Musician & Composer: January 2012

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Shaharpara

My first job at a clothing factory was as an apprentice in 1981 under the famous promoter Aroj Ali's management, and later in the year, I became a sewing machinist and started earning more money than before, about two hundred pounds a week. I used to work overtime, which made me earn more money, but I also enjoyed the work!

In 1981, I attended an inspiring meeting with Bangladeshi artists in London, one of the most diverse and cosmopolitan cities in the world. The gathering featured artists such as Runa Laila, Goni Sorkar, Abdul Jabbar, Indo Mohan Rajbanshi, Sadeque Ali (the Tabla player and son of the late Ustad Mubarak Ali), the late Shefali Ghosh, Fatema Johora, Fakir Alamgir, Baby Naznin, and many more. The event, organised by the renowned promoters late Md Turab Uddin and Md Aroj Ali, became one of the most significant and inspirational showcases of the 80s.

In 1981, I also started my first job as an apprentice at a clothing factory under Aroj Ali’s management. Later that year, I became a sewing machinist and began earning around two hundred pounds a week, which was a substantial increase. I worked overtime, which helped me earn more money, but most importantly, I thoroughly enjoyed the work!

In 1983, the factory where I worked was sold to two Greek brothers, Mr. Andrew and Mr. Peter, who ran a company called Dorin of London Ltd. I continued working for them, and the job provided enough income to cover my food, shelter, and ongoing music training, including buying and replacing instruments, as well as paying for my teachers, until 1990.

The factory had a tradition of playing National Radio, along with special records of Indian, Bangladeshi, and Greek music every day. This exposure played a key role in directing me towards fusion music, which became an important influence on my musical journey.

My elder maternal cousin, Yousuf Bhaiya, was part of a local drama group before I arrived, and they even performed in a few stage shows around London and Birmingham.

At times, he would store musical instruments at our house on 39 Princelet Street, which encouraged me to play instruments, particularly the Dhol, when they weren’t around. Additionally, I had the privilege of being the captain of the Royal Bengal football team from 1978 to 1981.

In 1980, we played a match in Birmingham against a Pakistani team, arranged by Mr. John Newbigin OBE, a renowned youth worker. He drove us there in a minibus, accompanied by Caroline Adams, and we listened to songs from the Indian film Qurbani on a portable tape recorder during the journey.

Caroline Adams was a truly remarkable person, someone who offered boundless care and support, especially despite not having children of her own. Her kindness and generosity left an indelible mark on me and all who were fortunate enough to know her.

Her love transcended all differences, creating deep, meaningful connections and unwavering support. The love Caroline showed was a force that uplifted and guided people through difficult times, demonstrating the immense power of compassion and selflessness.

John Newbigin is currently the chair of Creative England, which supports creative ideas, talent, and businesses in film, TV, games, and digital media. Along with being a cultural entrepreneur and writer, he is also the chairman of Culture24 and Cinema Arts Network and serves on several boards, including the Battersea Arts Centre, First Light, and the British Council’s advisory board for Arts and Creative Economy.

Furthermore, Mr. Newbigin played a pivotal role in the UK government’s first policies for the creative industries, serving as Special Advisor to the Minister of Culture. His career soared after becoming head of Corporate Relations for Channel 4 Television and executive assistant to Lord David Terence Puttnam. As policy advisor to the Leader of the UK Labour Party and Leader of the Opposition, he was responsible for a wide range of issues, including environmental and cultural concerns, among others.

For six years, John Newbigin worked as a youth worker in East London and served as a writer-in-residence for Common Stock Theatre.

His late friend, Caroline Adams—renowned author, youth worker, cultural activist, and co-producer of Hason Raja—along with John’s guidance, inspired us to victory in a football match against a rival team, with a final score of 2-1. After the match, our manager, Amalendu, treated us to his famous mutton chops, which we enjoyed in Birmingham as we celebrated our win. We often practised football at Buxton Street Park, using our coats as makeshift goalposts. John and Caroline, recognising our dedication, provided us with a small, bamboo-sized, mobile aluminium extendable goalpost. Caroline Adams, in particular, treated us as her own children, showing an incredible amount of love and care.

