Kazi Nazrul versus AR Rahman

New Delhi: In a remarkable coincidence, Nazrul and Rahman were awarded the Padma Bhushan exactly 50 years apart, in 1960 and 2010. The uncanny convergence of their creative paths in 2023 is albeit an accident, easily avoidable.

The context of this conversation, in case of any confusion, is the movie Pippa, based on the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War. More specifically, the interpretation by Rahman of a Nazrul classic ‘Karar Oi Louho Kopat’ ( Iron bars of prison), originally composed in 1922 to protest the arrest of freedom fighter C R Das. Both liberals and cultural fanatics are up in arms, Rahman seemingly has gone too far in his free thinking. But before passing a verdict, or letting the verdict pass, do permit a few necessary detours.

In the cauldron of creativity in the 20th-century sub-continent, Kazi Nazrul is a truly unique character. The poem ‘Bidrohi’ ( Rebel) earned him the adulating title of Bidrohi Kobi ( Rebel Poet), serving the empire in the armed forces prior to becoming a literary dissident. Most remarkably, he chose India over Pakistan in 1947, while being persuaded to move to Bangladesh in 1972, as the National Poet. Creating magnificently while battling the incurable Pick’s Disease, a form of dementia that challenged the finest doctors in the world. In the 1970s, he earned the highest awards in Bangladesh, asserting his stature as a cross-cultural dynamo, pluralist in heart and action.

AR Rahman, a tantalising superhero, was born as A S Dileep Kumar in 1967, converting himself and his family to Islam at the age of 23. Grammy, BAFTA, Golden Globe and naturally, the Indian awards, arrived sequentially given his prolific genius. Apart from demonstrating his sheer originality over the decades, he has also been responsible for a particularly accomplished version of Tagore’s Ekla Cholo Re, in 2004, for the movie on Bose and sung by Sonu Nigam. In that case, though, the tune was untampered, while words were added in Hindi.

The twain had to meet, under the auspices of Amazon Prime, befitting modern civilization. In a movie called Pippa, quaintly named as such in deference to a Russian amphibious tank, ensuring the liberation of a battered state. Rahman, however, chose the dilettante path, tampering with the fundamentals of the song, and therefore the emotions, of not just one one but two nations who are still in awe of Kazi Nazrul. This is why the outrage is deeply felt, not just expressed as social media flora and fauna.

When cutting to the chase, the debate is about the difference between interpretation and devaluation, in a cultural context across genres. Imtiaz Quereshi, the legendary master chef, acquired his spurs by visiting home kitchens in order to concoct the grace of Dumpukht, in ITC hotels. Ustad Vilayat Khan, when presenting ‘Chaap Tilak’, was suitably mentored by Amir Khusro ( 13th century) in the quest for compelling originality. The Soviet Union inspired Communists across continents, including the latest Pink Tide, to forge their very own version of the Great Revolution and we see the evidence in India as well.

To drive the point forward, the difference is obviously compelling while being easy to dismiss. The ‘Jibonmukhi’ genre of Bengali music is an interpretation of Dylan’s work, with accomplished cultural nuances. Tagore’s ‘Kabuliwala’ will be witnessed on the silver screen yet again, this time starring Mithun Chakraborty, and cinematic history is full of such instances. So much of Bollywood is the replication of South Indian or Korean cinema and nobody really minds, as in the case of Bappi Lahiri and RD Burman’s diligent photocopies of Western tunes. Tagore was actually the maestro of such transitions, ‘Purano Shei Diner Kotha’ an effortless adaptation of Auld Lang Syne.

There is a basic truth which makes remakes non-controversial. The new audience should not have any emotional discontinuity with the original. Which means sensitive retention or even better, insignificant past association. In the former scenario, the emotions must retain or amplify their original essence, like Tagore songs rendered in modern orchestration or in cahoots with raga exponents. In the latter case, Auld Lang Syne was irrelevant to Indian audiences when Tagore did Purano Shei Diner Kotha, in spite of being very valuable in Europe. Let’s not confuse this as a debate between stoic orthodoxy and liberal expression, as the issue clearly lies elsewhere.

Rahman has tampered with a very sincere emotion, whether linguistic or nationalistic. The reactions prove in ample abundance that people still care about their intrinsic roots, cultural authenticity being a suitable surrogate. Interpretation is a necessary pillar of evolution, as long as emotional authenticity is not affected. Devaluation occurs when we wrongly assume that creativity, good or bad, can supersede the guardrails of value systems, however liberal.

In his iconic poem Bidrohi ( Rebel), Kazi Nazrul proudly states ‘I am the rebel eternal, I raise my head beyond this world and high, ever erect and alone!’. AR Rahman, in his delightful creations, is most certainly a brilliant rebel, charmingly defying conventions. In this case, though, his throbbing mind has missed the pulse of an undying heart. No hard feelings, let’s just move on.