“You as if a river of rod (sun) landing on my torso”-while translating this to tell a friend how Zubeen says-often simply, intimately, innocently, romantically, melodiously, I realised that his voice and what it says have been having a home in me for long somewhere. I was unaware of it. I thought myself as a listener from far who wouldn’t mind about missing out on what the voice says. I think I grew a hopelessness about what could be told. Having a stream of melody around, even if at a distance was enough. I shared two songs from Zubeen’s second album Anamika (Untitled) with my friend. Friend said, “he sings freely frankly.” It was an instant response from an unusual listener. Hearing my friend, I recalled Zubeen saying in a song, “be water, be shapeless;” recalled him saying, “I would like to be washed away in Brahmaputra when I die.” I started thinking-‘there was a free frank stream of flow in him, spontaneous, natural that perhaps ‘naturally’ found home in most of the residents’ of Assam, irrespective of class, religion, ethnicity and gender.’ Many say ‘he is childlike.’ Maybe that is why he is spontaneous or maybe it is the other way around. But I confirmed myself that how he sang, what he sang did have a phenomenal spontaneity, a stream of melody that bound time, beings and space.
Few year ago, a colleague said, “he is extremely talented…he must sing good lyrics.” I didn’t know whether I agreed. I was more concerned about where his singing came from. However never raised that question, “from where does singing come?” If that streams from heart of melody (which is inward), can one ask “what does consist your heart?” And what if that’s a “viewpoint” (which is outward)? Does asking become easy? “What is your viewpoint?” even if one chooses to ask that easy question, would one have an answer? Zubeen referred to himself as “socialist leftist.” Somewhere he says, “I tore my sacred thread (he was born into a Brahmin family) and used it as a thread to fit well my mosquito net…I am not Brahmin! When I worked with (tribal) youths like him (referring to a friend) I realised I was tribal! I am disciple of Shiva…Shiva is a tribal god you see.” Zubeen made many such comments. Publicly. He said, “I am non-political.” The interviewer asked “but you sang the theme song for BJP this time (for Assam legislative assembly election)!” He said without any hesitation, “they paid me well. I have sung for Congress a lot in the past. Whoever offers me the most (money) I sing for them…BJP came to me first, I sang for them…simple….it is difficult to say (these days), but shall I say who I am? I am a ‘socialist-leftist.’”
But where does his singing come from?
His first album was published in 1990. The 1990s were the time when the valley of Brahmaputra witnessed long turmoil. Separatist movement launched by the United Liberation Front of Assam (ULFA) was at its peak. Army Operations were launched by the Central Government. Operation Bajrang was launched in 1990, the same year Zubeen’s first cassette came out. It was a time when regular raids would happen. Everyday life was mostly about surviving both the parties- the ULFA and the Indian Army. The few months from November 1990 to April 1991 felt like few long years. We were growing up gathering sense of our surroundings, which most of the time made no sense. A personal recollection of a morning often comes to me…I just started going school that year. That morning we went to school just to discover how the entire building was littered with banana peels, papers and other wastes (we heard a whisper ‘the army men halted here for the last night’s raid’); our teachers and we cleaned the building and that was that. We came back home. There was no class. While coming back we heard another whisper that someone was ‘raped.’ Our surroundings didn’t make sense you see. One of my (second) cousins was taken by the army along with many other young guys from the village after that raid, and later was sent to the jail. Most of households had radios, people would hear news. However, in the entire village we had not more than three cassette players. The music-lovers would listen to Bhupen Hazarika or Jayanta Hazarika. I certainly have no recollection of listening to Zubeen’s songs from his first album.
After calling off of the operation Bajrang, the Assam Legislative Assembly election took place; Hiteshwar Saikia sworn in as the Chief Minister of Assam and introduced the ‘surrender scheme’ which offered money and loan to the ULFA cadres. Many cadres surrendered. Assam’s economy took a sharp turn. Simultaneously, India opened up its economy. Though the Bodo national movement shook the valley changing drastically the “national landscape” of Assam, something changed with the opening up of economy and the ‘surrender scheme.’ It was 1992 when Zubeen’s second album, Anamika was published. There are eight songs in that album. I remember listening to them, I remember my cousins, who were teenagers and adults by now, listening to them. The village got more cassette players. The number of music lovers especially amongst the younger ones, increased significantly. I remember them fancying the guy’s image on cover of Anamika. The guy had long hair, defined, glossy lips and goodlooking. My father, who had cassette collections of Jayanta Hazarika particularly (also of Bhupen Hazarika), criticised this long haired guy for singing ‘romantic lyrics with not much meaning.’ We, me, my cousins and my sister would remain silent, but would play Anamika in our cassette player. What that new, fresh voice said didn’t matter much, we started having ‘our’ music around us, even though at a distance. (the cassettes would reach us after a long time of its publication). That’s all mattered. In retrospect, I believe that is how Zubeen started happening. And Zubeen happened to us.
Zubeen’s songs, most of it carry that bliss of ignorance. Ignorance for meaningfulness. The generation that was born in a hopeless, nonsensical world, found its music, its melody that was free flowing, tragically romantic- what else could save them? Monor Nijanot, the third song in Anamika carries that tragic romanticism. It was our solace. We didn’t hope for a voice! We perhaps hoped for a stream of melody to sail through difficult time. Zubeen gave us that, very generously. As time travelled, the hopeless world where we were born started spreading fast. It gradually encompassed the older generation. Zubeen embraced them as well, like us. He sang all sorts of songs-Borgeet, folk, romantic, modern, classical, different languages. Criticisms fainted. He bound time, beings and space. Now seeing him resting in ‘illusory night’s lap’ I am thinking his spontaneity came from the ignorance of meaningfulness and it is politically non-political, soulfully sensuous.
Prarthana