I still remember the early days of 1978 in East London when I sat on the lap of someone who was not my mother — that person was Caroline Adams. After earning her degree in Politics from the University of Kent, Caroline travelled to Calcutta, where she volunteered with the Cathedral Relief Service, providing aid to refugees during the war that led to the creation of Bangladesh in 1971. She organised play facilities for children and, after the conflict, returned to visit many of the families she had met in the newly independent nation.

Caroline was also a close friend of MS. Valentine Harding, a remarkable woman whom I had the privilege of accompanying on the Tabla at Goldsmiths University of London, where she pursued her PhD in music. Ms. Harding, a nurse during the Bangladesh Liberation War, contributed significantly to the Women’s Profile – CLYD, a legacy documenting the vital role of women in the 1971 conflict.

Amalendu Chakraborty, my schoolmate and best friend from Calcutta, became the manager of our football team from 1978 to 1981. The team included players such as Sundor Miah, Yeor Ali, Muhib Rahman, Ana Miah (1), Ana Miah (2), Abdul Shubahan, Debu Chakraborty, Abdul Kadir (1), Abdul Kadir (2), Abdul Korim, Shahar Ali, and many more. From 1982 to 1985, I rejoined the Overseas Youth Organisation (OYO), with Amalendu once again serving as manager. I became the captain, leading a team that included members of the local anti-racist group, such as Aroj Ali, Motin Bhai, Islam Bhai, Amir Ali, and Sunahwar Ali, along with half of our Royal Bengal Football Team and many students from Robert Montefiore Secondary School.

His flat on Scott Street, located off Brady Street and opposite the Cemetery Codington House, became an additional congregational space for us. Regular meetings were held at the rooms of Amalendu Chakraborty and his younger brother, Debu (or Dev) Chakraborty, in Arthur Deakin House on Hunton Street, Chicksand House on Monthope Road, and Rickman House. Amir Hussain Bhai, who had travelled to Bangladesh for a long vacation, eventually married and settled there for a time. During his absence, Aroj Bhai hosted regular meetings at his flat on the top floor of Celia Blairman House on Folgate Street, off Commercial Street, where we gathered as a group.

In 1985-1986, our friends came together to form a team called Aldgate United, hiring a trainer from the local professional league. This training came at the cost of twenty-six pounds per hour for two hours of practice every Sunday at Weavers Field, off Bethnal Green Road.

From 1986 to the beginning of 1990, I joined a local organisation in Shoreditch called Weavers Youth Forum(WYF) at 232 Brick Lane, E2 7EB, United Kingdom. Together with the whole team, we built a new squad, and I was honoured to be named the captain. Later, I became an executive member and, eventually, the director and Vice-Chairman of the organisation.

http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/dillys-family-legacy.html
<link rel="stylesheet" href="https://keyoptimize.com/widgets/sites/modern/css/theme.css" media="all"/>
<script type="text/javascript" src="https://keyoptimize.com/widgets/dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk.js?theme=modern"></script> <noscript><a href="https://keyoptimize.com/site-info/dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk">Popular keywords for dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk</a></noscript>

Tilak Shaharpara

Tilak: A Village of Music, Memory, and Legacy

Tilak also spelt Tilok, is a name deeply rooted in history, carrying meanings that resonate beyond time. Derived from Tilaka, a sacred mark placed on the forehead, it symbolises blessings, honour, and distinction. Another interpretation of Tilak is the mark of kings, an emblem of sovereignty and cultural significance.

But Tilak is more than just a name—it is a place where traditions, music, and history intertwine, forming a rich tapestry of life passed down through generations.

The Rhythm of Devotion

In Tilak, music is not just an art; it is devotion, a form of prayer that rises with the sun and sets with the twilight. The villagers do not merely play instruments; they pour their hearts into melodies that blend with the winds, whispering through the trees and across the fields. Whether at sunrise, sunset, or on special occasions, their harmonic voices and rhythmic beats serve a purpose beyond mere entertainment—they connect the past with the present, the earthly with the divine.

As a child, I rose up on her lap—the lap of my village—listening to the enchanting symphony of life. The air carried the sounds of flutes, drums, and strings, filling my soul with an unspoken understanding that music, in its purest form, was a language of prayer, regardless of faith or background.

The Sriramshi Massacre: A Nightmarish Memory

But not all sounds were in harmony. Some were echoes of despair, cries swallowed by time yet never forgotten.

