Bengali Music and it’s Evolution
A reflective exploration of the evolution of Bengali music in the twentieth century, tracing its shift from classical traditions to poetic self-expression.
Growing up in a home where listening to Bengali music from the forties, fifties, and sixties of the bygone twentieth century was intricately connected to everyday life led me to see it as more than a leisure activity. As far as my memory goes back to my childhood days, I remember my mother’s morning would begin by listening to the compact disc records of eminent singers like Manna Dey, Utpala Sen, S.D Burman and Pratima Bandopadhyay, to name a few. Her absolute heartthrob was Hemanta Mukhopadhyay’s voice. Hemanta and his contemporaries’ songs were not only a melody to her ears. It was a nostalgia of her younger days when she would reminisce about her first encounter with these artists through radio. She would tell all sorts of popular stories about their lives, their friendships or rivalries with each other and various anecdotes. Therefore, listening to their songs was not just about lending an ear to the compositions. The songs would speak to me of a time when these musical creations and performances started taking place, a time I have never witnessed and could only get a sense of through the records. It gradually led to my curiosity about the phenomenon in Bengali musical culture. Listening to the forties and fifties songs left me pondering the question: What were the possibilities through which the journey of the popular Bengali songs began? This is not to say that Bengali music followed a linear dimension of continuity throughout the decades. However, even within the frictions, the aim is to locate the origin of the discourse around Bengali popular music of the preceding century. Here, I will provide an overview of the ideas and practices that emerged around Bengali music in the second half of the twentieth century.
Crafting a Musical Dialogue-
Rabindranath Tagore’s brilliant essay, “Sangeeter Mukti” (Freedom of Music), published in 1917, is probably a pertinent example which clearly articulates a change in the thoughts and practices of Bengali music. He asserted, “The golden stick has touched our idle mind today. We are not satisfied solely with consumption, we need self-expression. We have been acquainted with a new phenomenon in literature. Paintings have also broken the shackles of old traditions to express diversity through self-expression. Therefore, it is clear that we have stepped out from the old confinements… Our literature, science, philosophy, and painting have all freed themselves from stagnancy. Now, in this scenario, it would not be possible to free music from its old shackles if it does not position itself along the global path” (translation mine). From this argument, we can see that he was critiquing the practices carried on by the musical experts and emphasizing a change in the emerging modern culture. His critique of the music Ustads and Pandits was that their creation and practice no longer had relevance to the contemporary generation. Music should be able to speak to people about their lives, their emotions, and their desires, shaped by the socio-cultural milieu. The lyrics and musical arrangement, therefore, should be in tandem with their own time. To achieve this, one needs to open oneself to the outside world and embrace the ideas and values of the current practices. I am referencing Tagore’s views on Bengali music because he encouraged a shift away from the court and salon music traditionally performed by Ustads, as this style was becoming less relevant starting in the twentieth century. One of the reasons for the waning significance of court and salon music was that it was created for the entertainment of an elite section. However, when music became accessible to the public primarily through the proscenium theatre, gramophone shellac discs and radio, it became important to represent their aesthetic needs. Therefore, songs should be able to speak to people about their inner desires and emotions. The popular musical discourse in Bengal from the twentieth century, particularly from the 1920s onwards, was built up partly on Tagore’s idea.
Shaping the journey-
By discussing Tagore, let me now move on to the practices that shaped Bengali music during the aforementioned time. Musicologist Rajeswar Mitra has precisely articulated the essence of Bengali music during the twentieth century in the chapter “Bingsho Shatabdir Bangla Gaan” (Bengali Songs of the Twentieth Century) in his book Prashanga: Bangla Gaan (1989). He pointed out that music in the late nineteenth century was solely based on the structure of Ragas. However, from the twentieth century onwards, Bengali songs started giving more significance to the literary essence and came to be broadly described as Kavyasangeet (poetic music). The poetic elements in the songs led to the self-expression of the creators. Songs were no longer needed to be fixated on a particular raga. The poetic essence added a meaningful resonance to the music by recognizing the lyric’s central bhaav (feeling). If we accept Mitra’s speculation, then we see that Bengal, during this time, was flourishing in literature. The synergy between literary growth and musical expression allowed a profound engagement with emotions and experiences. Poets, writers and musicians were often intertwined, drawing inspiration from one another. Such a practice led to an atmosphere where Kavyasangeet became a form of self-expression. One of the most prominent examples is the celebrated Bengali poet, Premendra Mitra( 1904-1988), who worked as a lyricist in Bengali cinema from 1939 till 1960. To elaborate on the poetic essence, let me translate a few lines of the song “Chand Jodi Nahi Othe”(1939) (If the moon does not rise) from the film Rikta in 1939. The lyricist of this song was Premendra Mitra, and the music was composed by the famous Bhismadev Chattopadhyay and was rendered beautifully through the voice of Ramala Devi. A brief translation of the song goes like this:
If the moon does not rise, there is no harm; let it be.
The wounded city roars from afar, surrounded by splendid darkness…
This is the dance between shore and ocean; their separation merges in union.
It does not matter if the moon rises; my red agony illuminates the light.
The fire has lit the horizon—let it be, even if the burn does not heal.
This song talks about the longing and pain of an individual, however, it never mentions if it is the pain of a separation from a lover or suffering and longing for something more from life. Although this song was used in the film Rikta (1939), its lyrical connotation goes beyond the film’s narrative. The metaphors in the song reference the wounded city, the splendid darkness, and the red agony, evoking an emotion of pain. However, it does not provide any specific contextual explanation of the pain. Hence, it can go beyond the context of the film. The audience had been given the choice to interpret the lyrics, which would suit their inner emotions. By providing this brief example of a song, I want to illustrate how, during the mid-twentieth century, the term Kavyasangeet influenced Bengali music. The lyrics conveyed a self-expression that individuals could relate to in their life experiences. The imagery in the lyrics provides a poetic expression of the self descriptively. This new phenomenon that started in Bengali songs tells us about a time when the aesthetic expression found its elements in the emerging modern culture of Bengal. Literature, art and paintings started experimentation after its contact with the West under the British rule. In this scenario, Bengali music navigated its space to go beyond the traditional practices and explore the possibilities within the colonial spectrum.
In this article, I have given an essence of the thoughts and practices surrounding the musical space of Bengal. There are certainly in-depth nuances in the musical compositions, lyrics and the act of singing. Let that narrative unfold some other day. For now, embrace the journey of Bengali songs and let the melody immerse you.
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