DACCA, Pakistan, Dec. 10 —Some of the double‐decker buses continue their daytime passenger runs around Dacca, but on Government business and under a camouflage coat of mud.

Slit trenches for air‐raid refuge are getting longer and in some places deeper. Gasoline is strictly rationed, but one wouldn't know it from the knots of cars, three‐wheeled minibuses, trucks and jeeps plying the streets in a cacophony of beeps, buzzes and putts.

In the eye of the war in East Pakistan, Dacca is a mixture of calm and confusion, normality and nervousness, humor and tragedy.

The Indian Army says it has virtually encircled Dacca and has pushed into Narayanganj, only 12 miles to the southeast. But one can still pick up a Dacca telephone and dial Narayanganj, where things are reported normal. Several reporters drove there this morning and were told the fighting was at least 15 miles away.

Food rations have become smaller and prices of some goods have more than doubled, but tea is available and cheap, and old men continue to enjoy their morning cups in open‐air tea stalls. They chat and watch the parade of people walking and pushing carts, pedaling rickshas and driving cars, and the cows going by.

Near the airport, men, women, and children gawk at a 250‐pound bomb—made in the United States. It rests unexploded next to two craters on the road.

Less than a mile east of the airport, workers still pick through debris and mud for the bodies of children killed in a bombing raid in the darkness early yesterday.

No one seems to know how many bodies have been found. Some say fewer than 20, others more than 100. The rubble had been an orphanage, the workers say. It was destroyed by a direct hit from the propeller‐driven bomber that comes in the night, they say. Why would anyone want to bomb here, they ask.

The Government announced yesterday that all schools in the Dacca area were now officially closed. Few students, if any, have turned up for days anyway.

The bombings around the airport and nearby military cantonment have been going on for a week, and people are getting used to mid‐afternoon and early‐morning explosions and the accompanying chatter of antiaircraft fire. But as both the Indian Army and the bombs move closer to town, more and more people can be seen clutching bundles of belongings and heading off for their villages.

At night especially, the bombs drop closer, possibly because of Indian inaccuracy, possibly because they are now aimed at communication lines, not just t the airport and cantonment, and possibly for other reasons—the city is full of bate and rumors about this.

Many Fear Violence

Bengalis, whose native land is East Pakistan, congregate in some sections of the town including one called Old Dacca, waiting to see if what they have heard is true. What they have heard is that the guerillas fighting to form an independent Bengal nation are organizing safe passage out of town to the security of villages in “liberated” areas.

Behari Moslems and Punjabis, who are citizens of Pakistan but considered by the Bengalis to be outsiders in East Pakistan, wait and worry about possible mob violence against them. Some 300 foreigners await evacuation form the Inter‐Continental Hotel, which was declared a neutral zone under the International Red Cross yesterday. Just before 5 P.M., Red Cross banners were draped on its roof and over its sides.

“We are facing a grave situation as you well know, and furthermore it could happen rather quickly,” Sven Lampell, an official of the International Red Cross, told residents at a meeting this morning.

Two bombs, made of TNT and plastic charges, rest under sandbags on the hotel's back lawn by the swimming pool, which today, for the first time, residents are not using. The bombs were found in the dirty‐towel box in the first‐floor women's toilet yesterday afternoon and were carried out by the hotel security officer, who was applauded at the meeting.

“If you wander about, don't tread on them,” said Douglas Gill, who retired from the British Army six months ago, joined the Red Cross and was trapped here with others when the Indian air raids began.

Arms Taken From Hotel

All weapons are being removed from the hotel, which was bursting with armed Pakistanis a few days ago. Yesterday, residents turned over 11 pistols, one single-barrel shotgun and one double‐barrel shotgun, one 22‐caliber rifle and an iron pipe.

At today's meeting, a resident asked, “Is a short gun considered an arm?” Amid laughter, Mr. Gill said, “most assuredly.” Asked why room service had stopped, Mr. Lampell declared: “This is compound now.”

The truck that came to pick up the hotel garbage this morning was camouflaged with green paint, mud and leafy branches. But that didn't fool the crows, which flapped by the dozens around it and followed it out near the Dacca racecourse.

The horses continue to be exercised daily. The attendants had walked them halfway around the track yesterday shortly after noon when the Indian MIG began dropping bombs on the airport. They reared and whinnied.

Above a short letter to the editor on the kerosene shortage in yesterday's Morning News was a 700‐word letter that began: “There has recently been a lot of controversy over fashions....”