"In the dark times, will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing. About the dark times.”
- Bertolt Brecht
Stirring video clips of protesters breaking out in song have been in circulation throughout the course of the demonstrations in Bangladesh, amid the mass bloodshed that continues even with Sheikh Hasina fleeing the country.
Music has long informed the language of protest in Bangladesh. The Bengali Language Movement of the fifties inspired songs like Abdul Gaffar Chowdhury’s "Amar Bhai er Rokte Rangano Ekushe February" (My Brothers' Blood Spattered 21st February) and Gazi Mazharul Anwar’s "Joy Bangla, Banglar Joy" (Hail Bengal, Victory to Bengal), that remain iconic symbols of rebellion.
The 2024 protests are no different.
“Awaaz Utha” (Raise your voice), a hiphop anthem from Rapper Hannan and SnareByte has sparked a blaze of Bangladeshi protest rap; a medium which has become a kind of mouthpiece for the anti-quota movement. The track — which has garnered over two million views on Youtube — makes an audacious statement of dissent against the “dictatorship” of Sheikh Hasina, urging people to speak out.
The description of the music video reads, “Our nation's history has taught us the vital importance of freedom of speech and the unwavering courage to stand up against any odds. Hip Hop, as a cultural movement, mirrors these same values, empowering individuals to express their truths and confront societal challenges.” The track seethes with passion and appears sharply aware of the historical context within which it is mired.
The start of the “Awaaz Utha” features the voice of Sheikh Hasina’s father, Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, delivering his iconic 7th March speech calling for a civil disobedience movement in 1971: “Since we have given blood, we will give more of it. But, Insha’Allah, we will free the people of this land!”.
Hannan details the collective rage over the destructive policies of a corrupt and murderous administration and the lives lost in the violence, warning that the oppressive powers that be are now set to tackle a people who will refuse to back down.
“Na kono league er amra na aisi kono dolerotey,
Namsi rastay kafon mathay tainna anum tolerotey,
Said ami gulli lomu hashi mukhe nolerotey,
Student go aowaj daba command aise dolerotey…
(We don't come from any league nor from any party,
We are taking to the streets, with kafon on our heads we shall bring you down,
I’m a martyr, I’ll smile and take the bullet from the barrel,
Silence the students’ voice, come the commands from the party…)”
Hannan was arrested by authorities on July 25 in Narayanganj and placed on a two day remand. It caused widespread public outcry.
Several other Bangladeshi rappers have followed in Hunnan’s footsteps to produce a prodigious volume of subversive hip hop over the last couple of weeks; numbers which are attracting lakhs of listeners.
Notable mentions include Mcc-e Mac’s “Slogan” and “Inquilab,” Anik Sahan’s “Rajakar,” Lunatic Veer and Rhythmsta’s “Desh Kar?” (Whose Country?), Imtiaz AKib’s “Chatro” (Student), AS OMIX’s “Rokto” (Blood), and CHEF-IQ and BIHAN’s “Bangla Ma” (Bengali Mother.)
The stand-out hit amid these tracks is Shezan’s “Kotha Ko” (Speak Up). With a title nearly synonymous to “Awaaz Utha,” the electric “Kotha Ko” echoes a similar sentiment. The refrain remembers the bloodshed of 1952, when police opened fire on rallies during the Bengali Language Movement in Bangladesh.
“Bahanno ar chobbishe te tofat koire? Kotha ko!
Deshta bole shadhin tale khnyach ta koi re? Kotha ko!Amar bhai bon more rastay, tor cheshta koi re? Kotha ko!
(52 and ‘24—where’s the difference? Speak up!
The country is free, so what’s the trouble? Speak up!
My brothers and sisters die in the street, where’s your effort? Speak up!)”
The track reverberates with an intense anger towards the brutality of the everyday repression in Bangladesh. Gory descriptions follow; of a country ravaged by unrest, where lives and homes are being upturned and the “lathi is breaking the pen,” as students are murdered in the streets. Shezan’s words forcefully signal revolt against a government “breaking the back” of the nation and “digging its own grave.”
However, “Kotha Ko” is acutely aware of the cost of the statement it makes against the authorities, as it brings up violent images of open mouths sewn shut and dissenters being branded as militant ‘Rajakars’. The words – “One Shezan may die, and a lakh Shezans will say, speak up!” – seem to linger on as the track comes to an abrupt, eerie end with the sound of gunshots.
