BhupenDa – as I knew him

It was early seventies, and a Hindi was being played at the radio, "naino mein darpan hain…" from the film Aarop. Although I could not follow the complete lyric of the song, the tune was very familiar. And why not, it is the same tune in which Dr Bhupen Hazarika has sung "Tomar uxah kohua komal…" I was in school at that time, and my Dad was posted at the far-flung area called Tirap – some kilometers farther from Margherita. At Tirap we have not had any auditorium, the place was mainly inhabited by people of Nepali community, a sizeable numbers of Buddhist people and the Army base there. And we could not see Aarop then. I saw the song much later on TV.

The other day a colleague of mine asked, "Is there any romantic song by Dr Hazarika?" to which I replied that Dr Dilip Dutta has long time ago written a book on Dr Bhupen Hazarika where he categorized songs of Bhupen Hazarika and there one can find songs of all genres composed and sung by Bhupen Hazarika. (I am feeling at odd to mention his name as Bhupen Hazarika hence hereafter I will address him the way million others address him irrespective of their ages - 'BhupenDa'.)

I had the good fortune to meet BhupenDa a couple of times – although all were chance meetings. The first time I met him was at a wedding in Guwahati. He too was there, but he decided to sit with my ex-editor whom I accompanied to the wedding. I met him a couple of times during the Children's Film Festival held in Guwahati. Jaya Bachchan, lyricist-poet Gulzar too was there. Rudali was being premiered at Guwahati. I received a handwritten invitation from BhupenDa. Not that he knew me personally, but because at that time I used to write a regular column in an Assamese daily on film & theatre and all the invitations were issued by BhupenDa himself. We were there at little early, more to meet who's and who. BhupenDa greeted us as "My daughter is being married today. Thanks that you people had come."

A couple of years later he was performing at India Habitat Centre, Delhi. A classical signer was also to perform after BhupenDa. I was in the last row. Former Prime Minister Mr I.K. Gujral was also there in the audience. I still do remember, while singing his famous song "Ganga behti ho kyon…" at one point of time he got very agitated. He is like that only. Be it the Burha Luit (Brahmaputra) or Ganga – he always gets agitated asking again and again the same question, "Why are so silent?" The next day The Sentinel of Guwahati carried my article with the headline "Bhupen mesmerizes Delhi". When I phoned BhupenDa at the India Habitat Centre, he thanked me for the write-up and asked, "The other day most the people left just after I finished, huh?" I said, "Yes BhupenDa. They were there mainly for you." "But that is not right. The other singer is also equally talented, and people should respect that."

BhupenDa has sung songs of all kinds. If agnijugor finingoti moi… is a revolutionary song, tuamr henu naam patralekha… is a romantic song, and manuhe manuhor babe… is a song for mankind. He is a balladeer. Yesterday only while reading an article of my journalist friend Kishalay Bhattacharjee I learnt that BhupenDa was also a war correspondent. And today, another friend Gayatri, told me that it is during his days as war correspondent that he saw some 57-dead bodies of Indian soldiers at Tawang, and after coming down to Guwahati he sang that song that still sends goosebumps to me, koto jowanor mrityu hol, kar jeewon jaubon gol, hei mrityu oporajeyo, tene mritok noholu moi kiyo… at All India Radio without any rehearsal.

BhupenDa was a humanist. He was (I don't know if the word 'was' is appropriate since musically he will always be there!) a poet, a lyricist, a composer, what not! He had a special capacity to captivate the audience. He always used to talk to the audience.

Every individual, not only in Assam but in Bengal too, has something or the other to say about BhupenDa. Each of them does not need to know BhupenDa personally, but they are all influenced by him by one way or the other. I do remember, when I was in Class Four and we were staying at Lahowal Block, Mama used to say, "If BhupenDa makes a round of our block, by the time he finishes his round – he will be ready with a song." He had that capacity. The koto jowanor mirtyu hol… is an example to that.

As Gulzar Saheb has said, "To understand Bhupen Hazarika's music one has to listen to his original Assamese songs." I can never get tires of listening to his songs. Almost everyday, during lunch time, I play his music at my workstation. Sometime I listen the same song in Assamese, Bengali and in Hindi too.

BhupenDa fought for humanism. His songs, Dola he dola…, Manuhe manuhor babe, aamai ekjon saada manush dao jar rokto saada… are all for humanism. And who can forget his famous Bengali rendition Sarat babu, khula chithi dilam tumar kaase…With BhupenDa gone, I don't think a great musician, a great composer has gone. Because I don't know who will now sing a song like 'we are in the same boat brother'! He left us orphaned.

I am lucky

I am lucky. I got reconnected with an old and dear friend of mine.

My friend was upset with me for reasons beyond our control and situations created by our common friends, friends for whom there can be only relationship between two people of the opposite sex.

