SOULFUL KUSHTIA

My friends and I made a sudden plan for a Kushtia trip just the day before we went. We got the AC bus tickets from S.B. Paribahan's counter in Kalyanpur, Dhaka. Lightly packing our bags, we set off early the next morning, but the Sunday morning traffic of Dhaka almost made us miss the bus. It took us some six hours to reach Kushtia town. We checked into a nearby hotel, called Hotel Noor, renting a room for the four of us for a night. As soon as we got into the room though, we noticed two things: there were two wall-mounted fans that barely rotated, and there was a free WiFi sign on the wall. Yay, WiFi!

The sole reason for our trip was to have a musical experience, going as close to the inspirations of Tagore and Lalon as possible. After lunch and some rest, we set out for Shilaidaha, where Rabindra Kuthibari is situated. Thankfully we had a car at our service, so the 12 km journey took us about 40 minutes. But before entering the premises, we tried the famous kulfi of Kushtia, costing Tk 30 apiece. I have never tasted anything so addictively sweet, and would gladly choose that any day over the finest gourmet ice creams of Dhaka.

The red Kuthibari stood right in front of us, in vivid contrast against the clouded sky. Unfortunately, the establishment is closed on Sundays, so we couldn't actually see the room where Tagore would sometimes stay and write, but we were allowed to roam around. Walking about the grounds that Tagore frequented, we came across a pond with a large boat. Beside the pond, in a small clearing under the trees, sat a group of baul musicians led by an aged, visually impaired vocalist, who started playing some Tagore songs. They paused
after the first song, making small talk with us, asking us humbly whether we were enjoying the music. The group then continued with more Rabindra Sangeet, pausing occasionally to comment on the songs' meaning, to talk about Tagore's life and works, to ask us if we were still intrigued.

The modesty these bauls possessed, and the beauty with which they executed the songs were humbling. Watching and hearing them render the songs, you knew they were feeling the words and tunes to their core. The songs of rain and love made much more sense with a soft drizzle. We literally lost track of time. Some 8-9 songs later, we had to bid farewell to these musicians. We offered them a small remuneration, which the blind baul received with utmost humility, and they all asked us to visit them again. On our way out, we bought ektara as souvenirs.

Still hung over on Tagore's lyrics and tunes, we headed back to the town, where Lalon's Akhra is situated. We entered the premises just as it was getting dark, mostly due to the clouds. Walking around the grounds and the museum, we stumbled across another local baul. We asked him whether we could listen to some music; he agreed, but informed right away that we need to pay them. A little crestfallen due to the contrast in behaviour from the ones we met at Kuthibari, we agreed regardless.

The man took us to a shaded part of the building, gathered his people and started singing, just as rain came crashing around us, and the electricity went out with the raging storm. They sung songs of equality and humanity -- values at the core of Lalon's music. The metaphors of these songs eluded us at times, but otherwise awed us. We only got to listen to five songs as the singers had to stop due to Maghrib prayer time, but thankfully they played our favourite songs as per our request. It was moving to see their love for Lalon's music, and how they portrayed each emotion to perfection.

We got back to the hotel afterwards, but made it a priority to have a sweet that's a specialty of Kushtia, the name of which I honestly cannot recall now. We left for Dhaka early the next morning with memory cards full of pictures of the places we visited and videos of the music we heard live, some ektara, and a lot of fond memories. Whoever says hastily planned trips don't work is wrong.

PHOTOS: JONAIDE ASHIK HOSSAIN & RIDWAN ADID RUPON