By Muhammad Mohsin Iqbal
History has a way of speaking to us across the decades, sometimes in whispers, sometimes in thundering reminders. In the story of the Indian subcontinent, few chapters resonate as powerfully as the role of Bengal’s Muslims in shaping the destiny of Pakistan. From the political stirrings of Dhaka in 1906 to the historic Lahore Resolution of 1940, and ultimately the decisive elections of 1946, it was the people of Bengal who were at the forefront of translating the abstract ideals of the Two-Nation Theory into a palpable demand. Their contribution was not peripheral; it was central, decisive, and, in many ways, heroic. Without their steadfast leadership, organizational acumen, and mass mobilization, the path to Pakistan would have been far more fraught, uncertain, and perhaps altogether unachievable.
When the Lahore Resolution was formally presented at what was then Minto Park, now known as Iqbal Park, it was a son of Bengal, A. K. Fazlul Huq, who stood to articulate the vision. The resolution called for independent states in Muslim-majority areas of the northwest and the eastern zones, a blueprint for a partitioned subcontinent that seemed audacious at the time. Later, in the 1946 provincial elections, the Muslim League secured a sweeping mandate in Bengal, signaling unequivocally that the people of the eastern wing placed their faith in Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s vision. This electoral triumph was far from incidental; it conferred moral legitimacy and political weight on the demand for Pakistan. To acknowledge Pakistan’s creation without recognizing the determination, courage, and sacrifices of Bengal’s Muslims would be a disservice to history itself.
From the bustling towns to the quiet villages, ordinary citizens played extraordinary roles, affirming their distinct political and geographical identity with dignity and resolve. Yet the birth of Pakistan was accompanied by structural vulnerabilities from the outset. The partition of 1947 carved a nation divided by a thousand miles of hostile territory. Between West and East Pakistan lay India, a neighbor whose leadership had never fully accepted the logic of partition. Geography, often underestimated in historical narratives, imposed profound challenges: communications were strained, defence coordination was complex, and economic integration across such distances was daunting. These were not mere inconveniences—they were strategic dilemmas that demanded careful navigation, foresight, and unity.
During the struggle for independence, such challenges were overshadowed by the euphoria of collective purpose. In movements that seek monumental change, differences—whether ideological, linguistic, or regional—are temporarily set aside in pursuit of a common objective. But once independence was achieved, latent prejudices and grievances began to surface. In East Pakistan, linguistic, administrative, and economic inequities gradually deepened. The language movement of 1948–52, culminating in the tragic events of 21 February 1952, exposed the fact that political freedom alone could not ensure emotional or cultural integration. Economic disparities, whether perceived or real, compounded mistrust, revealing the fragile architecture of a newly-formed state.
India, observing these fissures, did not remain passive. What might have been internal administrative shortcomings were amplified in the regional imagination. Propaganda, diplomatic pressure, and eventually overt military intervention in 1971 escalated tensions into catastrophe. The dismemberment of Pakistan and the emergence of Bangladesh was not the result of a single misstep but a convergence of internal miscalculations, unresolved grievances, and external maneuvering. It remains one of the most painful chapters in South Asia’s modern history, a reminder that the legacies of partition extended far beyond lines on a map.
Today, circumstances are markedly different from those of 1947. Bangladesh stands as a sovereign state, increasingly recognized for its economic achievements and its dynamic society. Pakistan, too, has endured a complex journey marked by trials, resilience, and reinvention. Despite historical estrangements, there exists between the peoples of Pakistan and Bangladesh a shared cultural reservoir: linguistic echoes, memories of common struggle, and intertwined histories that cannot be erased. Recognition of historical truths, separating fact from distortion, allows a more balanced comprehension of responsibility and the forces of manipulation that shaped events.
The lesson of history is clear: neither to romanticize the past nor to remain imprisoned by it. The Muslims of Bengal were co-architects of Pakistan, and their contributions demand enduring acknowledgment. The tragedy of 1971 teaches the cost of neglecting grievances and underestimating external interference. Today, opportunities exist to rebuild bridges on the foundations of mutual respect, sovereignty, and non-interference. If the spirit of brotherhood is kept alive—tempered by vigilance and guided by wisdom—even divided households may rediscover harmony. Nations, like families, mature through suffering, and the task before Pakistan and Bangladesh is not to erase history but to learn from it, ensuring that future generations inherit not embers of resentment, but the light of understanding.
(The writer is a seasoned parliamentary expert with over two decades of experience in legislative research and media affairs, leading policy support initiatives for lawmakers on complex national and international issues, and can be reached at editorial@metro-Morning.com)