Although I was not in regular touch with my old friend, I always used to remember this friend of mine who was more a sibling then a friend to me, who was always helpful to me. This is one friend, I can vouch for, who really used to care for me.

But yesterday when I sent a friendship request through Face Book, my friend responded immediately, and that makes me a lucky person today.

Thank you Maani, for being there for me, always. The way you care for me, you know, I too care for you.

ShonitDa, RanelDa, Abir and Kamna bou

I have not met any of them but I do know them, and I think I know them well. Shonit Das is a common friend of Mitra Baideo (Phukan) and that’s how we came across and became friend through Facebook. Through Shonit Das I became a friend of Ranel Kumar Das. Abir is ShonitDa’s son and Kamna bou is Abir’s mother who recently passed away.

I have seen all of their photos on the Facebook. All of them (except Kamna Bou) lives in the US of A. Shonit Da and Ranel Da are great buddies. Very fun loving. Whenever I talk to them, they make me forget the loss of my elder brother.

Kamna bou passed away on 15 December 2010. She was suffering from cancer for five years. January 4 was her birth day. I have seen loving tributes by Shonit Da, Abir and Ranel Da. In fact Ranel Da immediately after the passing away of Kamna Bou changed his profile picture and put one of his along with Kamna Bou and said that this will his profile picture till he is there. I wish he is there as along as along as I am. They are all very fond of Kamna Bou. Shonit Da has said to someone that Mr George called him, but he could not take the call as precisely at that very particular minute he was counting Kamna Bou’s last few seconds.

Shonit Da was lucky to be beside the person he loves so much. Whenever I think of the ‘last few seconds’, I think about losing my brothers Twis and Twin. The first one elder and the other are younger. Kaka was a dear to Abba and Twin was Ma’s fav. I am the middle one. Unfortunately I have not been able to any damn thing for them. Twin passed away on the night of 25^th April 1983. A student of class Ten, he was running away from the cops since he was also the General Secretary of the local students union and the Assam movement was at its peak at that time. I was in Diphu (Karbi Anglong) and Kaka was also studying in Diphu. Around February 1983 Twin was arrested for setting the house of local Congress candidate’s house on fire. When he came out of the jail after a fortnight, Kaka asked me to take care of Twin but I did not listen to him. And Twin too decided to carry on his fight against the administration as well as against illegal immigrants.

Because of the police Twin rarely used to spend the night at home. He was also to stay that fateful night on someone’s house. He was waiting for the dinner, and then someone called him. Ma was ready with the dinner. But Twin did not return. It was the next morning when Ma saw his body hanging in the kitchen of another staff’s house. At that time our family used to live in Kamargaon near Numaligarh although Abba was posted at an interior place called Bonkowal. Our family was waiting for the Twin’s class Ten exam to be over. And very surprisingly, on that very particular day, all three staff of the Kamargaon Veterinary Hospital was on leave, and Twin’s body was found hanging in the kitchen of one of the staff. Kaka, on hearing the news told me, “I told you before to take care of Twin and you did not. Otherwise this would not have happen”. When I reached home, Twin’s body was lying there, after the post-mortem, outside, for the last bath before the burial.

28 years has gone, and I am still hearing those words of Kaka that I am only responsible for Twin’s death. And I will never be able to forget this. I will never be able to forgive me for Twin’s death.

Kaka passed away ten years later. I was in The Sentinel at that time in Guwahati. Kaka was in Sibsagar with his family. He had two sons – Pinku and Rinku. His posting was somewhere in Karbi Anglong. Fifteen days of work and fifteen days rest. Next day he was supposed to go for duty. On that particular day he decided to drop Pinku and Rinku at school, and while coming back from the school he was hit by a scooterist, and died the same evening at Dibrugarh Medical College due to brain hemorrhage. That was 25 August 1993.

Next day around lunch-time Pabitra, our peon told me that there was phone call for me and the message was that Kaka had an accident and is in Dibrugarh. Pabitra have not had all the details. I was a little confused. We live in Dergaon, Kaka in Sibsagar, his workplace is Karbi Anglong, and how the hell he could have an accident in Dibrugarh! But I was ready to take the opportunity to take a couple of days leave on this pretext.

Everyone in The Sentinel, including my editor Dhiren Bezboruah, director Bhaitida (Sandeep Rajkhewa), general manager P.L. Senapati any my colleagues were all eager to send me home immediately. The stupid mind of mine who normally woks overtime, on that day never thought – even for once – why are they so eager to send me home! Bezboruah Sir’s son-in-law was there at Dibrugarh Medical College and a good surgeon. I took telephone numbers of all the doctors and persons who could help me in Dibrugarh, and in the evening went to Sibsagar. I thought Sibsagar is the best place for me to get all the information.

And the moment I got down from the rickshaw in the morning of 27 August, I was told, “What are you doing here? He died day before yesterday”.

