of lessons were learned. Let bygones be bygones.
:rofl: swimming is a must to join the army.. :lol:

As for better ppl 92% Pakistanis are bilingual or trilingualllllzzzzz.. Urdu is our national language apart from our local languages/mother tongues.
 
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Urdu is actually an Indian language. Pakistanis actually speak Punjabi (60%), Sindhi, Pashtun, Balochi languages at home and even when speak Urdu you people use Punjabi dialect. :p:
60% is the population of punjab not Pubjabis .. Even Pubjab is divided into regions .. A central Pubjabis can't comprehend serike from Southern Punjab or Hazara .. And so on .. Even in southern Punjab who belts are dominated by Baluch who speak both seriki aswell as Balochi .. On the otherside there are Pakhtuns many of whom speak both pashtu the regional dialect of seriki .


As for speaking in punjabi accent .. Nope ...unless the speaker is from rural punjab ..

I'm a baluch but can speak better urdu than urdu speakers of karachi...
As for urdu yes it's probably is khari Bli which was used in Persian/muslim courts .. Urdu is a much more modernised or evolved language with mix of persian,Turkic,Arabic and regional Pak languages .. Th "Urdu" spoken in Hyderabad or UP in India is more like a bastardised form of Urdu .. but than again it's going extinct in india.. Meanwhile it's endangering regional languages of Pakistan.
 
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This article was inevitable, the horrible decisions by the military ruler at the time was the key factor. The Americans even condemned Yahya's actions behind the scene. Nixon was thoroughly against Yahya's approach. Indians struck at the right time and in the right moment...

This article by the foreign Affairs sums it up perfectly, one should also checkout the Frost Nixon interview...

What Really Happened in Bangladesh
Washington, Islamabad, and the Genocide in East Pakistan



On November 13, 1970, a devastating cyclone struck East Pakistan, a province dominated by the Bengali ethnic group and physically separated from the rest of Pakistan by India. The cyclone killed an estimated 230,000 people, and in its wake, the national government, based in West Pakistan, did too little to alleviate the suffering, further alienating the long-underrepresented Bengalis. A year later, they would declare independence. As an officer in the U.S. consulate in the East Pakistani capital of Dhaka later noted, “The cyclone was the real reason for the final break.”
Several weeks after the cyclone, on December 7, Pakistan held the first direct elections in its 23-year history. East Pakistan went for Mujibur Rahman, who headed a Bengali nationalist party called the Awami League, which was moderately pro-American. Sheik Mujib, as he was known, initially favored autonomy for both wings of Pakistan in a confederation. West Pakistan elected another nationalist, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. He threatened to unseat the military government under General Agha Muhammad Yahya Khan, who was commonly referred to as Yahya. Because East Pakistan was more populous than West Pakistan, the Awami League won a substantial majority of the seats in the new national parliament, and Mujib stood to become prime minister of the entire country.

Yahya had no interest in losing East Pakistan, and as negotiations among himself, Bhutto, and Mujib went nowhere, he postponed the opening of the National Assembly, which had been scheduled for March 3, 1971. Feeling that the fruits of their electoral victory had been stolen from them, the people of East Pakistan poured into the streets and then launched a general strike. Archer Blood, the U.S. consul general in Dhaka, reported to the State Department: “I’ve seen the beginning of the breakup of Pakistan.”

Yahya banned the Awami League, ordered Mujib’s arrest, and oversaw a brutal military crackdown that involved the systematic massacre of some 200,000 defenseless citizens and sent more than six million Bengalis fleeing across the Indian border. Later in the year, India reacted by invading East Pakistan, winning a 13-day war that made East Pakistan’s earlier declaration of independence as Bangladesh a reality.

Throughout the crisis, as Gary Bass recounts in his new book, The Blood Telegram, the United States stuck by its ally, supporting Pakistan during the crackdown and threatening India as it prepared for war. The author has produced this gripping, thoroughly researched, concisely organized, and engagingly written account to spotlight what he calls the “significant complicity” of U.S. President Richard Nixon and his national security adviser, Henry Kissinger, in a “forgotten genocide.”

Bass relies not only on traditional sources, such as contemporary press accounts, interviews with participants, and the files of the State Department and the National Security Council staff, but also on the White House audio recordings that Nixon authorized. These tapes provide the rare opportunity to listen in on the private Oval Office exchanges between Nixon and Kissinger -- a record that speaks irrefutably for itself. One of the casualties of Bass’ book is the concept of the rational actor at the center of international relations: whether he intended to or not, Bass lays bare the conflicting interests, political realities, and deep personal animosities that rage at the heart of policymaking in a deep-rooted, multidimensional conflict.

