Jhumur Blues

https://soundcloud.com/neelav-bose/jhumur-blues

Those were the days I thought would never end. Round neck tee, blue ( only blue) tattered Levi denim, long hair and a head full of idealism... friends, more friends, new friends... Nandan, New Empire, Globe, Canteen, cheap burnt tea, Calcutta book fair, Mohiner Ghoraguli,  Bengali Rock, Neruda, reverse snobbery, love, Central metro station, College square, Coffee house....

Its during this neo - semi - pseudo - intellectual vagabond days that I kind of discovered baul music. Calcutta at that time was also experimenting with Folk and Rock and their fusion. Somehow it all made a lot of sense. Every April there used to be a music fair in the Nandan square featuring music of every genre. The year was probably 1999 when in one of the shows I saw Kartik das baul and heard him perform this song. My friend Sourav was there too. We saw a lot of strange things and didn't know how to react.. we saw Sadhan Das Boiragi, a very senior baul having Coco Cola in a coconut vessel ( mala), we saw a Japanese baul etc.. I was mesmerised with the rawness and purity of the performances of these baul. Anyway coming back to Kartik das Baul, after his performance we caught him backstage and pleaded with him to share the lyrics of this particular Jhumur song ( form of folk song and dance). No sooner did we plead that he started rattling off the lyrics and we somehow managed to note down two stanzas. Incidentally I lost the note soon after, but the lyrics were so heart wrenching and haunting and mesmerising that they were kind of etched in my memory for life. Later on I rearranged the song and set it to a madol ( traditional Santal drum) rhythm... The blues intro came much later.

This song continues to haunt me today as it did back then and is one of my favourite songs. Incidentally this song was the last song I recorded before my heart literally skipped a beat :)

To Barun Biswas

They came each night

bearing evil,

breathing fire

seated on dragon’s tail.

But like King David

he stood, steadfast and holy

in the face of degeneration

which consumes us slowly.

St. George

could not have done better, but alas

a brave beautiful soul was lost forever.

The one I trust

I have know him since the day he joined the organization I was working for at the time, almost a decade back. He always stood out amongst his peer group for various reasons and for reasons unknown and not fully understood, a strong bond was formed that has only grown stronger over the last many years. He is not without flaws but his virtues far outweigh these shortcomings. One thing is for sure, he knows how to bring a smile on anyone’s face. He gets along well with people of any age for example my son who is barely 2 yrs, me a fossil and my parents who are ancient. Sanjit is unique.

Most people unfortunately know him only as a musician of exceptional caliber (of which there is no doubt), however I am not going to deliberate on that but rather say a few words about him as a person. I do not know of many men who love his family and cares about his parents as much as him. His father is an exceptional individual too. He along with his family has see rough times and therefore his success now is all the sweeter and deservedly so. He hasn’t however lost his humility and I certainly hope he never does so.

Many an evening we have spent jamming (Sanjit singing and us listening), drinking (whiskey in a pink plastic glass), eating (pork) and being merry. Parties at his place have always been epic and enjoyable. Made a lot of friends, good friends at these impromptu parties- Tony, Mickey in particular…

Anyway his life certainly has taken a turn for the better after Farah came into his life and the parties at his place have become even more enjoyable with Farah being a perfect host. Great food, great ambience, plenty to drink and general informal bonhomie… suddenly the guitar appears and music takes over… all in all a few hours of bliss with friends and family in a wonderfully done up home.

Writing all of this because I have seen him grow over the years from a small town lad to someone who is doing great in the hallooed west. From a bachelor to a married man. From Sanjit to Mr. Phukan… I wish him the best for the future and wait for the next party with all our friends who were missed this time.. Mahbubani, Nayyar, D, Vyom, Mallika, Mickey …. Also realized that all my good friends are way younger than me J. Never got along with people my age anyways, they are old and boring !

Visions of Potala

On this pristine clear day, under a clear blue sky, with the winter chill across our faces we sat quietly in the mellow morning sun in the courtyard of what is now the defacto headquarter of the Tibetian government in exile - the Namgyal Monastry. We sat, watched and wondered. Not a word was spoken till I asked baba, why is it that I do not feel so strongly about my homeland ... Our homeland... In Bangladesh ... Kumilla, on the banks of the mighty Meghna river? Yet here we are at this Monastry where third generation children are so full of faith, in a mere human being and in a Monastry in a distant land that they or their fathers have never seen - Potala palace. Some going to the extent of immolating themselves for this.
"Perhaps because when we were forced out by partition we came to a place where the language, culture, cuisine were the same. In a way it was like moving from one room of the house to the other and yet it was so so different and difficult. From landed feudals we were refugees overnight..no asset, no address no identity.. Where as for the Tibetians it was far worse, to have had to settle in a land that they had no idea of, it was like moving from one room to another room in another house in another timescape, in another country... Their loss is far worse, far hard hitting, far cruel than ours " said baba.
True baba made a lot of sense, I have no idea about our roots in Bangladesh and frankly I don't care. But the Tibetians in exile stand to lose everything ... Culture, history, tradition, language...their existence is in jeopardy. Yet they believe that one day they will return to the promised land, that the sacrifices of the martyrs will not go in vain. Yet all the strife and struggle and protest and resistance is peaceful... Can't say that about any other religion in the world. My respects...