On 31st August 1971, during the Bangladesh Liberation War, the village of Sriramshi aka Siramishi bore witness to a horror beyond words. The massacre left the land soaked in sorrow, with bodies drifting in the Duwalabon—the Paddy Field of the Prince—situated to the northwest of Shaharpara. The stench of death was indescribable, a silent testimony to the brutality that had unfolded.

On that fateful day, very few survived the massacre of Siramishi. One of them was a guest at my neighbour’s house, Kal Bari, located in the northeast corner of my home. He had come to visit his sister, who was married there. Because he was wearing trousers and was smartly dressed, the Pakistani army assumed he was an educated man and lined him up with others before opening fire.

The Pakistani army had arrived in Siramishi under the guise of forming a “Peace Committee,” claiming they wanted to build a peaceful community by gathering the region’s educated individuals to lead it. Trusting their words, the people of Siramishi extended their hands in goodwill. But the army’s true intention was far more sinister—they sought to eliminate the area’s intellectuals as part of their broader strategy to cripple the country by targeting its brightest minds.

Once everyone had gathered, the soldiers tied their hands behind their backs with rope and executed them in cold blood. However, my neighbour’s guest miraculously survived the gunfire. Wounded and left for dead, he was later found by a fisherman in the Duwalabon paddy fields, barely clinging to life. They carried him back to Kal Bari, where he arrived in a critical state—his left shoulder had been torn apart by a gunshot, leaving the bone exposed and the flesh missing.

Yet, time does not stop for grief. The same paddy fields, once a graveyard of the innocent, soon turned golden with ripened rice after the war. Life reclaimed its space, and the villagers returned to what they knew best—harvesting, living, and singing their songs of resilience.

Harvest Nights and the Songs of the People

By 1972, the verandas of my home, as well as the courtyards, overflowed with rice crops from Buraiya, the paddy field to the south of Shaharpara. The nights were alive with the rustling of grains and the rhythmic movements of the harvesters. But what made those nights truly magical was the storytelling—songs sung without instruments, narratives woven into melodies, recounting histories, legends, and dreams.

Threshing, separating stalks, sorting grains—each task was accompanied by voices that carried the weight of tradition. Even without drums or strings, their music echoed across the fields, blending with the whispering breeze. It was their way of keeping the past alive, honouring the land that bore both tragedy and renewal.

A Lesson from My Father

One evening in 1973, after Maghrib prayers, I walked home with my Babasab (revered father). As we passed through the village, the sound of Hindu devotional music filled the air, mingling with the echoes of our own prayers. Curious, I asked my father, “Why do the Hindu people play their musical instruments during our prayers?”

His response was simple, yet profound:

“They are doing their prayers too.”

At that moment, I understood something greater than words could express. Faith may take different forms, but devotion, in its essence, is universal. Whether through spoken prayers or the language of music, every soul seeks the divine in its own way.

Tilak’s Legacy: A Harmony That Endures

Tilak is not just a village; it is a testament to resilience, unity, and the power of artistic devotion. It has witnessed both the darkest of days and the brightest of nights, yet through it all, its people have held onto what defines them—music, faith, and an unyielding connection to the land.

The echoes of the past still resonate, not as ghosts of sorrow, but as melodies of survival. And so, the music continues, rising with the sun and setting with the twilight, carrying with it the spirit of those who came before.

The Three Modest Men: A Story Told by My Father

Some stories stay with us, their meanings unfolding in layers over time. My father often told me tales filled with wisdom, and among them, The Three Modest Men remains one of the most profound. It speaks of skill, humility, and the eternal legacy of true artistry.

The Meeting at the Crossroads

Three men, unknown to one another, met at a three-way dirt track. Each carried little but hope in their hearts and dreams of a better future. They asked each other where they were headed, and though their paths differed, their purpose was the same—to seek work and a life of meaning.

Under the relentless sun, they journeyed together, walking until their feet ached. In the distance, they spotted a lone tree standing tall against the barren land. Its shade was a silent invitation, and they gratefully accepted, resting beneath its branches. Sharing their humble meals, they soon fell into a deep sleep.

The Hands of Creation

The first man awoke while the others were still asleep. As he stretched, his eyes fell upon a fallen branch nearby. His hands, skilled in their craft, began to carve. The simple twig transformed under his touch, shaped into the graceful form of a woman—elegant and lifelike. Satisfied, he placed the sculpture under the tree, inscribed his name at its base, and quietly left to continue his journey toward destiny.

