The small town of Patiya, that lies beside the ever busy main road from Chittagong to Cox’s Bazar, retains the sure signs of a considerable population of the Hindu faith, with many temples, old and new, and countless small shrines around.
All this, despite the massacre of about 300 of its Hindu inhabitants by the Pakistan Army, and its allies, in 1971.
With a literacy rate significantly higher than the national average, and a thriving market, it is, to the passer by, nevertheless, a very typical Bangladeshi town, slow to make progress.
But the same passersby, and probably many of the inhabitants, are perhaps completely unaware of the brief life, and death, of one of the more notable of those for whom it was their birthplace. Someone, whose life story and youthful martyrdom, might well be read, and is then hard to forget.
To die, at her own hand, by swallowing a cyanide capsule, this young woman ended her life rather than surrender, not to Pakistanis, but to the British administration, against whom, in 1932, she led an unforgettable attempt to strike a blow in order to obtain the respect and independence so many of her fellow Bengalis sought.
Pritilata Waddedar was born in this small community in May 1911, the daughter of a clerk in the civil administration of Chittagong, which had, after all, been the first city occupied by the British as early as 1760, when it was ceded to the East India Company by the Governor of Bengal to create a buffer between Bengal and the rampant Burmese.
The girl grew up in a very anglicised environment, being admitted to Khastagir Girls School, where she was quickly recognised as a star pupil.
Moving to Eden College in Dhaka, in 1929, she passed with first place, in the Intermediate Examinations, and moved on to Bethune College in Calcutta, where she graduated, with distinction, in Philosophy, in 1931.
At Eden College, she had already joined Sree Sangha, one of the numerous movements aimed, perhaps, as much at achieving respect as seeking independence, and her commitment to such activity continued throughout her time in Calcutta.
History does not relate whether her family were aware of her activity in such movements, but she returned to Chittagong in 1931 with a distinguished academic record that obtained for her the place as headmistress at a local English Medium school, Nandankanan Aparnacharan.
There were, throughout Bengal, many well established “resistance” groups dedicated to reformation, or destruction of the British rule.
And it cannot be surprising that in the city that had, by then, already been under the administration of Britain for 170 years, such resistance was amongst the most active.
Not least, of course, because of the racism so readily demonstrated by British residents.
The early nineteenth century had seen the reform of British administration of its Indian territories, bringing to its work far more lower middle class employees who often sought refuge from their alienation in both religion and racism.
And since Chittagong had been, from the beginning, a major base of British activity, there were probably more British residents, and more British-only facilities, than in most other parts of India.
Amongst the British facilities was Pahartali European Club, which, as was not uncommon, bore at its gate a notice that symbolised the sad sense of insecurity felt by so many of these lower middle class British. The notice read: “Dogs and Indians Not Allowed” … except, of course, as servants.
Unsurprisingly, the great independence leader, Jawaharlal Nehru, himself a well-educated Indian, said of such notices: “In India every European, be he German, or Pole or Romanian, is automatically a member of the ruling race.
Railway carriages, station retiring rooms, benches in parks etc, were marked “For Europeans Only.”
This was bad enough in South Africa or elsewhere, but to have to put up with it in one’s own country was a humiliating and exasperating reminder of one’s enslaved condition.
Like Nehru, Pritilata herself had every reason, with a level of education, no doubt superior to most of the British themselves, and considerable exposure to Western lifestyle, to feel humiliated and exasperated, if not simply insulted.
It may, certainly, be a fascinating speculation to wonder if, had the British appreciated that the rising tide of anti-British emotion may well have been more anger at the lack of fundamental rights and recognition, rather than simply occupation, the benefits of which many still acknowledge, history might have taken a different course.
However, during visits home from Calcutta, Pritilata found her own brother already a member of an anti-British group, which certainly facilitated her entry into their work.
Called upon, at first, to discharge messages, rather than missions, by the group led by Surya Sen, known as Masterda, on her final return to her home, she became a trusted and respected member of the group.
In June 1932 she was called to his hideout at Dhalghat, to meet with Sen, but arrived to find the hideout surrounded by police and army; in the ensuing confrontation many of the group lost their lives, but she and Sen were amongst those who managed to escape.
Returning to her school, she quickly realised that she had been identified, and was being sought, and, together with another female member of the group, she went underground.
In September of that year, because of the untimely arrest of her female colleague Kalpana Datta, she was assigned by Sen to lead an attack on the Pahartali Club, with its loathsome sign.
On September 23, dressed in male attire, she led eight associates to attack the club in the late evening.
Injured by a gunshot, she took refuge, but, wounded, and realising herself trapped, she bit into the cyanide capsule that Sen had instructed all to carry. The next morning, her body was found by police, who immediately identified her.
The chief secretary of Bengal forwarded to the authorities in London a report of the incident, replete with the slurs on the young woman with which freedom fighters have long been familiar.
“Pritilata has been closely associated with, if not the mistress of, the terrorist Biswas who was hanged for the murder of Inspector Tarini Mukherjee, and some reports indicate she was the wife of Nirmal Sen who was killed whilst attempting to evade arrest at Dhakghat, where Captain Cameron fell.”
Today, it is not hard to recognise her, as the Birkannya Pritilata Trust describes her, as a “beacon of light for women.”
It is also not hard to add that like numerous martyrs across the world, young people who have sacrificed their lives for causes in which they believed, their beliefs subsequently justified by events … one thinks of 17-year-old Kevin Barry, fighting for Irish Independence, who, at 18 years of age, in 1920, also died in a similar cause ... she represents the best, not only of womankind, but also humankind.
A woman, and a Hindu. Both identities so frequently forgotten in the moving, and ultimately powerful story of the fight of Bangladeshis, first to free themselves from Britain, and then from Pakistan.
