Anjan filled up a vacuum in our lives. Having grown up in a world of Chayachabir Gaan and Anurodher Asar, of correct music and Rabindrasangeet--and yet, in real life enamoured with Park Street, College Street book shops , Coffee House and Flury's and Trincas and the music of Dylan, Denver, Joan Baez--Bengalis to the core--as much in tune with the Achar Jars drying on the rooftop and with Musical Bandbox, we yearned for someone who would come with Bengali songs and lyrics which would portray the actual world we lived in and loved to live in.
Sumon had started the trend with his pathbreaking Tomake Chai.
I remembered slogging to myriads of cassette shops before I got one at Symphony(?) beside Metro Cinema. And how I rushed home soaked by the incessant rain, changed my clothes and sat with a cassette player for a straight 6 hours. But Sumon wrote a different story than Anjan.
Anjan's first show was as far as I remember at Gyan Manch. When his first cassette arrived, I was at hand in a local shop where I had made a deal to buy it first. Pretty odd behaviour from a developing Orthopaedic Surgeon, you could say---but that was an indicator of how thirsty we were for OUR music. Yes, the lyrics which in a few phrases would reiterate our exact feelings and the music which like western country music was easily recognisable and reproducible with a simple instrument like the guitar.
Anjan grew on us as we did with him. We realised that Anjan did not have a great variety of melodies. Many of his songs were like previous ones. His world was limited. He had a fabulous voice. His lyrics became a little predictable. Like clothing styles we grew away from him. We were married now with children and a time consuming profession. And yet the regard continued. Every cassette and then CD had to be purchased and listened to. I suspect Anjan also grew away from his music, as he turned to telefilms, travelogues, feature films, and film music.
So when I heard that he would perform at Gyan Manch on the 11th of October, just after the Pujas, I made a beeline for tickets a week ago---only to be told that it was not necessary to buy tickets so much in advance, but to come 30 minutes before showtime. That dampened my spirits. Was Anjan being relegated to a bygone era? With him, were we also becoming irrelevant? Taking no chances, I bought the tickets in the morning and was surprised and vindicated 30 minutes before the start to see the House Full board.
What followed was sheer magic. Anjan read out the letters , took up his guitar and sung---and how he sung and how well he played!!! He is about 58--59 years old but his voice is still as good. Well accompanied by his "Godots", including Neil, he conveyed every single emotion and message that we wanted him to. The high point was when he told the audience to sing 500 miles. The whole hall responded--single matrons, company vice presidents,housewives, teachers, college goers, school students, all sang along in reasonable pitch. A very special moment indeed and Anjan looked overwhelmed also. Three hours of undiluted songs and lyrics came easily to him. the guitar was in exceptional mood and the synchronisation with the rest of the band , the splendid guitar riffs created some very, very special emotions. Perhaps the lighting could have been a bit better, the sets a little more polished---but we didn't care.
Anjan has grown older and so have we---but he has taken us along with him. He now sings with his son--"Gaichi gaan aami aar Godot".
"Chokher jal kimba paani, she to nontai theke jai...." There were a lot of tears that day, Anjan, most of it suppressed by the periodic handkerchief.
Anjan, thank you again for a wonderful evening, thank you for the nostalgia, and thank you for showing that a corner of our hearts will always be green or is it Neel???
Gaanwala, gaan thamio na!!!
