In recent years, his birthdays have become little more than photo exhibitions on social media – pictures with him, captions glorifying the “importance” of the moment. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but one wonders: why has September 8 become limited to this single ritual? Is it merely the acceleration brought by social media, or has this pattern always been there, only now amplified by the speed of the internet?
Who is Dr Bhupen Hazarika – the bard of the Brahmaputra? Is he a lyricist of unmatched depth, a composer of rare brilliance, the most complete singer of his time, a pioneering filmmaker, or something far greater – something that stretches beyond the reach of our imagination?
Undoubtedly, Dr Hazarika was all of these – a once-in-a-generation artist. Yet, to me, he was much more than a musician. He was a rare mass communicator, one who could speak to the soul of people through poetry, song, and vision.
And here lies a troubling thought: have we allowed our imagination to shrink when it comes to Bhupen Hazarika? Have we boxed him into the convenient image of a prolific musician, forgetting that his essence was larger than melody and rhythm?
In recent years, his birthdays have become little more than photo exhibitions on social media – pictures with him, captions glorifying the “importance” of the moment. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but one wonders: why has September 8 become limited to this single ritual? Is it merely the acceleration brought by social media, or has this pattern always been there, only now amplified by the speed of the internet?
Each year, across Assam, hundreds of cultural functions celebrate him. People of all ages gather to sing and dance to his songs. Again, there is nothing wrong with this. But do the younger generations truly grasp the depth of his lyrics when they perform them? Do dance choreographies amplify the meaning of his words, or do they often lean into abstraction simply because abstraction appears fashionable?
It is not as though there have been no attempts to break this pattern. The erstwhile Bhupen Hazarika Centre for Mass Communication & Journalism (BCMJ) at Cotton University once observed September 8, as Mass Communication Day. To me, this was one of the most fitting tributes possible – for what was Dr Hazarika if not the greatest mass communicator of modern Assam?
Legends and stalwarts from across fields were invited to this observation and they participated in celebrating Mass Communication Day in the most befitting manner as they spoke about Bhupen Hazarika beyond the musical genius we know him to be.
However, I don’t know why, but somehow even that special observation now seems to have returned to the basics – i.e. the predictable cycle of musical performances alone.
As a student of journalism, I find in Hazarika’s life an inexhaustible well of lessons. His songs were not only about love, longing, or patriotism – they embodied the very spirit of journalism and communication. They reported the truths of society, told stories of the marginalised, and built bridges of understanding.
Would it not be a richer, more meaningful tribute to the legend if we observed 8th September as Mass Communication Day – celebrating him as the visionary communicator he was?
Each year, we hear leaders deliver routine speeches on his greatness, often without a deep knowledge of his work. What use is such lip service when the man himself continues to be misunderstood?
We are already running late, but nevertheless we can still look at Dr Bhupen Hazarika not only as a musical genius but also as a communicator who gave voice to the voiceless, who used poetry and music as a medium of journalism, and who reminded us that imagination and empathy must remain at the heart of any society that aspires to be human.
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Partha Prawal (Goswami) is a Guwahati-based journalist who loves to write about entertainment, sports, and social and civic issues among others. He is also the author of the book 'Autobiography Of A Paedophile'.