Initially, in between my
cooking chores, I would be sent to recce the positioning of the enemy. I would
pretend to be a mad woman and collect information about the enemy from
different sources and places and inform the camp about them. The freedom fighters
would execute their operations based on the information I gave them. Meanwhile,
my godfather Muhib Habildar said to me one day: “Taramon, I want you to do more
work for us. You have the ability and so I want to teach you how to use
firearms. You will be directly participating in the war.” He taught me how to
fire an SMG. In order to practice target shooting, he ordered me to fire at a
turtle dove on the top branch of a tree. I succeeded on the first day itself.
Life of a freedom fighter: I
didn't even realise when the 14-year old teenage Taramon became a soldier while
working with the soldiers of the East Bengal Regiment. The realisation hit me
when the Pakistani army attacked us from a gunboat.
It was an afternoon during
the month of Shrabon, the rain was pouring down on us. All of us at the camp
were having our lunch. Suddenly, freedom fighter Aziz Master called me and
asked me to climb a beetle nut tree to check whether the Pakistani army was
situated anywhere nearby. I climbed the tree and checked in the direction of
the river through binoculars. While checking here and there, I suddenly chanced
to see a launch. Gradually, after seeing more clearly, I understood that it was
a gunboat of the enemy. The Pakistani army was heading towards our camp in that
gunboat. Disaster! I cried out, “Be careful! The Pakistanis are coming. . .”
Everyone left their meals, got hold of their guns and arms and took position. I
quickly got down from the tree and took my position near them with my Chinese
SMG in hand. Thus began an incredible fight. We fired shots. Their shots hit
the trees near us. The small branches and leaves of the trees were falling on
me. A bullet fired by me hit a Pakistani soldier. I loaded the magazine even
more enthusiastically, and fired at them continuously. Like a piece of cloth
being ripped, the bullets also ripped out of the gun ceaselessly. At times I
heard the sounds of heavy machine guns that would make hearts tremble. After
fighting like this until dusk, the Pakistani army retreated. The grounds of the
camp reverberated with the cries of victory and 'Joy Bangla.'
 |
| Taramon Bibi |
I discovered myself that
day; I saw myself transform from a maid to a soldier. After that we decided
that it would not be safe to set the camp in that place any longer. We moved
from Doshghoria to Ketontari. The air strikes of the Pakistani army began once
we reached that place. A whole village was burnt to ashes. Several people died.
We were ordered to dig bunkers. In one night, we dug 15 x 12 feet. Every time
we heard the sound of a fighter plane, we sought refuge in the bunkers. We
would shoot at the planes whenever we got the opportunity. Thus began my
different life.
I started weaving dreams
then. The country will be rid of its enemies, it will be free. My siblings, my
parents -- my entire family -- will now have enough food to eat.
One afternoon, we saw a
fighter plane, which was unlike the others. No bombs were dropped from it. We
wanted to shoot at it when it completed its circle of inspection and turned to
go back. However, we were stopped by Aziz Master. We learnt from the camp that
they had received news that the country was now independent. The Pakistani army
had surrendered their arms. There were tears of joy in my eyes. The camp was
filled with the continuous slogans of 'Joy Bangla.' I also lent my voice to
these slogans.
A different life: With many
dreams, the country became independent. A different life began. I returned to
Rajibpur. I got to meet my mother and siblings again. We were once again
consumed by poverty. I took work in someone's house. My older sister wasn't
getting any marriage offers. The reason was that I worked at the camp. Everyone
said that I was not a decent girl. One day, Abdul Majid of the same village
proposed marriage to me. I became a victim of poverty and river erosion again
and again. Life refused to move on. In the meantime, my body became the abode
of tuberculosis. I didn't even have the money to buy medicines.
Bad days come to an end: The
year, 1995. In the midst of such a difficult life, the lecturer of Mymensigh
Anondo Mohon College, Bilam Kanti De, came to visit me one day. While answering
his questions, I learnt that I was a freedom fighter honoured with the title of
Bir Protik. After that a report on finding me was published in Bhorer Kagoj. I was
taken to Dhaka and felicitated. Bhorer Kagoj formed a fund to support me
financially. They bought a land for me to build my house and some land for
cultivation. Bangladesh Agricultural Research Institute established an
orgnaisation called RDRS on that land. After that, different organisations
honoured and felicitated me. The government presented me with a land on the
outskirts of Kurigram at Araji Polashbari. The then Commanding Officer of
Kurigram BDR, Lieutenant Colonel Sumon Borua, built a semi-concrete house for
me there in 2007.
It's true that I am now no
longer suffering from poverty but I have yet to see the country that I had
envisioned. Even now freedom fighters live in poverty. Many die without
receiving any treatment. I didn't want to see such a Bangladesh. I wanted an
enemy-free, happy Bangladesh.
About Taramon Bibi:
Taramon
Bibi was born in Shankar Madhabpur village of Kodalkati Union of Kurigram in
1957. Her husband Abdul Majid is a farmer. Her father is the late Abdus Sobhan
while her mother is Kulsum Bewa. For her brave contributions during the
liberation war, Taramon Bibi was honoured with the title of Bir Protik.
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