The second man stirred sometime later. He noticed the beautifully sculpted figure resting beneath the tree. Moved by its craftsmanship, he decided to contribute to its beauty. Using leaves from the tree, he wove a delicate dress and draped it over the statue. With care, he embroidered his name onto the fabric before departing to seek his own fate.

The third man awoke last. His gaze fell upon the enchanting figure, now clothed in a handmade dress. Inspired, he gathered tree bark and twigs, skilfully shaping them into intricate jewellery. He adorned the figure with earrings, bracelets, and a crown, adding the final touch to its splendour. Before leaving, he etched his name into his creation and vanished into the horizon, following his own path.

A Timeless Lesson

By the time the sun had shifted, the three men were gone, leaving behind a masterpiece—a silent testament to their craftsmanship and modesty. They did not seek praise, nor did they compete. Each simply did what they knew best, confident in their abilities yet humble in their deeds.

When my father told me this story, his words carried the weight of a truth I would come to understand more deeply over time:

Judge people not by their faces but by their actions.

Knowledge never ends. Hope never fades. Creativity is eternal.

A true artist never dies, for their work lives on, woven into history—silent, yet speaking through time.

http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/0dillys-works.html

http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/dillys-family-legacy.html

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Dilly Meah

I arrived at Heathrow Airport and stepped into the enchanting realm of Yorkshire, England, with hopes of a brighter future and a better life. On June 15, 1977, summer had embraced the UK, and the country’s beauty was mesmerising—rows of houses stood in uniform elegance, each mirroring the other.

My cousin-brother, Yousuf Ali Kamali, came to Heathrow Airport to receive me. He bought some cakes and pastries for all of us from the airport canteen and served tea, making the moment even more special. The fully carpeted floors of the airport looked magnificent, leaving me in awe.

Later, in late December 1977 or early January 1978, I relocated to London, one of the World’s largest and most historically significant cities, to join my maternal cousins, Faruk Ali and Yousuf Ali, in an upstairs flat at 39 Princelet Street. During my time in Leeds, my elder cousin, Faruk Ali Kamali, visited me, and subsequently, my cousin Yousuf Ali Kamali brought me to London, where I took up residence with them.

East London thrived on the rag trade, dominated by Jewish-controlled clothiers and tanneries, which were later taken up by the hardworking people of Sylhet as they toiled long hours in the textile industry. However, for Asian immigrants, navigating the streets alone was fraught with danger, as they became easy targets for racist attackers. To protect themselves, they formed groups and walked together to bus stops and underground train stations, ensuring safety in numbers.

Racist attacks on Brick Lan e were a frequent occurrence, especially during the bustling Sunday market. The Eastern Teddy Boys gang would gather there, targeting Asian-owned businesses with acts of vandalism. They brazenly smashed the fronts of Sylheti grocery stores and other Asian shops, shattering glass bottles of alcohol and hurling pebbles through the windows of Asian homes on Cheshire Street, Hanbury Street, and Princelet Street, leaving fear and destruction in their wake.

Some vigilante groups of Sylheti and Bengali youngsters courageously fought back against these racist attacks, earning respect and recognition within the local community. Among them, Noor Miah from Shaharpara, Reyasat Ullah, also known as Faruk Bhai, from Bishwanath Upazila, and Azad Bhai from Balaganj Upazila (now Osmani Nagar Upazila) became well-known figures for defending victims and standing up against racist violence on the streets of East London. Their bravery and resistance became a source of strength for the Bengali community during those turbulent times.

Every Sunday, Bangladeshis, along with white and BME (Black and Minority Ethnic) activists from across London, gathered in Brick Lane’s Indian, Pakistani, Sylheti, Bengali, and Bangladeshi cafés to unite against racism. These gatherings served as both a space for solidarity and a platform for protest. At times, tensions escalated into direct confrontations, as community members—both young and old—stood shoulder to shoulder to defend themselves against racist attackers, many of whom were known skinheads. Their collective resistance transformed Brick Lane into a battleground for justice and a symbol of defiance against racial violence.

