Souls Rock Chattogram with a Jubilant Jubilee Bash
Legendary Bangladeshi band Souls marked 50 years of timeless music with a heartfelt unplugged concert in Chattogram. Founding members and stars from across the decades reunited for an unforgettable evening of memories, melodies, and musical magic.
If ever there were a band that could make a city swoon, stir up memories like a pot of grandmother’s Sunday curry, and still belt out ballads that leave one feeling teary-eyed and toe-tappy all at once—it’s Souls. And last Friday (2nd May), Chattogram’s Radisson Blu Bay View wasn’t just a hotel with a view; it was a time machine, an emotional rollercoaster, and a jolly good concert hall rolled into one.
“Mastercard Presents Souls Unplugged: 50 Years of Timeless Music” (try fitting that on a wristband) was less of a gig and more of a full-blown cultural moment. Organised with a fine bit of flair by M&M Business Communications, the night opened with a beautifully poignant documentary narrated by none other than the band’s eternal frontman, Partha Barua—who’s been in Souls longer than most of us have been in our flats.
As Partha’s voice wafted through the hall like the scent of rain on hot concrete, images of legendary members flashed across the screen—Sazed Ul Alam, Naquib Khan, Tapan Chowdhury, Lulu, Pilu Khan, Shahedul Alam, Subrata Barua Ronny, Ahmed Nawaz, and the inimitable Ayub Bachchu. Some have passed on, their guitars forever resting, but their spirits clearly hadn’t read the memo. They were very much in attendance—in every note, every tear, and every cheer.
Partha then did what he does best—strode onto stage and sang “Bondho Hoye Geche” like a man who’s lived every lyric. The crowd, needless to say, was all ears and goosebumps. He followed it up with love letters to Chattogram—“Aiyona Aiyona” among them—a musical postcard to the hills, sea, and unbreakable soul of the port city.
Now, it wouldn’t be a Souls show without a dash of drama and a dollop of humour. Enter the tale behind “Dekha Hobe Bondhu”, where Partha revealed that the lyricist Noor had once confessed he didn’t care for the song—and promptly vanished. (One wonders if Noor’s hiding in plain sight, humming it under his breath.)
Then came one of the night’s emotional crescendos: Partha performing “Mon Shudhu Mon Chuyeche”, originally by Naquib Khan. As Naquib’s smile lit up the screen, Partha asked the audience for forgiveness if his rendition fell short. It didn’t, of course—it soared. Followed swiftly by “E Emon Porichoy”—a classic Tapan Chowdhury number—Partha proved he’s not just a singer, but a musical time traveller.
Naquib Khan himself then took the stage, still sharp as a pin and twice as wise. He recalled the early days when Souls mostly played covers, until he decided enough was enough and penned “Nodi Eshey Poth”—a poem-turned-hit that put original Bangladeshi rock on the map. And just to show he’s still got it, he gave us “Tore Putuler Moto Kore Shajai”—leaving the crowd positively chuffed.
Partha returned (at this point, someone should’ve just handed him the keys to the stage) with a string of beloved numbers including Subir Sen’s “Sharadin Tomay Bhebe”, “Cholo Na Ghure Ashi Ojanate”, “Banshi Shune Aar Kaj Nai”, and “Nishshongota”. Nasim Ali Khan then stepped up with vocals so smooth, even the chandeliers swayed along.
And just when you thought the night couldn’t get any more heartstring-plucky, every living member past and present lined up for “Ei Mukhorito Jiboner”, a final number that felt less like a goodbye and more like a promise: the music isn’t going anywhere.
As Lulu, a founding member, stood teary-eyed under the stage lights, he summed it all up with the sort of line that should be etched into vinyl: “I am certain Souls will live to be a hundred. With leaders like Ayub Bachchu and Partha Barua, the legacy is in strong hands.”
Too right, Lulu. Here’s to another 50 years. And if that’s not a reason to raise a cuppa—or a lighter—then what is?
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