Guitar-slinging singer-songwriter Farzana Wahid, aka Shayan, has long been fiercely outspoken about politics in her music and beyond. Throughout the course of the anti-quota movement, she has been uploading protest songs and poems on her Youtube and Facebook pages. “This country has come to belong to power, and no one else,” she sings in “Bhoy Banglay” (Fear in Bangla), initially created in 2019 as a tribute to Abrar Farad, which has gained widespread resonance among the protesters.
“Lor re manush, lor re manush, lor re manush lor,
Joto apon loke dokhol kore niyechhe tor ghor,
Bol re manush, bol re manush, sposhto kore bol,
Tor mukhei kali makhlo re tor nijer priyo dol…
(Fight, fight people, fight back
For your own people have taken over your homes
Speak, speak people, speak out clearly
For your favourite party paints your face with black…)”
In the song, she rages against the authoritarian government and the power-elites who claim the country for themselves and sow seeds of division amid citizens. She beckons people to take the fate of their nation into their own hands and clean the “filth” that has spread across Bangladesh.
In another song, “Amar Shurjo” (My Sun), she extols the strength and conviction of the revolutionaries who have embraced danger, and wishes to follow in their footsteps.
“Bhaggish tumi tobu eshechhile tai—
Tomar porosh rekhe jaowa pothe ami amio hnaatte chai.
Bhaggish tumi shahoshi korechhile tai—
Aguner pothe pure chhai hoye tobu o shanti pai…"
(Thankfully you still came—
I too want to walk the path that you have tread.
Thankfully you had the courage—
Even after being burnt to ashes on the path of fire, I find peace…)”
Shayan continues to release music almost daily, and her posts invite showers of admiring comments. One fan from Youtube wrote, “I have not seen the Himalayas, but I have seen the protest artist Shayan…”
To highlight the range of music that the protests have inspired, we need look no further than the pop numbers “Bidrohi Gaan” (Revolutionary Song) from YZ Entertainment and Gogon Sakib’s “Chakri” (Job). In sharp contrast to the other resolute protest songs, the autotune-addled “Chakri” humorously quips—
“Chatok pakhir moto, buke niye khoto,
Chakrir ashay gunchhi re din ami obiroto,
Korta mama hole, chakri ta jeto miley,
Ichhe hoy certificate khai re ami giley..”
(With a wound on my chest like a cuckoo,
I count the days endlessly in the hope of getting a job,
If my uncle was a somebody, I would've landed the job,
Now I want to eat up my certificates…)”
Tackling unemployment — the foundational issue of the anti-quota movement — the song outlines the simple tale of a man struggling to stay afloat without a job. He laments his inability to keep up with the needs of his sick father, siblings and lover. “I am a living corpse, a useless BA pass,” sings Sakib, and one is almost moved to smile at the way his abject helplessness is described.
“Bhule jai ami, bhule jao tumi, bhule jak puro jati,
Kibhabe manush morechhey okaley, kibhabe ketechhey raati,
(I forget, you forget, let our kind forget,
How people met untimely deaths, how we spent those nights…)”
Young Dhaka-based artist Parsha Mahjabeen Purni sings these lines accompanied by a ukulele in a short, harrowing video uploaded to her Youtube channel, which has garnered nearly three lakh views since it was posted last week.
Purni sings softly and simply, but her lyrics deliver bitter punches, as if demanding whether ordinary Bangladeshis have become numb to the barbarity of the government (“hyenas who devour the country”) and the flood of violence from the protests.
“You and I live on, standing atop corpses,” Purni says, adding sardonically that the lives lost will be forgotten, while the metro rail will be remembered.
Perhaps the title Dhaka-based band Kaaktaal’s song “Rokto Gorom Matha Thanda” (Hot Blood Cool Head) captures something of the indomitable strength and spirit of protest musicians. Each of these artistes has risked detention, disregarded the fear of death, grappled with their grief and still continued to raise their voices.
At the end of “Chalo Bhule Jai” (Let Us Forget), Parsha Purni grimly jokes—
“Gno dhore thakuk arosher manush, aankre thakuk godi,
Pore kono gaane phirbo abar, praanta thake jodi!
(Let the elites hold on to power, clinging to their thrones
I shall return with another song if I am alive yet!)”