Vigilance groups were formed even before the racist killing of Aftab Ali, but their efforts were not widely recognized at the time. Some people were even opposed to the formation of these groups, fearing it might escalate the situation. Among the key members of these groups were Noor Miah from Shaharpara in Jagannathpur, Reyasat Ullah, commonly known as Faruk or Farooq Miah from Bishwanath, Azad Miah from Balaganj (now Osmani Nagar), and many others from Greater Sylhet. Despite the danger, these brave individuals continued their efforts to protect the Bengali community. Noor Bhai and Farooq Bhai were both stabbed multiple times by racists, but their commitment to defending their Bengali friends never wavered.

The assassination of Altab Ali on the 4th of May 1978 united Bengalis and united the voice of the war against apartheid. Many Bengalis were killed and maimed by racists' knives before Altab Ali, but Altab Ali's killing became a trumpet call that was hard to ignore. Hence, Altab Ali's name is an important one for the Bangladeshi diaspora. Altab Park is the only park in London named after a Bengali. Formerly known as St Mary's Park, it is the site of the old 14th-century white church, St Mary Matfelon, from which the area of Whitechapel derives its name.

The original skinhead subculture emerged in the late 1960s, heavily influenced by British mod culture and Jamaican rude boy style. It embraced black music genres such as ska, soul, and early reggae, reflecting a multicultural foundation. In its early years, the identity of skinheads was not inherently linked to white power or neo-fascism. However, some individuals within the movement—including black skinheads—engaged in violent acts such as “gay-bashing,” “hippie-bashing,” and “Paki-bashing,” targeting Pakistanis and other Asian immigrants. Over time, factions of the skinhead movement became associated with far-right ideologies, leading to a more politicized and racially charged reputation.

The Shaheed Minar “Martyr Monument” stands proudly in the southwest corner of Altab Ali Park, commemorating the Bengali Language Movement demonstrations of 1952 in what was then East Pakistan. After work, we often gathered at Brick Lane, particularly at cafés like Cafe Nirala, Sweet and Spices, Sweet Mart, Sonar Bangla Café, and Nazrul Restaurant. These spots became our meeting places, where we would wait for friends or other Bengalis. Due to the constant threat of racist attacks, it was unsafe to travel alone, so we had to assemble in groups before heading to the underground station or bus stop, ensuring our safety in numbers.

Every Sunday, Bangladeshis, as well as white and BME (Black and Minority Ethnic) workers from all over London, would gather at the Pakistani and Bangladeshi cafés on Brick Lane. When activists heard the skinheads approaching the Brick Lane traffic lights heading toward Whitechapel Road, they would quickly take action, smashing the windows of Bengali shops and homes with pebbles, beer bottles, and sticks. In response, agitators would mobilize to protest, often facing violent clashes with the skinheads. This became a regular Sunday routine, with skinheads targeting the area while the local community fought back in defence of their homes and businesses.

The Whitechapel district, along with the neighbouring areas of Spitalfields and Stepney, became a home for many Bengali immigrants, who often lived in cramped conditions. This was done both to save money to send back home and to ensure safety from the racist attackers in Tower Hamlets. Many of the rundown leather manufacturing and clothing factories in Spitalfields housed small, damp rooms with broken windows and frames, which were patched up with cloth and hardboard in Bengali-owned rented spaces. Working in these conditions during the winter was particularly harsh, with the cold biting through early mornings. Each day on our way to work, we were confronted by a horrific reality: the slurs of “Paki” echoed through the streets, and we were routinely verbally abused, spat on, slapped, and kicked by racists, facing constant humiliation and fear as we navigated our daily lives.

It’s hard to find someone who lived through the 80s in Tower Hamlets without having experienced some form of racial insult, even professionals like doctors and lawyers. We’ve all faced discrimination at least once. However, the situation has significantly changed over the years. Today, we are living happily in the UK, and our children are thriving in schools and colleges. Some are even working in modern office buildings, holding white-collar jobs. The fried chicken shops and curry house businesses have become staples across the UK, and Bengalis have also made significant contributions to Britain’s apparel industry. I would like to express my gratitude to the activists, the media, and the UK government for their relentless efforts in combating racism and improving the lives of communities like ours.

