At the Confluence of Seas, The Irreplaceable Legend and Velvet Voice find a resting place

Spanning the centuries, Dr. Bhupen Hazarika has taken his place among
the handful of visionaries and revolutionaries who have sustained
Assam even in the worst of times, brought joy in times of sadness and
pain, bolstered our spirits and shared their creative genius with
millions, not only at home but across the world.  He joins that tiny
band of Assam’s truly great — Shrimanta Sankardeva, Lachit Barphukan,
Lakhminath Bezbaruah,  Rupkonwar Jyoti Prasad Agarwalla, Kalaguru
Bishnu Rabha  and Gopinath Bardoloi.

There may be others, unsung, unheard and unknown – but for us these
remain the icons, the legends of the past and today. And it was
because of his persistence as head of the Sahitya Kala Parishad that
Srimanta Sankardeva’s Satriya is today recognized as one of India’s
‘national’ dance forms.

To millions he was simply ‘Bhupen da’, including those of the younger
generation who have never seen him barring on television and the small
screens nor heard him live – but on CDs and DVDs. I was privileged to
call him ‘khura’, partly because of his closeness in the 1960s to my
parents, the late Chaitanya Nath Hazarika and Maya Hazarika of
Shillong, and their mutual respect and affection.

Those millions paid their respects at Guwahati and every town and
village of Assam, it appears. In Guwahati,  lakhs of people, young and
old, the rich and the poor, the fit and the fat, the infirm and the
healthy, stood in line patiently for hours through the day and night
to pay homage.  Many wept but many more were singing his songs of
humanity and equality, his political signature
tunes, which have become part of our folklore and history. They came
not just from every corner and isolated village of Assam but from
towns and hamlets across the North-east and further. As we know, songs
were played through day and night over public address systems on every
street of
Guwahati and other parts of Assam from the time of his death.

It was as he had sung, in his unforgettable Sagar Songramat or ‘At the
Confluence of Seas’, where he had never tired of swimming.
I was especially privileged to work with him and Kalpana Lajmi, who
took care of him with fierce affection, in a documentary series on the
North-east where my collaboration developed when the great man called
and asked me to help.  Could anyone say no to him?

His haunting melodies torment yet inspire us.  They flow across the
world, on our mobile ring tones, our personal collections, our
memories and experiences.

Many of us called him the Bard of the Brahmaputra.  But he was more
than that – he was a passionate fighter for rights, for the poor
(notice how both his early and also the later songs drive home the
messages of equality, humanity and brotherhood even in times of pain
and tragedy) and who believed in the importance of means over ends.
But he was also an incorrigible optimist and even a prankster.

Let me recall a wonderful evening, some years in Tezpur, where a small
group gathered in the elegant drawing room of the (now late) Dr. Robin
and Dr. Laksmi Goswami (Baideau), a couple who were very close to
Bhupen Hazarika, sipping drinks and listening to a long- time
politician recount one of his favorite anecdotes in the Assam
Assembly.

The politician spoke of how a mischief-making MLA had got another
opposition member, who was quite easy to sway, to challenge the then
leader of the opposition, Dulal Baruah, in the House on a point of
order. An outraged Baruah thundered at his backbencher to shut up, but
the instigator was not done yet. ’Press on a point of order,’ he
hissed at his wavering colleague.

‘Point of Order!’ yelled the now-defiant member, who was once again
stumped when the Speaker asked him, quite legitimately, ’on what
grounds?’

He fumbled, but then his friend whispered again, ‘Say, bad grammar.’

‘Bad grammar, sir,’ suggested the legislator.

The House dissolved in laughter as Dulal Baruah turned purple with
rage and gazed balefully at his two tormenters.

The name of the questioner is not important, but there is much to be
said of the mischief-maker, who was no other than Bhupen Hazarika.

His internationalism (or ’regionalism’) went further than the
brilliant velvet baritone that captured all who listened in a magical
embrace. His signature Nepali cap and the khukri pin that adorned
the topi were other symbols of his South Asianness — indeed the
first ‘South Asian’ figure that the magazine Himal, published from
Katmandu, wrote about in its first issue in its new avatar as a ‘South
Asian’ magazine was Bhupen da and I was privileged to write it.