STANDING BY

Once the election raised the prospect that Pakistan could split in two, U.S. policymakers faced sharply opposing options. The first was to try for a negotiated solution that would avoid bloodshed and preserve the unity of Pakistan, even while acknowledging the limits of U.S. influence in such an internal conflict. As a senior member of the National Security Council staff at the time, I am quoted as writing to Kissinger that the United States was “witnessing the possible birth of a new nation of over 70 million people. . . . We could have something to do with how this comes about -- peacefully or by bloody civil war.” At the very least, I argued, Washington could urge Yahya not to unleash his military on the people of East Pakistan. In Bass’ frequently repeated formulation, this option in effect placed “simply avoiding the loss of life” as a top policy priority.

The alternative course, which Nixon and Kissinger actually chose -- inaction -- reflected three impulses. First was their judgment that nothing the United States could say would restrain Pakistani leaders from doing everything possible to preserve the unity of their country. After all, the United States had once fought a costly civil war to preserve its own unity. Second was the principle of noninterference in the internal affairs of other states. “We don’t tell others how to run their countries,” Kissinger often said. And third was the impulse to stand by a Cold War ally. The United States had given military assistance to Pakistan’s leaders ever since the Eisenhower administration created the Middle East Treaty Organization and the Southeast Asia Treaty Organization to counter Soviet influence, and Nixon and Kissinger wanted to stay the course.

But personal relationships also came into play. During his travels and meetings as vice president and president, as well as during his eight years out of office in between, Nixon had formed strong opinions of South Asia’s politicians. Simply put, he liked Yahya, respected him as a leader, and saw him as an ally. Conversely, he disliked Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi and distrusted India for its decision to remain formally nonaligned yet relatively friendly to the Soviet Union. The taped conversations leave no doubt about Nixon’s perceptions and feelings -- often expressed in foul language.

As Bass’ account unfolds, it becomes apparent that Nixon’s liking for Yahya was something that Kissinger had to take into account when formulating his advice. Bass notes that my colleague Samuel Hoskinson and I sent a steady stream of memos to Kissinger throughout the crisis recommending that the United States pressure Yahya yet received no response. Presumably, Kissinger ignored us in part because he had to deal with the strong prejudices that Nixon revealed in confidence. Having worked with five presidents, I recognize that for better or worse, a critical factor in high-level policymaking is the president as a human being. Crudely put, there’s no right or wrong way; there’s the president’s way.

Kissinger’s decision also seems to have been motivated by his pessimism about the chances for a negotiated settlement: given how far apart the positions of Yahya’s government and the nationalists were, Kissinger apparently did not think it would be possible for the two sides to reach a compromise. Although I repeatedly argued for an aggressive U.S. role in promoting a peaceful resolution to the crisis and share Bass’ admirable commitment to saving lives, I must acknowledge with pain that even the United States cannot always prevent tragedy beyond its borders.

Further complicating the picture was the emerging thaw with China. Yahya had become an effective go-between in laying the groundwork for the normalization of relations between the United States and China, which had drifted away from the Soviet Union during the 1960s. As Kissinger once explained to me, he felt that Beijing would carefully watch how faithfully Washington backed its ally. In the larger scheme of world politics and peace, the opening to China, along with the accompanying reordering of the balance of power, would count as a historic development and a major U.S. accomplishment.

THE BLOODBATH BEGINS

On March 25, when talks between the Pakistani government and the electoral victors broke down, the Pakistani army, wielding weapons supplied by the United States, launched a determined assault on the Bengalis in East Pakistan -- often, as later became apparent, singling out the minority Hindu population. As the death toll mounted, Blood and his team in the American consulate in Dhaka intensified their reporting, even titling one cable “Selective Genocide.” Ultimately, 20 members of the staff signed a telegram, sent on April 6, registering their “strong dissent” from the administration’s policy. The message angered some top administration officials but won wide support among professional civil servants.

Blood and his colleagues, Bass writes, “refused to accept that Yahya could do whatever he wanted within Pakistan’s sovereign borders, overturning a fair election and killing his citizenry.” They wrote that Yahya’s “extra-constitutional martial law regime” was “of dubious legitimacy,” and they compared the Bengali struggle to the American Revolution. The same principles seemed to weigh on the mind of George H. W. Bush, then the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. In internal discussions, Bush supported India’s right to condemn Pakistan at the UN, citing the “tradition which we have supported that [the] human rights question transcend domestic jurisdiction and should be freely debated.”

