More than five decades after the Liberation War, the horrors of 25 March 1971 still live on in the memory of Manoranjan Ghoshal — a rare survivor who witnessed the massacre up close and lived to tell the story.
From the killing fields of Dhaka to the airwaves of the Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra, his journey reflects both the brutality of war and the resilience of a nation fighting for independence.
“I pinched myself after crawling out from beneath 33 bodies to realise I was still alive.”
With these words, Manoranjan Ghoshal recalls one of the darkest nights in Bangladesh’s history. A living witness to the horrors of Pakistan Army’s “Operation Searchlight,” a brutal military campaign aimed at crushing Bangladesh.
He remains a rare survivor who came face to face with death and returned to tell the story.
A word soldier, a voice warrior, and a bearer of memory, his life mirrors both personal tragedy and the nation’s defining struggle for independence.
Manoranjan first stepped into activism during the 1969 mass uprising against the oppressive rule of Pakistan’s military ruler Mohammad Ayub Khan.
He joined a group of protest artists, singing resistance songs with a harmonium slung around his neck. His voice echoed across Dhaka—from Victoria Park to the Press Club and the then Pakistan Art Council, now Bangla Academy. At the same time, he wrote for the Daily Sangbad.
On the eve of Independence Day, in a special interview with TIMES of Bangladesh’s Shahriar Mahi, Ghoshal revisited the night of 25 March and the moments that followed, while also reflecting on the present.
The memory of that night remains vivid. Like many young men, he had stepped out that afternoon to prepare for resistance.
At Ray Saheb Bazar, people gathered wood and tyres, setting them alight as chants of “Joy Bangla, Joy Bangabandhu” filled the air. None could foresee the scale of violence that was about to unfold.
Later that night, at around 12:35 or 12:40am, while sitting on the upper floor of his father’s publishing house, East Pakistan Publishers, at 45 Patuatuli, he heard the first gunshots.
The Pakistani military launched its brutal crackdown. The city quickly descended into chaos. Tanks rolled through the streets. Flames rose into the night sky. Thick smoke engulfed Dhaka.
From the rooftop, he saw the city transform into a battlefield within hours. Bullets struck the cornices of nearby buildings. Explosions and fear filled the air.
The following morning brought an even more haunting scene. After the Fajr Azan, he stepped outside and found a city paralysed by fear and silence.
At Shankhari Bazar, he learned that his elder brother, Ratan Ghoshal, had been shot dead by Pakistani forces at the doorstep of their home the previous night. Even in grief, his father, Jamini Ghoshal, urged him not to stop his fight but to leave Dhaka to survive.
After that, his days on the run began. He moved through Gobinda Lal Dutta Lane, Globe Chambe in Motijheel, and Lokkhi Bazar, before taking shelter at St Gregory’s High School on the morning of 31 March. There were 33 people there. Pakistani forces raided the location and took them to Jagannath College (now Jagannath University).
That evening, they were blindfolded and lined up. Soldiers opened fire.
Miraculously, Ghoshal survived. Buried under a pile of bodies, he slowly realised he was still alive.
While trapped under the corpses, he noticed a strange smell that reminded him of bats from his childhood. The memory still unsettles him.
He cut the rope binding his hands with his teeth, removed the blindfold, and climbed out of the pit.
Dawn was breaking, and the sound of church bells could be heard nearby. He found himself in the garden area between Jagannath College and the Judge Court, where he had been left for dead. Even today, he describes his survival as nothing short of miracle.
He later fled through Narsingdi, Kalmakanda in Mymensingh, Jamalpur, and Netrokona before entering Meghalaya in India.
From there, he went to Kolkata, where he sang for All India Radio.
On 25 May 1971, he joined the Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra as a voice fighter. For him, the war was not only fought with weapons but also with voice and art.
But even after independence of the nation was gained, his tragedy did not end. After returning home, he learned that his younger brother, Madan Ghoshal, had also been killed by Pakistani forces and his body was thrown into the Kopotakkho River.
The loss of two brothers, combined with his own near-death experience, remains a burden he carries as both personal grief and national history.
Reflecting on the present, Ghoshal expressed deep concern. He believes that many freedom fighters have faced harassment following recent political changes. Incidents such as garlanding individuals with shoes, he said, are not just acts of disrespect but an insult to the nation’s memory.
“It is unimaginable that those who sacrificed their lives for the country would face such treatment,” he said.
He also spoke firmly about ongoing debates surrounding the Liberation War. In his view, attempts are being made to create a narrative that sidelines 1971 in favour of a so-called “second independence”.
“A nation cannot gain independence twice. The independence achieved through war in 1971 is the only historical truth of Bangladesh,” he said.
He sees politics of vengeance behind this trend.
According to him “Those who failed to establish themselves in the past are now trying to rewrite history.”
He added that such tendencies are particularly visible among those aligned with the ideology of war crimes.
Ghoshal also expressed disappointment over the presence of controversial figures from the Liberation War era in parliament.
“It is shameful for the nation if any Razakar reaches parliament,” he said, adding “Responsibility lies not only with politics but also with voters.”
He warned that political vendettas often lead people to forget history.
Monoranjan Ghoshal stands as a living testimony to the horrors of one of the worst genocides of history and the resilience that followed. His story is not only one of survival but also a reminder of the cost of freedom—and the responsibility to remember it.
