Sadi Mohammad: Tribute to an artist and eulogy for a nation

On 13 March 2024, acclaimed musician Sadi Mohammad passed away in his home in Mohammadpur of Dhaka. His apparent suicide swiftly made headlines and netizens on social media have not stopped speculating on the reasons behind the tragic demise of the celebrated singer.

Some attribute it to a decline in mental health following the death of Sadi's mother last year, which prompted the grief-stricken artist to take his own life. Others conjectured that Sadi Mohammad, the Rabindra Sangeet maestro and recipient of Bangla Academy's "Rabindra Award", had been snubbed by the state on previous occasions for the prestigious national award—and perhaps that explained his sad demise. Apart from these speculations, there are not any significant clues that might satisfy his fans or the general public. There are no reports of any suicide note. However, his visibly distraught brother, Shibli Mohammad, a master of classical dance and winner of Ekushey Padak, claimed that his brother Sadi was extremely "obhimani" and felt his craft and talent had not been duly appreciated.

Sadi was a firsthand witness of his father's killing—a trauma which likely never healed. His father, Awami League leader Salim Ullah was killed in his Mohammadpur residence on 26 March 1971 after the Pakistani Army embarked on a purge of students, intellectuals, Hindus and anyone identifying as and with the Awami League. Subsequently, Sadi's future was nearly sealed as an engineering student. This path carried with it possibilities of prestige, status, employment prospects and possibly migration to first world countries—a chosen route for many engineering graduates. Instead, Sadi chose to pursue his passion for music. It took him to Vishwa Bharati in Shantiniketan sometime in 1975.

Born in 1955 and raised in East Pakistan, Sadi would have witnessed the revival of cultural nationalism among Bengalis as illustrated, for instance, by the Chayanaut movement. Sadi's return from Shantiniketan was on the heels of Bangladesh's descent into autocracy for much of the mid-70s to late 80s. Democracy had died in the darkness of that era and Bangladesh faced an identity crisis over whether its people were Bengalis or Bangladeshi. There was some solace to be found in the cultural space, which significantly defined the era before cultural identity was lost in the soaps of Star Plus and Zee TV.

Most middle-class households had some practice of music or musical talent in the family—not for profiting as they do in the age of the influencers—but purely as a way to commune. Cultural shows in educational, state or other institutions or private clubs would celebrate Tagore songs. In this context, Sadi's talent made him a star. He was among the few well-known musicians who were vanguards of cultural nationalism in independent Bangladesh—the kind that strove to be secular and democratic in its spirit. Sadly, these artists were also the last bastions of an increasingly lost art.

Two factors account for this loss. First, culture came under direct attack, pitted against religious identity. A 2001 terrorist attack on a crowd celebrating the Bengali New Year at Dhaka's Ramna Park—a day where Tagore songs are sung to ring in the New Year—struck the heart of the country's cultural life. Music, particularly Tagore and Nazrul songs had been inextricably linked to our political life at various points in history. This attack signalled that democracy, secularism and possibly culture itself were in trouble. Second, traditional music including Tagore songs in particular, receded from mainstream media. This decline too was symptomatic of a loss of the state as a patron of arts and culture. BTV, for a long time, was a single state-owned television channel, which devoted significant airtime to the nation's cultural life through Tagore songs. The early 2000s witnessed the rise of international channels, private television stations, and music bands. It left culture to now be shaped purely by market forces.

Despite this cultural decline, Sadi Mohammad—a devoted music teacher as well—had claimed his place in the hearts of many. He was struggling with trauma and grief; but to reduce his decision to end his life because he was not given a certain award is to infantilize him and deny his contributions to art. There is no literal single English equivalent of the word "Obhiman". The words self-respect, pride and rumination combined may perhaps capture it. Sadi's last living instructions to family were reportedly that he did not wish to be honoured in the Shaheed Minar upon his death and to reject any posthumous award from the state.

Sadi's obhiman speaks to his disenchantment. His departure from the world may have been Sadi's last act of protest, reminding us of the debt we owe to art, music and culture for shaping our social and political life. Perhaps Sadi dreamed of a nation that appreciates and patronizes the arts and artists without partisan favour or allegiance. Sadi's obhiman may have stemmed from his faith in the promises that had been made about this nation, which—for him—were also associated with a deep personal loss. Perhaps Sadi is from a lost generation—the very last of whom held such faith that his country will be (to put a spin on Tagore's poem in Gitanjali) a heaven of freedom where the mind will be without fear and the head will be held high.

Cynthia Farid. Photo: Courtesy

Cynthia Farid is an advocate of the Supreme Court of Bangladesh and a fellow at the University of Hong Kong Faculty of Law.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.