Kissinger acknowledged that Yahya’s use of force to hold Pakistan together would probably fail, but he argued in interagency meetings that Washington was powerless to convince Pakistani leaders to act otherwise and noted Nixon’s strong personal relationship with Yahya. Not unexpectedly, when Kissinger presented the results of deliberations within the administration to the president, he found Nixon receptive to the policy recommendation that had reluctantly emerged -- what one State Department official termed “massive inaction.” At this point in his account, Bass underscores his thesis: “There was one consideration that, while voiced by other U.S. officials, never made it into Kissinger’s note to the president: simply avoiding the loss of life.”

But Nixon and Kissinger prevailed, allowing no daylight between Washington and Islamabad. On April 21, Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai sent a message through Yahya suggesting that a high-ranking U.S. official visit China -- validating, in the minds of Nixon and Kissinger, their approach to Pakistan.

INDIA INVADES

By the end of April, an estimated one million refugees from East Pakistan had flooded across the border into India. Gandhi faced conflicting demands. On the one hand, given India’s experience with colonialism, she remained firmly committed to the principles of national sovereignty and noninterference. Moreover, as Bass writes, it would be “embarrassing for India to cheer on secession in East Pakistan while stifling it in Kashmir.” On the other hand, India had an underlying desire to inflict devastating damage on its foe Pakistan. Early in the crisis, Gandhi’s military leaders told her that Indian forces needed months to prepare for an invasion of East Pakistan and that success depended on their waiting past the monsoon season for dry ground. She ordered them to get ready.

But it was the growing influx of refugees, ultimately numbering more than six million, that pushed India over the edge; the fleeing Bengalis were becoming an unbearable burden in a country already unable to care for its own poor. And so the Indian government, while waiting for the optimal conditions, trained and armed Bengali insurgents to bleed the Pakistani forces in East Pakistan. According to Bass, “the refugee crisis was driving India toward war.”

This being the Cold War, the crisis reverberated far beyond South Asia, reaching not only policymakers in Washington but also their counterparts in Beijing and Moscow. China, having been a victim of Western and Japanese imperialism and confronting its own secessionist movements in Tibet and Taiwan, took Pakistan’s side. Reacting to India’s outcry over Pakistani atrocities, Zhou, Bass writes, “vowed to support Pakistan against ‘Indian expansionists.’” At the same time, Beijing was not above backing pro-Chinese Bengali groups to improve its position in East Pakistan. The Soviet Union, meanwhile, signed a treaty of friendship with India.

In the United States, political opposition to U.S. support for Pakistan was mounting, further complicating the White House’s policy. The movement’s torchbearer was Senator Edward Kennedy, a Democrat from Massachusetts and a potential presidential candidate, who landed in India on August 10 for a fact-finding tour. He had intended to meet with Yahya in Islamabad, but the Pakistani government canceled his visa. In India, however, Kennedy toured refugee sites and met secretly with the Bangladeshi government in exile. His staff concluded that India could no longer bear the burden of maintaining the refugees and would have no alternative but to attack. When he returned to Washington, Kennedy assailed the administration, saying that he had just witnessed “the most appalling tide of human misery in modern times” and noting that the atrocities were being committed with U.S.-supplied arms.

As the refugee crisis worsened and the monsoon season came to a close, Indian troops started getting into more skirmishes near the border. Gandhi ordered the Indian military to invade East Pakistan on December 4. But on the evening of December 3, the Pakistanis launched a preemptive strike of their own, bombing Indian airfields near the border with West Pakistan and shelling Indian positions all along the western front, marking the beginning of the 1971 Indo-Pakistani war. The Indian army then launched its long-planned drive across East Pakistan, bypassing cities along the way in an effort to capture Dhaka and end the war quickly. India recognized Bangladesh on December 6. Ten days later, Pakistani forces in Bangladesh surrendered. The western portion of the conflict ended, as Bass puts it, “in a bloody but inconclusive stalemate.”

The outbreak of war had triggered a flurry of activity in the White House. Convinced that India was bent on destroying Pakistan, Kissinger persuaded Nixon to approve actions to protect the United States’ ally. Washington asked the Chinese to mass troops on the Indian border and warned the Soviets not to intervene on India’s behalf. It urged Iran and Jordan to transfer U.S.-supplied combat aircraft to Pakistan, despite clear advice that such action violated U.S. law. And it sent its most formidable aircraft carrier, the USS Enterprise, into the Bay of Bengal to cause India to think twice about invading Pakistan -- a move the Indians would resent long afterward. Fortunately, the war ended before any of these actions could draw the other two major powers into the conflict.

DECISION TIME

When I went to work on the National Security Council staff in the Kennedy administration in 1961, a senior colleague said to me, “Remember: policy is rarely made on paper; it’s a continuously changing mix of people and ideas.” Too often, political scientists make the mistake of treating policymaking and decision-making as synonymous. Policy is a frame of mind, a strategy, or a sense of direction, whereas specific decisions define practical steps for moving in the desired direction.