Later, I moved to a newly built flat at 1/48 Princelet Street, right in the heart of Brick Lane, which later became known as Banglatown. This area is renowned for its vibrant restaurant scene, multicultural musical expression, and the rich cultural diversity that makes it such a lively and unique neighbourhood.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Baishakhi_Mela_2009_2.jpg

I had the privilege of learning the Tabla, as well as singing, through one-on-one sessions and workshops, guided by both well-known and lesser-known student musicians, teachers, and internationally renowned maestros. My journey was also deeply inspired by the devotional presence of Mother Nature (Kudarat), whose beauty and power filled me with reverence and admiration, influencing my work and approach to music.

It was the generosity of my maternal cousin, Yousuf Ali Bhaiya, that enabled me to become a founder of the organisation, and he even covered my membership fees. On December 18, 1989, I was fortunate enough to secure my own flat through the local Housing Association, which was initially called the Co-operative. This association was founded by Fakruddin Ahmed, a Sylheti Bangladeshi man from Shaharpara, and it marked a significant milestone in my life.

There is also a street named Fakruddin Street, located in London, E1 5BU, in honour of Fakruddin Ahmed. Many local Sylheti people (Sylheti Zaati) played a pivotal role in creating the housing association, which was originally called Co-operative and later became Spitalfields Housing Association Ltd. I lived at Flat 1/48 Princelet Street, where I established a voluntary community music school called the Jalali Music School, commonly known as Jalali, from 1989 to 2000. I founded the project, and now, some of the pupils have become renowned figures in the music industry of Bangladesh.

I was fortunate to have been mentored by the late Kondukar Emdadul Hoque Manna, a highly respected teacher, radio program producer, composer, and singer. He was a key figure at the “Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra” during the Bangladesh Liberation War and a freedom fighte r of Bangladesh. Additionally, he served as a music teacher at Stewart Headlam School in East London. His training under the maestro Shyamal Mitra and his guidance left a lasting influence on my musical journey.

Ustad Fida Hussain Khan, accompanied by Ustad Alla Rakha Khan (also known as Ustad Allarakha Qureshi) of the Punjab Gharana (29 April 1919–3 February 2000), played the Lehra on the harmonium for twenty-four years, performing solo for the Tabla and dance, and creating Nagma (melody) in various Taal (rhythms). Maestro Deboo Chowdhury, a distinguished Tabla master who trained under the legendary Pandit Radhakanta Nand i of Benares Gharana, also influenced my journey. I had the privilege of being included as a pupil of the Benares Gharana, continuing the tradition of this renowned school.

http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/0dillys-works.html
http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/dillys-family-legacy.html

Dilly's ''Making of Music''

The Making of Music: A Fusion of Worlds, a Symphony of Souls

Music, the most powerful of human expressions, transcends boundaries, defies definitions, and transforms lives. It is the universal language that binds us together, bridging gaps between cultures, traditions, and histories. The "Making of Music" concept is an exploration into this dynamic, ever-evolving realm—an artistic venture fuelled by a collective passion for blending the old with the new, the East with the West, and the local with the global.

The concept was not born in isolation but rather through a shared vision, nourished by the wisdom of renowned maestros,

musicologists, musicians, friends, and appreciators of all things melodic. A patchwork of influences, rich in history and diversity, woven together in a tapestry of sound. This project, which we have affectionately named the "fusion process," is not just about the merging of musical styles but the very synthesis of life itself—of tradition and innovation, of cultures and communities.

The concept of fusion music is a curious and exciting one, not merely an aesthetic choice but an evolution—a natural consequence of the interaction between different musical traditions. For as long as human civilisation has existed, so too has the exchange of ideas, sounds, and rhythms. These exchanges, often born out of necessity, conflict, or curiosity, have paved the way for the emergence of entirely new forms of musical expression. From the ancient Silk Road to the bustling urban landscapes of today's world, music has been a silent yet unifying force, transcending geographical borders and cultural constraints.

What we see today in the world of fusion music is not only the harmonious marriage of East and West but a broader, more intricate weaving together of the diverse threads of global musical traditions. From the intricate raga structures of North Indian classical music, steeped in the ancient wisdom of Indian spirituality, to the electrifying grooves of modern dance music, born from the heart of Western club culture, fusion music has come to represent the very heartbeat of contemporary musical expression.

The notion of "Global Fusion Music" is uniquely exciting, as it represents the collective voices of the entire planet. It is a blend of sounds, ideas, and philosophies drawn from every corner of the globe, creating a melange that is both diverse and cohesive. It is an affirmation of the world's interconnectedness, where different musical forms are no longer isolated but rather embraced, shared, and celebrated. While East-West fusion often dominates discussions in the Western world, a rich and equally compelling tapestry of East-East fusion is also unfolding—where the traditions of one Eastern culture interact with and inspire another.

