Music
THE EMPEROR FALLS
Every Friday Naima Ali's father would get up early in the morning, have his breakfast and return to his study with a steaming cup of tea. He would not be available to anyone for the rest of the morning When she peeked into his sanctuary, Naima would find her father oblivious to the world, mesmerised by the voice coming out of his small radio. Naima too began to show interest in this unique ritual of her father, and was soon allowed to share her father's joy in songs like “Mon Amar Deho Ghori.”
This chance introduction led to Naima's lifelong passion for Jari Gaan, hardly the most popular musical genre amongst Naima's young peers. But Naima is grateful. Abdur Rahman Boyati's music brought with it a sense of belonging, a feeling of rootedness. When she plays it on her laptop, that music still has the ability to take the 26-year old architect to those dear, sweet moments in her father's study.
Though the folksy rhythms of his music took one back to a different time, Abdur Rahman Bayati's full, plaintive voice was one for the ages. His songs are not inaccessible; the melodies have a charming simplicity, the lyrics are rich in colloquialisms and humour. But his art didn't pander. When he sang of the idiosyncrasies of the human heart, the words resonated with meaning and a uniquely honest beauty. His music drew us into musings of life's many mysteries, its myriad wonders. Just as Bayati had the ability to take his listeners onto a transcendental journey of spirituality, he also knew how to evoke in them a pride for their tradition, their heritage. He wooed the audience with his creative singing style, encouraging youngsters to give a listen to the dying form of folk music.
The legend being interviewed.
Noted composer Ahmed Imtiaz Bulbul asserts that Abdur Rahman Bayati developed a unique style of performing onstage. Bulbul calls Bayati a 'postmodern singer', and asserts that the legendary musician knew how to reach the audience with his voice as well as his singular performance style. Eyes closed, those silvery locks shaking, Abdur Rahman Bayati performed almost as if in a trance, as absorbed by his music as his captive audience. It was easy for him to draw the audience into his music, as his connection to his art seemed so authentic, so fully felt.
Born in 1939 in Doyaganj, Abdur Rahman Bayati was introduced to folk music by the mystic poet Alauddin Boyati. Abdur Rahman's father owned a small hotel in their native town which was frequented by musicians and singers visiting from Dhaka. This is where he first met his future mentor, who was staying there with a group of folk singers. 15-year old Abdur Rahman was mesmerized by Alauddin Boyati's craft, and joined his troupe against his father's wishes. Interestingly, he was supported in his decision by his mother, who was willing to face her husband's wrath to fulfill her son's artistic aspirations. It's small wonder that Rahman cited nature and his mother as the inspirations for his oeuvre
Abdur Rahman Bayati spent his last days in penury.
Abdur Rahman Boyati began in the fifties with just that inimitable voice and an 'ektaara', but he went on to record an astonishing number of albums and perform across the globe with his troupe. He was discovered performing on streets by noted musician Shahnawaz, who was on the lookout for promising performance for a show on the national TV channel, BTV. There has been no looking back for Abdur Rahman since then. His unique singing style and pride in his roots made the world take notice of this strange singer from a third world country. Even if they were not able to understand the language he sang in, listeners from all over the world were in sync 
with his music. This universal pull of his music was probably the reason he was invited to sing at the White House by former president of the United States, George Bush Sr, in 1990. He was also recognized with a number of honors, including the Presidency Award, the Nazrul Academy Sammanana' and the Shodesh and Shangskriti Gold Medal, among others.
In his twilight years, Boyati struggled with ill-health and financial difficulties. But even after being hospitalized, he expressed a desire to keep singing, continue performing. One wonders why this iconic performer, despite all the honour he brought our country, was faced with penury in his old age. It seems like we repeatedly take our national treasures for granted, allowing them to fade away. What won't fade away, of course, is the inheritance Boyati has left us - his music, alive with the sound and soul of our culture. He may be gone, but his voice will keep tugging at the nation's heartstrings for years to come.
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