Again, when I reached home, Kaka’s body was there, after the post-mortem, for the last bath before burial.

I thought 2003 was my time. But that did not happen.

Abba, Ma is still in Dergaon, counting their last days. I am not being able to go home for the last four years. Every time whenever the telephone rings, my heartbeat increases, expecting the unexpected.

That’s why I said that Shonit Da was lucky to be beside Kamna Bou in her last few seconds. And for me, as Kaka said if I would have listened to him, perhaps Twin would not have gone on that day. Perhaps he would have still been around us. And for Kaka, in spite of having too many contacts, a little influence because of the newspaper tag, I was just a helpless guy! And now, although being the only son, after Kaka and Twin took shortcuts, I am not there with my parents!

No, I cannot forgive myself. I am too lucky to have brothers like Shonit Da and Ranel Da. They are also very fond of me since they don’t know what I am, what I am to my family. I cannot even cry. The tears stopped rolling down from my eyes long ago. They too are not with me any more. Except at times when I listen to some sentimental songs, memories come back to, they haunts me. My pain and sorrow are my earnings, and they will always be there with me.

The Philosopher and the Lunatic

“You’ve been left with what now? Nothing.”

Yes, it’s true. I have been left with nothing to say as my own. Ever since I started blogging, even my thoughts are not my own anymore. It is like Kahlil Gibran saying ‘your children are not your own’.

Does this men that I am all alone now? What is the definition of loneliness? Is it a state of mind? Or just being alone is called loneliness? Is it really necessary to be with the people or our own choice? What if they doesn’t feel the same?

Is it an offence to try to fill the emptiness? They would say, No. But when we try to the emptiness, the same people will stand up and say, “No, you can’t do this.”

Then, to try to stay alone is again called as ‘running away from the truth’.

I am scared.

I am scared to speak up my mind. Perhaps if I would have been able to do that, it would have helped me in relieving my mind. But I am scared that they will interpret in a way convenient to them, and that is not going to do me any good.

Why cannot I be like some other happy-go-lucky people? Am I taking life a little too seriously? Sometime I even think, ‘enough is enough. Why not take a short trip and ask the creator why it is so?’ But is he there? If he indeed is, and he created everything, is this what his creations are supposed to be?

They say that I am becoming a philosopher! What is a philosopher? If my asking a question about myself makes me a philosopher, isn’t that something that everyone does at some point of the time?

Luckily my mind is still active to think these absurd things. And my fingers are also equally active to pen it down. I don’t know if it is worth reading by anyone, but before I meet Jahangir Khan, I must record my thoughts.

To record the Truth

What is Truth?

What I see and believe is true to me, but is it truth? It is also said that, what one sees and hers is not always the truth! What is truth then? What is true to me may not be have the same meaning for the other person. Is there difference between Truth and True?
Does is also have a time frame? What is true today, can it be not-true tomorrow?

At the church the groom whole-heartedly and from the bottom of his heart said, “I do.” But the same husband is later accused of killing his wife, which he indeed did. Which one is to be believed?

What do I do with the person who used to tell me her problems, seek suggestions, helps, and now does not even want to talk to me? Why should I be friend to the person who is partying with the same group of people against whom she complained to me, and I stood for her? (Does it sounds like someone being ditched.)

I used to tell people, “Please, try not to hurt me even unknowingly, not to talk about hurting me knowingly. One is welcome to be my friend, but if I get hurt somehow, it will be difficult for me to forgive & forget.” And, they DID hurt me. And, knowingly. What do I do now? I am also a human being! Is this what I am supposed to get? Is this what I have asked for? Or am I being taken for ride by the people who I thought are my friends and well wishers?

What is life? What life has to offer? Is just not being dead called ‘alive’? For whom are we living? Are we living for ourselves or for others? If living for oneself is called selfish, why do we have to live for others? Is this not applies to others also? If everyone is living & loving for the other, who is there for me? Is seeking a little love from live is too demanding?
“Socha nahin acha bura
Dekha suna kuch bhi nahin
Manga Khuda sey her waqt
Teray siwa kuch bhi nahin…”

Can one control his emotions? Should we hide our emotions? I don’t know. I don’t even know how to hide one’s emotions. I am an emotional person, very sentimental person. My feelings are visible in me, and I don’t try to hide it. I am as readable as newspaper.

John Lenon said, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” Then what wrong have I done if I too have dreamt? If dreamers are to be dealt with capital punishment, then words like bed, sleep, dream, etc. should not have featured in the dictionary even.

I am not a loner, but I do feel lonely at time. Recently, at the office when I felt lonely, people started asking me about my family. But I think, being alone is not lonely. Loneliness is a state of mind. One can and feel, and be lonely even in a jam-packed stadium.

