Goodbye to an icon

If one goes on YouTube and types Lucky Akhand in the search box, a 30-minute video titled "Best of Lucky Akhand" pops up as one of the first results. Akhand performed his top five songs on a programme hosted by Boishakhi TV. Personally, I was quite surprised to know all five of these songs well. Being part of the so-called modern and rebellious generation of the 90s, Akhand's brand of music was more reminiscent of what my parents would listen to, rather than the Aurthohin loving and Nemesis devoted average Bangladeshi 21-year-old. Yet, there was something very special about Lucky Akhand and his music.

The 30-minute video showcased the wonders of Lucky Akhand in a single comprehensive and continuous musical soiree. Ranging from his brother's iconic Abar Elo Je Shondhya to Ferdous Wahid's Aage Jodi Jantam, the video reminded us that it was indeed Lucky who had composed these songs. And I say this with the utmost respect to Happy Akhand and Ferdous Wahid, that for whatever reason, Lucky Akhand's rendition of these songs in recent years, encapsulated a sense of soft-rock mysticism which continually enthralled his fans. If one can go beyond the 30-minute video of Akhand at his finest, and scroll down the YouTube search results, he or she may come across a much frailer, and dear I say, a gutsier Lucky Akhand. At the final stages of his battle against lung cancer, Lucky is seen wielding his magic on a harmonium, and with his dear friend Annisul Huq, singing Bangladesh's favourite Abar Elo Je Shondhya. Annisul Huq may be an influential public figure and the current Mayor of Dhaka North, but to Lucky Akhand, he remained a dear friend. At Huq's initiative, a forum to support cultural personalities styled Shilpir Pasher Foundation was initiated at Dhaka's Westin Hotel on November 19, 2016. Again, the frail Akhand got up on stage, and performed his beloved Aage Jodi Jantam. Seemingly struggling to increase his vocal range, Lucky used the genius of a musical mind that he had, to tweak his own song, and mesmerised a shuddering and captivated crowd. While we were succumbing to the realities of Akhand's health, the country's favourite composer kept on going. He sung, he sung and he sung. And we admired, and prayed to the Almighty, to give Lucky Akhand a few more years. Sadly, that was not to be. Contemporary Bangladeshi music has lost a gem, but Bangladesh in its totality has lost a national asset.

Akhand defined how public service could be done without being part of politics or national governance. Such was his reach. Whilst his greatness in music is well known, it is arguable to note that he was also a freedom fighter. A member of the 1971 Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra, Lucky Akhand was part of a brave group of intellectuals who engaged in supporting the struggle for self-determination and freedom through patriotic songs and melodies. Today, we rightfully commemorate the power of George Harrison's Bangladesh in engaging international support for Bangladesh, and we remember the dynamism of the political and military leadership of our heroes in 1971. Yet we forget to comprehend the critical role that the likes of Lucky Akhand played in keeping the spirits of our freedom fighters up in what was a dark and dingy climate of war. We forget that without families to converse with, without mothers to put their shoulders on and without fathers to seek counsel from, it was forums like the Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra and brave cultural artists like Lucky Akhand who kept the morale of the young Mukti-Bahini intact. This nation should be ashamed of how it has forgotten the roles of its own artists and intellectuals.

In an age where freedom fighter certificates are being commercialised, Lucky Akhand reminds us of how and why the then East Pakistanis jumped to defend their honour and motherland with whatever they had. Whether it be singular political leadership of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, or the military expertise of the likes of MAG Osmani and Ziaur Rahman, whether it be the diplomatic skills of Abu Sayeed Chowdhury, or in Lucky Akhand's case, his amazing sense of patriotism through music, Bangladesh was liberated with the intention of achieving autonomy, democracy, self-determination and freedom. Bangladesh was liberated by people from all walks of life, ranging from farmers to politicians to musicians, and they surely did not do so with the desire to achieve a simple certificate and reap state benefits. And it shows why we, as people from all walks of life, can indeed dedicate ourselves to public service from whatever profession and corner of the globe we are in, to help achieve the dream of a great Bangladesh.

Lucky Akhand's selflessness was evident throughout his musical career as well. Celebrated artists like Kumar Biswajit and Samina Chowdhury remain indebted to Lucky Akhand for their respective career progressions. Akhand never chased stardom, neither did he crave attention from the media. He carried on and served this country's music industry decisively and earned the respect of people throughout the nation. It is for this reason that the entire nation, including 21-year olds like me and my parents' generation who fell in love with the Akhand brothers, will always remember his euphonious compositions and mourn the loss of a true legend.

Lucky Akhand was buried on Saturday with state honours. In a time when there is an ensuing tension regarding the role of culture in our society and what a secular Bangladesh should look like, Lucky Akhand's life should remain a timeless reminder of what people of this country can truly achieve. He was an icon of the highest order, whose love for Bangladesh and its music was showcased throughout his entire life. This country should remain indebted to him for giving it some of its most ageless melodies, but for also being a shining example of humanity and a true fighter from all senses of the word. As Akhand would himself say, Cholo Na Ghure Ashi Ojanate - this country hopes and prays that Akhand's journey to such an Ojanate is peaceful and transient like his gracious voice. Rest in peace, Lucky Akhand! And thank you for what you have given us.

The writer is a third year undergraduate student of Economics and International Relations, University of Toronto. Email: aftab.ahmed@mail.utoronto.ca