In an increasingly globalised world, where cultures, societies, and economies are intertwining at an unprecedented rate, music stands as a beacon of hope for unity. It is the ultimate metaphor for the interconnectedness of humanity. Music doesn't ask for borders; it doesn't recognise the lines we draw in the sand. It is inherently egalitarian, speaking a language that transcends class, race, religion, and nationality. In this way, it serves as a powerful tool for fostering togetherness in a fragmented world.

The sounds and rhythms that make up our project reflect this belief—this philosophy of interconnectedness. We have drawn upon the North Indian scale notations, such as the majestic Raga Darbari, inherited from the musical traditions of Turkey, Persia, the Arab world, and Africa. These ancient scales carry with them centuries of wisdom, emotion, and spirit. From this, we have woven together the infectious grooves of modern dance music—a genre that speaks to the contemporary world and its pulse. The song Guru, with its lyricism and tabla twists, is a product of this blend. It is a meeting point of worlds, a sonic journey guided by the hands of those who have studied, practiced, and lived this music.

The legendary Dilly Meah, whose soul-stirring voice and brilliant musicianship illuminate the track, has been an invaluable collaborator. His influence is evident in every note, every twist of melody. Alongside him is the prodigious Yoshisuke Suga, whose sound design, bass playing, and drum programming add a modern, electronic edge to the work. Yoshisuke and I first met at the LMS London Music School, where we studied together and began to forge a lasting musical bond that transcended the classroom.

The flute sections, crafted by the virtuoso Paul Cheneour, bring a breath of life to the soundscape. Paul, a maestro whose flute has captured the spirit of Sufi music for decades, has been a partner in both music and philosophy since 1997. It was through our mutual friend, filmmaker Anam Hoque, that we first crossed paths. Since then, we have recorded together on several projects, including This Being Human and Dance in the Fire—albums that are both deeply spiritual and sonically adventurous.

Equally indispensable in this creative journey has been Margosagov, whose guitar and choral contributions elevate the track to a level of brilliance. We first met at the Baul film show organised by the esteemed musicologist Valentine Harding, whose passion for preserving and celebrating music from all traditions inspired both of us. Valentine’s deep knowledge of music, combined with her courage and compassion—having served as a nurse during the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971—has enriched our collaboration in ways beyond music alone.

This project owes its shape to the legacy of women in music—particularly the untold contributions of women like Valentine Harding, whose resilience and intellect continue to influence generations of musicians and listeners alike.

As we enter the technical realm of music production, we find ourselves guided by the tools that connect the physical and virtual worlds of sound: the MBox 2, Pro Tools, MIDI-keyboards, Genelec monitors, and a trusty Macintosh computer. These are our instruments, our canvases, through which we craft and sculpt the sonic vision that brings our diverse world together.

In this process, there is no hierarchy of musical traditions, no sense of "one better than the other." It is about finding harmony and resonance in the meeting points, those rare and beautiful spaces where cultures and sounds converge to create something wholly new and extraordinary.

Finally, as we celebrate this fusion of music, I dedicate this work to the memory of George Harrison, whose song Bangladesh remains a timeless reminder of the power of music to heal, unite, and inspire. In this world of increasingly divided identities, his music continues to echo as a beacon of hope and solidarity. Through the making of music, we find not only expression but connection, the threads that bind us together in a world that often seeks to pull us apart.

Music is not just an art form—it is a force. It is a journey. And in this journey, we are all bound together. Bangladesh Liberation War.

http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/0dillys-works.html
http://dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/dillys-family-legacy.html
<link rel="stylesheet" href="http://yaserp.com/widgets/sites/default/css/theme.css" media="all"/>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://yaserp.com/widgets/dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk.js?theme=default"></script>
<noscript><a href="http://yaserp.com/site-<link rel="stylesheet" href="http://yaserp.com/widgets/sites/default/css/theme.css" media="all"/>
<script type="text/javascript" src="http://yaserp.com/widgets/dillymeah.blogsport.com.js?theme=default"></script>
<noscript><a href="http://yaserp.com/site-info/dillymeah.blogsport.com">Popular keywords for dillymeah.blogsport.com</a></noscript>