Who is a friend? Even the shadow gets lost when it is darkened! To say if from Asha Bhonsle’s ghazal,
“Dil dharekna ka sabab yaad aya, wo teri yaad thi ub yaad aya…”

Sometime even Chitra Singh makes me cry when I hear her singing,
“Jab naam tera pyar se
Likhti hain ungliya,
Meri taraft zamane ki
Uthti hain ungliya…”

19 August 2010

Zia at her new new school

Zia, my four-years-old daughter has just started going to school.

She is very happy. A new school, new Madam, new friends, new uniforms! Perhaps it is the same with every kid. Zia's schooling changed our daily life. Instead of watching TV till late hours, now we have to switch off all sources of lights by 10 p.m. and go to bed.

I have to get up by 5-30 in the morning. I woke up Zia at 6. She does not make a fuss about getting up early. She needs a lot of time to finish her breakfast. From getting up to feed her breakfast, and make her ready for school is my unofficial duty. I enjoy doing that. I am sure all other father must also be enjoying doing this as much as I do. Perhaps some of them do much more.

I heard people telling, let a baby come; it will change your life. How true it is. She really changed our lives. Now, we have only one topic to discuss - Zia. But she is very naughty. She is becoming arrogant. Things she will do what we ask her not to do. Sometime, she is very good, but at times, she just won’t listen to anything. The best part about Zia is that, she is very caring. Anytime, we say about some problem, she will immediately come forward to help us. We feel in heaven palms tries to give us a massage. She might be having some kind of magic in her hands.

Sometime when we cannot control her, I give her one or two my dose! That works. But it also pains us that we had to spank our little daughter! She is very particular about dressing up. She never lets me go out in shorts. 'This does not match, wear that one', she always says.

She feels that I cannot dress her up properly. And, therefore, every time I dress her up, she will run to my wife and say, “Look what D has done! Is this how it should be?”

The other day I was playing chess with a friend of mine, and Zia said that she know how to play the chess. She asked to get a chess board for her, and she will teach me and Omi how to play chess.

In the PTM her teacher always says, she is not only naughty but is also spoiling other kids. But other than that she is a wonderful child. She does everything so perfect.

Zia’s teacher and our family doctor said that Zia would not have been naughty if she would have had a sibling. But we think that we are blessed that we have Zia. We don’t need anything else.

Jahangir Khan.

How much I know about Jahangir is difficult for me to say, but yes I do know him quite That does not mean that I am his friend. We are pals for a very long time. We used to share our feelings, express our ideas. He is thirty years old, single. He likes to listen to anything that is soothing. But most of the time he listens to ghazals of Jagjit Singh & Chitra Sngh, and of Mehdi Hasans. But his all time favourite is ‘woha kaun he tera musafir, jayega kahan’ by S.D. Burman from the Hindi film Guide.

Jahangir works in a media house. But he does not like to read newspapers. For him newspapers repeats the same story again and again. Only the names and figures got changed. If yesterday in a bomb blast eight dies in Kabul, today in another bomb last some others got killed in Ukraine. For Jahangir there is no difference in these two news ‘Why’, Jahangir asks, ‘why do we always have to say how many died and how did they die. Why can we not say, how many lives we saved, and how we saved so that someone else can also think of someone’s life?’

Jahangir prefers to read advertisement. He says, at least the advertisements says about some new development, be it a product ad or a tender notice. At least there is some news.

I saw Jahangir roaming endlessly in the city. In his free time he likes to watch people of different class that their varied reaction to the same incident.

Although he does not like beggars on the street, he was very excited to see the four-year-old child insisting in helping a beggar. Jahangir says, humanity has not disappeared.

His grandfather named him Jahangir, the one who rules the world. His mother used to call him Jahan. For her, he is her world. But even in a crowd Jahangir feels lonely. He wonders, how lonely a person can be!

I know sometime Jahangir cries. He cries silently. He cries for his loneliness. He cries for not being able to share his feelings with anyone. He cries because he feels that there is no one who really understood him. He cries, because even if he wants to take a break from his daily life, he has no place to go.

Once Jahangir applied for leave from his office. His asking leave itself is a news in the organization where he worked. When his boss asked, what he intends to do with the 'indefinite period of leave', Jahangir said that he wants to go to somewhere where there is no news, no religion, no class. He wants to go somewhere where there is no black and white, and everyone is equal. He wants to go where everyone lives his own life.

Puzzled, I asked Jahangir, is there any such place on earth! And Jahangir said that there is. He wants to go to the mental asylum for some time, how long, he does not know. He says that there cannot be a better place to live in peace and with oneness other than the mental asylum.

I have not seen or heard of Jahangir. He did not even go back to his work either. I don't know whether he really went to a mental asylum, or if he had gone, is he still there or not. I don't know if he is at all alive or not. But I am not giving up my hope. I am still looking for my friend Jahangir.