In other words, policymaking is itself the process of determining which moral principles or strategic objectives to prioritize. Officials’ choices often reflect deep struggles among conflicting interests and values, with the final judgments made not after mathematically weighing the pros and cons but by relying on gut feelings. Likewise, public arguments over policies often reflect the instinctive worldviews of the antagonists rather than honest dialogue to find the best possible approach.

Bass’ stated objective is to correct what he regards as a whitewashed historical record and reveal the complicity of Nixon and Kissinger in the tragedy in East Pakistan. On that score, he has made his point, with the help of the Nixon tapes and his own impressive ability to organize and narrate a story that has a number of tracks. Yet whether or not he intended to, Bass has also presented a picture of the agonizing complexity of policymaking. Many readers will finish this book concluding that real-world dilemmas often have no clear right or wrong answers. Bass’ own touchstone for U.S. policymaking in the events he analyzes is the protection of lives. Nixon and Kissinger, acting on a mix of predispositions (or prejudices), on the principle of noninterference, on a sense of commitment to an ally, and on a desire to establish a channel to China, put the U.S. relationship with Pakistan above humanitarian concerns. As is so often the case in real-world policymaking, they had to choose between moral and pragmatic considerations.

Bass’ numerous citations of my memos reveal two points on which my approach differed from the course Nixon and Kissinger took. First, although I, too, respected the principle of noninterference, I had long felt that the United States had a moral obligation to use its influence to contribute to economic well-being and to prevent violence where possible. Kissinger, on the other hand, had to work with a president who harbored a strong bias in favor of Yahya. Kissinger also felt that the United States had no real influence over Yahya, and he was determined to prevent India from attacking the government in West Pakistan. (Fortunately, India chose to settle for the separation of East Pakistan.) Second, experience had led me to be wary of policy rooted in emotion and anger. Of course, I could not have known about private conversations taking place in the Oval Office, but it is now clear just how vehement the emotions expressed there were.

In the end, Bangladesh emerged from horrible bloodshed as a viable nation, and India and Pakistan remain locked in an uneasy truce -- with each now possessing nuclear weapons. We will never know whether the United States could have prevented the violence without doing more harm than good. Also up for debate is the broader question of whether Washington becomes an accomplice in another government’s wrongdoing when it preserves a working relationship with that government for larger purposes -- as it did with Stalin’s regime during World War II and as it is doing with Beijing today. That is a matter of personal judgment. In the case of East Pakistan, I would have tried to promote a negotiated agreement, but such an effort might well have failed. Should Washington then have broken relations with Yahya? Its larger interests would have argued against doing so. Such are the complex questions with which policymakers at the highest level must grapple. But historians, commentators, and citizens who care about the conduct of U.S. foreign relations will make their own judgments about how such questions should ultimately be answered.

How Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger Handled the 1971 Bangladesh Crisis | Foreign Affairs
 
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English n Sanskrit ? Da fuk.
Yep lol. Pakistani Urdu is not an old language, developing no more than 200 years. However the Urdu spoken in most places of India was developed around the 18th century which is why some word are similar to Sanskrit.
 
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Yep lol. Pakistani Urdu is not an old language, developing no more than 200 years. However the Urdu spoken in most places of India was developed around the 18th century which is why some word are similar to Sanskrit.

What are you smoking ? Have you read urdu ? Iqbals poetry? That's our urdu.
 
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Urdu is actually an Indian language. Pakistanis actually speak Punjabi (60%), Sindhi, Pashtun, Balochi languages at home and even when speak Urdu you people use Punjabi dialect. :p:


Urdu was an amalgam language that took its genesis in what was the Northern Part of Undivided India centered around Delhi. The Muslims who migrated to Pakistan post-partition took that language with them. Needless to say, it went in the luggage of the 'Mohajirs' which in turn caused stresses in Karachi whose original inhabitants spoke Sindhi, and to alesser extent in West Punjab. But Jinnah was insistent that Urdu must prevail over all regional languages; which in turn led to the 'Language riots' in East Bengal. Then, the rest is History....... which was well-documented by great journalists such as Anthony Mascarenhas.
 
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Urdu is an Indian language, yes, it came out of UP in India. However it was made for the Muslims of SA and not exclusive to one country. If one looks at Islamic literary, Urdu is used quite a lot. It's mix of Persian, Arabic and Sanskrit makes it better for transliteration purposes, but it's roots are still from India.

And anyway, the common man will not be able to make distinction between Urdu and Hindi, it sounds the same. Urdu speakers are the subject of call centre jokes just as Indian speakers are lol ;)
 
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