Since private universities are popping up like pimples on the face of Dhaka, I have three surrounding my apartment. While one concentrates on Baishakh and International Mother Language Day and the other is strangely inactive, the third one is my favourite. “Law Academy” attached to some place in England, these lawless hooligans spend most of the year ’round singing and dancing over everything. To honour friendship day, their home band(s) put up some performances (followed by biriyani and unlimited soft/hard drinks). Believe me, the vocalist stole my heart away!!
The show kicked off with Bangla folk songs, incorporated with the same guitar intro for each of them. The drumline was basically the same for ALL the numbers, regardless of language, genre or any other aspect that generally would differenciate songs from songs. The cymbals sounded like the times when I was five and annoyed my parents by beating on tin paateel/haari with wooden rulers and the vocal was a refreshing mockery of the Banglish crowd. I’m pretty sure he never meant it to be that way – it was his “originality” throughout.
I was priviledged to listen to the worst cover of Elita’s “Kothay” (Raaga) and what’s best, it was a guy singing it. Imagine those girly “haah-s” and “hoo-s” from a brute’s vocal chords! Not to mention the unnecessary stretched and oddly creative (on the negative note) remix of “Bhalo Achi Bhalo Theko, Akasher Thikanai Chitthi Likho”. The never-unpopular forced “rrrr-s” on any Bangla word that characterizes poseurs and I’m-too-cool-to-speak-Bangla-properly generation on folk numbers was shockingly hilarious.
When they finally switched to Hindi pop and dance mix (and ever-famous Jhal’s “Woh Lamhey” and hoozoo-g Reshammiya), the over-enthusiastic crowd decided they should give their excitement some motion, hence doing something that can be loosely described as “dancing”. The vocalist initiated it by shouting “Ki bhai-bonera, eto chupchap kan? Moja lagtase na? Ashen, amra shobai miile enjoy kori!” All I had to do was comfortably station myself on the couch next to my window and watch a bunch of “dudes” and “chicks” waving their hands and shaking their hips (doggy-shake, if I should describe precisely) non-stop. It was worth recording on my handycam for TMA Studios!
Ow, at one point, they did sing some English songs, but honestly it sounded Hebrew-ish and took me till the third composition to figure out that it WAS indeed English. I wasn’t hallucinating. The classy vocal by then had “evolved” his accent to a strange combination of American-Australian-rrrr, while they had sirens blowing from God-knows-where for enhanced effects. He might as well have growled (or something that sounded like an unrehearsed grrrrowl) to intensify his solo performance – it was ingenius versatility.
Entertainment has taken a whole new definition in my dictionary. If giggling over the most unreasonable celebration of the year wasn’t a doze enough, then listening to some nut-crackin’ music next to my room surely made my night. I got to watch a LIVE “concert” (or, comedy) from my bedroom window and by the time it was finally OVER (thank God) around midnight, I was laughing with a 103 degrees fever up my head. The only person who suffered was my little brother who had his second-term Science exam the following day. He ain’t much of a Science-person and was studying the syllabus for the first time, while “muzik” pounded on his brain like a meteorite. Tssk tssk.