There is a demand for the Bharat Ratna for Dr. Hazarika. But
as one of my relatives recently blogged, “Let the mandarins of Delhi
keep their awards and wear them round their necks, if they so wish.”
They’ve missed the opportunity to share respect, failed again to move
in time to accord him the dignity that the people of the region – and
I include the larger region here, of the NER, Bangladesh, West Bengal
and Nepal – have always given him. Everything will be too little, too
late – as usual.

In contrast, Dhaka’s recognition of Bhupen Hazarika by honouring him
with the country’s highest civilian award shows how misconceived and
prejudiced have been Indian comprehensions of our neighbouring
country. We have failed to distinguish between the agendas of
government security agencies and the goodwill of people.  But why
Bangladesh?
Bhupen Hazarika was cherished in Dhaka as much as he is in Guwahati.
His song on the war of Bangladesh’s freedom, Joi Joi Naba Jata
Bangladesh (hail the newborn Bangladesh), is a stirring marching tune,
which was on every Bengali’s lips during those harrowing days as that
momentous struggle for liberation
gathered strength and inspired the battle for freedom.  And when
Bangladesh was born, he was welcomed there like a hero.
As we all know,  his songs were not limited to Assamese and Bengali,
and his rich baritone was equally at ease in Hindi, Urdu and English.

He was without doubt one of the greatest living cultural communicators
of the region, swaying millions with the power and passion of his
voice, and the message of universal brotherhood and humanism. His
genius for weaving a magical tapestry out of traditional Assamese
music and lyrics, breathing new life into the language, synthesizing
old and new strands of music, and instilling a sense of pride among
the inhabitants of the Brahmaputra
valley.

The waterways of Assam were the source of inspiration for his lyrics
all these years. ‘The Brahmaputra is the lifeline of Assam,’ he said.
One of his notable collaborations for Doordarshan was Luit Kinare (by
the banks of the Luit), a mosaic of ordinary tales that was both
cheerful and poignant.

Whereas he was a legend in Eastern India for decades, it was his
compositions including Dil Hoom Hoom Kare (translated from Buku hom
hom kore in Moniram Dewan nearly 40 years earlier) for Rudali which
won Hazarika recognition across the subcontinent; it was a recognition
which came very late in life.

Perhaps the best example of the humanistic ideals that imbue his works
is Manuhe Manuhar Babe (for man), composed in 1964. Should that not
become Assam’s national song today? To be sung, as one lady said in an
interview on the street, to be broadcast at bus and railways stations,
at namghars and melas, at airports, in trains and buses?  This is the
need of the hour – if we do not care for our fellow human beings, will
that not make us less human?  That is what we need to hear in Assam at
a time of strife and a crisis when our diversity threatens to
overwhelm, not unite us.
Therefore, at such a time, it also behoves us to remember others who
were far less known but who also struggled for the language and the
people, such as the late Dipika Chakravarty of Jorhat who recently
died at the age of 80. This ‘silent worker’ in the literary field, as
she has been described, translated some of the truly great Bengali
novels into Assamese.
Like many others, I have spent these days lighting lamps, listening to
his music and songs and realizing how mighty a figure has fallen; the
comprehension is sinking in that he is irreplaceable. Such a person
may not come again for centuries.
Elsewhere I have written that while Srimanta Sankardeva brought value,
equality and a touch of the divine into the lives of ordinary people;
Lachit Barphukan embodied the spirit of valour and determination to
fight for our country; Lakhminath Bezbaruah brought music to the
language and restored it to vibrancy; Rupkonwar Jyoti Prasad Agarawala
and Kalaguru Bishnu Rabha brought energy and humanity while Gopinath
Bardoloi fought for unity and Assam’s survival as well as her role in
free India.
Bhupen Hazarika was at the confluence of these great streams, bringing
them together in his unique way, spanning five centuries in a
lifetime, endowing humanity and equality as his principles and
symbols.
The Bard of the Brahmaputra has fallen silent but he remains among us
through his songs, his music, his films, his convictions and his love
for Assam. Just by being amongst us, he enriched us — and single
handedly did more for Assam and the region than all politicians,
agitators and ‘underground’ groups, media and all of us collectively.

To paraphrase Nehru’s Tryst with Destiny speech:  ‘The song and music
have gone out of our lives and there is silence everywhere. ‘
The Lohit still flows but where is its singer, the
interpreter of its maladies? Perhaps, the jajabor has finally found
a resting place.

 

Assam Tribune, Wed, Nov 16, 2011
By the Brahmaputra By Sanjoy Hazarika