31 March, 1971: The day St Gregory’s still remembers
The school had become a temporary shelter for people who fled from nearby neighbourhoods after the military crackdown of 25 March. Many hoped that being on the grounds of a missionary institution might keep them safe.
The day was 31 March 1971.
It was a Wednesday. Dhaka was tense. Pakistani military vehicles patrolled the streets, and reports of arrests and violence spread through the city. Inside the walls of my alma mater, St Gregory's High School & College, families had taken refuge.
The school had become a temporary shelter for people who fled from nearby neighbourhoods after the military crackdown of 25 March. Many hoped that being on the grounds of a missionary institution might keep them safe.
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Brother Robert CSC, the then headmaster, and Brother Hobart, an English teacher, were among those trying to maintain calm. They oversaw the campus and its occupants, including students, families, and fellow teachers, doing everything they could to protect those inside.
This moment in the school's history was recorded years later on the Sachalayatan blog in 2011 by a former student who wrote under the pseudonym "Orpheus". The account captures the tension and fear of that day, the uncertainty in the faces of the teachers, and the desperate hope that the military would leave the school unharmed.
Despite the precautions, soldiers eventually entered the school premises. After a brief check and assurances that it was "routine", they rounded up people who had sought shelter. Among those detained were teachers Nikhil Chandra Sutradhar, Paul Palma, DN Pal Chowdhury, and Pal Chowdhury's two sons, Shaibal and Utpal. Attempts by Brother Robert and Brother Hobart to intervene were unsuccessful.
All were taken to the then Jagannath College camp, and that same night, they were executed.
For me, reading these accounts carries a personal weight. This is not just history. This is my alma mater, the place that shaped me, where I sat in classrooms and walked the same grounds that bore witness to such terror.
When I was a student, every year on 31 March, we placed wreaths at the Shaheed Minar and paid tribute after assembly. At the time, the meaning of the day felt abstract. Now, understanding what occurred, that act of remembrance carries profound significance.
Gregorian Nilotpal Sarker, class of 1970 and later a teacher at the school, recalls the day vividly. His father, Nikhil Chandra Sutradhar, was taken by the military along with DN Pal Chowdhury and others.
"We never saw them again. The school has observed March 31 as Martyrs' Day ever since," Nilotpal said. For him, the day carries both institutional and deeply personal significance, a memory of loss intertwined with duty to preserve history.
Former student Md Sunny Alam, class of 1968, was present at the school that morning. He recalls that in the days following 25 March, the school had effectively become a camp, with people from nearby neighbourhoods seeking shelter.
When soldiers arrived, men were separated and taken away, despite attempts by the missionaries and staff to intervene. Later that night, gunshots were heard near Jagannath College. After independence, Sunny visited the site and saw human remains, confirming the tragic events of that day.
The school campus itself has changed over the years. The old "Bakultala" no longer exists. Modern buildings now dominate, and the Shaheed Minar has been relocated within the school grounds. Yet 31 March remains engraved in the institution's memory. The school continues to honour its martyrs, connecting past events to the present through ceremonies and observances.
What happened at St Gregory's was one among many such incidents during the Liberation War. Across Dhaka and other parts of Bangladesh, people were taken from homes, institutions, and places they believed would offer safety.
Schools, colleges, and religious institutions often became temporary shelters, yet they were not always spared. Many who were taken in those early days of the war were never seen again.
For the new generation of Gregorians, this history is not lived memory, but something learned through observance, stories and institutional memory. Though the campus has evolved, 31 March continues to serve as a reminder of courage, sacrifice, and the cost of freedom.
Even as the campus has changed, 31 March remains a solemn reminder. My alma mater still honours those who were lost, and each year, new generations of Gregorians pause to remember the courage and sacrifice that shaped our history.
