On a steamy day in his very second Ranji trophy match against Bengal, Rahul Sharad Dravid came in to bat at the early fall of a Karnataka opener. My excitement naturally leapt up at the morning success of Bengal speedsters. But my school-boyish elation was quietly spooked by Dravid. From the very first ball he faced, it was an exhibition of immaculate technique that stole the hearts of Eden Gardens, the ultimate connoisseur of cricket. After settling down, he toyed with the bowlers. He had all the time in the world (leisure!) to hit the ball crashing the fences at regular intervals. Dravid that day went on to score a hundred and dashed whatever hope Bengal might have entertained. That ton was followed by two successive ones in his back-to-back matches. A script of success of ‘The Wall’ was unfolded before a school boy in me. I was fortunate to watch him play at the Gardens that day.
I was fortunate to hear Subinoy Roy at Rabindra Bhavan when I was at the threshold of boyhood. Already three years into Classical training under the guidance of Professor D. T. Joshi, the child in me was thrilled to find a frail man walk into the stage gently, sat down, softly bellowed harmonium and sang out ‘ Hridoy-nandan bone nibhrito ei niketane’. It was that simple! The packed auditorium perhaps forgot to breathe, as the singer used the shudh and komol swars (major and minor notes) with a mesmerising perfection from the very first throw of voice at microphone. ‘Sir, sing a song of difficult taal for us. Please,’ someone shouted from the balcony of hall. Subinoy, much amused, looked up in the direction of balcony. ‘Name the song, please. There is no such thing as “a song of difficult taal” in Rabindrasangeet.’ Subinoy said, mildly snubbing the bungling man. The man was found fumbling for song. Father, sitting at the front row, came forward in aid of the man. ‘E moho aboron khule dao,’ he requested. Subinoy nodded and started singing in ara theka (a difficult variation of teen taal of sixteen beats, using its laid-back beat to embellish the melodic build of entire song in an unhurried elegance) a prayer to lift the veil of worldly desires so that he could see the beautiful face of God. He signed off the evening with ‘Amar praner pore chole gelo ke basonter batastukur moto.’ A plaintive spring breeze came alive wistfully on a November evening as Subinoy took care of softer tangled notes. As we came back home, audiences were found wondering aloud over how a skeleton of notation could be fleshed out so serenely with an absolute mastery over loy (tempo).
As I am writing, a news channel on television is flashing out a blood-curdling warning from WHO: five lakh people are going to die in Europe in Covid-19 within February next year if there is no course correction taken in between. From my desk computer Subinoy is in the midst of song: Soda thako anonde. The calm voice in its calmer melody urges me to stay in joy forever.
Rahul Dravid might have been hearing this song far away as he thinks of preparing his team with hard work and motivation for the hard times ahead. Technical expertise is his only weapon against the daunting battle, as was with Subinoy to stamp his mark against the marquees: Suchitra-Konika-Debobroto-Hemonto-Chinmoy-Sagor.
Meanwhile the song changes to the next one: Majhe majhe tabo dekha pai chirodin kano paina….
Yes, the artiste, you are missed out badly. Wherever you are, take my pronam on your hundredth birth day.