Sugata Bose This song will last forever in the annals of Bengali music. The sheer sublimity of rendition, the magical evocative poetry of matchless appeal, the fullness of musical composition replete with perfect interludes have all combined to make for a masterpiece of artistic endeavour the like of which is seldom seen and must be held with our hearts' ardour whenever it surfaces on the horizon of life.
The singer is one that visits the musical scene once in several generations and I say this not from mere emotional effusion but from a considered estimation of her considerable repertoire in Hindustani classical music whose derivatives play a part prominent in her performances and form the foundation of the efflorescence of her musical genius. The deft touches of notes, the velvet voice gliding over the phrases with effortless ease, the cadences with their rise and fall uniting heaven and earth in a love-bond celestial, the words unharnessed and flowing free in lyrical delight like love-moods seeking alternate attention till in resolved synthesis they blend into oneness, the sophistication of presentation redolent of a cultured upbringing and awakened sensibilities, have all lent their significant elemental contributions to the blossoming of this beautiful dream.
It is a director's delight, this song, that leaves no space for vacuum to play foul but is filled in every bit of it with instrumental interludes, brief and blissful, lending wholeness to the harmony that is the hallmark of this masterly composition. And, yet, through all this, the dewdrop remains the singer as she reflects a universe of dreams in her shining self that catches the first colours of the stellar beams, the drop of rain that precariously undulates on the freshened green, the gleaming light that steals through the parted clouds, here rent, there peeling off in the drifting breeze, and in the rainbow that lights up her life and love in an unspelt, inarticulate, benumbing joy. There for us is Subhamita, the queen of melody, the voice of the hour, the inspiration of millions and the pathfinder for posterity.
The singer is one that visits the musical scene once in several generations and I say this not from mere emotional effusion but from a considered estimation of her considerable repertoire in Hindustani classical music whose derivatives play a part prominent in her performances and form the foundation of the efflorescence of her musical genius. The deft touches of notes, the velvet voice gliding over the phrases with effortless ease, the cadences with their rise and fall uniting heaven and earth in a love-bond celestial, the words unharnessed and flowing free in lyrical delight like love-moods seeking alternate attention till in resolved synthesis they blend into oneness, the sophistication of presentation redolent of a cultured upbringing and awakened sensibilities, have all lent their significant elemental contributions to the blossoming of this beautiful dream.
It is a director's delight, this song, that leaves no space for vacuum to play foul but is filled in every bit of it with instrumental interludes, brief and blissful, lending wholeness to the harmony that is the hallmark of this masterly composition. And, yet, through all this, the dewdrop remains the singer as she reflects a universe of dreams in her shining self that catches the first colours of the stellar beams, the drop of rain that precariously undulates on the freshened green, the gleaming light that steals through the parted clouds, here rent, there peeling off in the drifting breeze, and in the rainbow that lights up her life and love in an unspelt, inarticulate, benumbing joy. There for us is Subhamita, the queen of melody, the voice of the hour, the inspiration of millions and the pathfinder for posterity.
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