Moushumi Bhowmik: Music erases boundaries

Moushumi Bhowmik with Abdur Rahman Boyati

Singer-researcher-composer Moushumi Bhowmik was in Delhi recently for a presentation and performance of “Music as Absence, Memory and Desire: A journey through 'biraha' in the folk repertoire of Bengal.” Kolkata-based Moushumi has a clear perspective of 'biraha.' In her words, “In Bengal, we don't categorise 'biraha' as a distinct tradition or genre. It is more an emotion and in Bengal the word means longing in a state of separation.”
The separation, she asserts, could take many forms: a longing for union with the beloved or the Divine, physical disconnection in the sense of parting from one's homeland, or the longing for a person, and metaphysical (spiritual separation).
To illustrate her point, Moushumi sang several such songs: Among them, Lalon's "Ami apar hoye boshe achhi" and Deen Sharat's "Ghumey acheton go ma." She also played recording of the Blues, which she believes has parallels with 'biraha.' In this category was JB Lenoir's "Alabama Blues." The lyrics: “I will never go back to Alabama. That is not the place for me...They killed my sister and brother.” Apart from this famous African-American Blues guitarist, singer and songwriter who recorded in the 1950s and 1960s, there was also a rendering of a song by Son House, an American Blues singer and guitarist. “The Blues,” says the talented Moushumi, “are also songs of longing and separation. Like 'biraha,' the songs are about pain and suffering.”
In her worldview, 'biraha' erases boundaries. “We have erased the (physical) boundaries because we are talking about the flow of music across borders.”
The physical journeys could have their roots in poverty and the need to eke a living in other lands, be it overseas or within the homeland. It is not just the question of the migration of the Bengali people outside of Bengal but also a story of migrations into Bengal and Kolkata from states such as Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and Orissa. “The people also bring their music with them,” says Moushmi, adding, “Even the British colonisers brought their music with them and Bengali urban music was a melting pot of such diverse kinds of music.”
And whether it is Moushumi's Sylheti London-based friend Moyez or the hard-pressed residents of Sadhusree village in Shalla, Sylhet (which remains waterlogged for a large part of the year), music is an integral part of their lives.
And what of the future of folk music? “Folk music will never die. It changes, it evolves,” she says.
Moushumi's formidable endeavour has taken her, along with sound recordist Sukanta Majumdar, to many parts of Bengal. In Bangladesh, she says, she has travelled to Dhaka, Sylhet and Faridpur.
This project has been made possible by two grants from the India Foundation for the Arts (IFA) and she has spent over five years traversing the world of folk music of Bengal, recording voices and songs from an old but vibrant tradition.