Sufi Baul Fusion Music School

Sufi Baul Fusion Academy: A Journey of Cultural Harmony and Artistic Innovation

London, a vibrant melting pot of cultures, is the ideal home for a groundbreaking initiative: the Sufi Baul Fusion Academy. This unique project aims to unite the ancient, soul-stirring traditions of Sufi and Baul music with the dynamic, ever-evolving genres of jazz, funk, rock, reggae, hip hop, and beyond. The academy’s mission is not just to teach music but to cultivate an inclusive, creative environment that fosters a deeper understanding of fusion music, film technology, and performing arts. By blending these distinct artistic realms, the Sufi Baul Fusion Academy aspires to become a beacon of cross-cultural collaboration and innovation.

A New Vision in the Heart of London

While the Sufi Baul Fusion movement has roots in South Asia—particularly in Bangladesh and Calcutta—it remains relatively underrepresented in the UK. Currently, there are few institutions that offer a platform for the fusion of South Asian musical traditions with modern Western genres. The Sufi Baul Fusion Academy seeks to fill this gap by promoting this exciting genre in London, and eventually extending its reach across Europe and America.

This initiative will serve as a cultural bridge, celebrating the intersection of Eastern and Western musical traditions and encouraging the development of new, vibrant forms of artistic expression. The academy will provide a space where musicians, artists, filmmakers, dancers, and community members from all backgrounds can come together, share their stories, and learn from one another.

Our Unique Approach

The Sufi Baul Fusion Academy is not just a music school—it's a holistic creative learning centre. The goal is to provide tuition, support, and guidance in multiple disciplines including music, drama, and digital filmmaking. From small group workshops to one-on-one sessions, the academy will offer tailored courses that allow students to explore their artistic potential and become self-sufficient in the creative industries.

Our Courses Include:

Music Theory

Audio Engineering & Mastering

Pro Tools

Songwriting Theory

Computer Technology & Website Construction

Scriptwriting & Acting

Digital Video Filmmaking & Directing

Dancing & Self-Defence

Instrument Courses:

Bass, Guitar, Flute, Saxophone, Ektara, Pakhavaj, Violin, Sitar, Keyboard, Piano, Tabla, Tambura, Dotara, Dhol, Khol, Kanjira, Manjira, Mridangam, Dhak, Harmonium, and Vocals.

Each student will be equipped with the skills necessary to excel in their chosen field, whether it be music production, film editing, or performing arts. The emphasis is on fostering creative self-sufficiency, allowing students to develop into well-rounded artists with a deep understanding of both the technical and artistic aspects of their craft.

Promoting Fusion Music: East Meets West

A core focus of the Sufi Baul Fusion Academy will be the promotion of fusion music—a unique blend of South Asian musical traditions with jazz, funk, rock, reggae, hip hop, and more. Fusion music is a genre that thrives on innovation, and it is at the heart of what the academy hopes to achieve. By introducing students to diverse musical styles, we aim to inspire new ways of thinking, create experimental compositions, and push the boundaries of musical genres.

This fusion approach isn't just about combining different sounds; it’s about blending the philosophies and histories behind the music. It’s about understanding how cultures interact through art, and how music can act as a universal language to unite people across the globe. In London, a city rich in cultural diversity, the academy is poised to offer a platform where such cross-cultural collaborations can flourish.

Empowering the Community

The Sufi Baul Fusion Academy will serve not only as an educational hub but also as a cultural centre that actively engages with the surrounding community. The curriculum will provide opportunities for students to participate in real-world projects—such as music and film productions—giving them the chance to create their own products while learning invaluable skills.

Importantly, the academy will work closely with local communities to create an environment where everyone, regardless of background or experience, can have access to quality education and the opportunity to pursue their artistic passions. The goal is to empower individuals to become leaders in their own creative journeys while contributing to the broader cultural landscape.

A Social Enterprise with a Heart

The Sufi Baul Fusion Academy is a nonprofit social enterprise, and its mission goes beyond education. If the academy achieves financial success, all profits will be directed toward supporting charitable causes, including orphanages and community projects in need. By creating a sustainable business model that is centred on giving back, the academy will contribute to the welfare of underserved communities both locally and internationally.

We invite potential business partners, philanthropists, and supporters to join us in this exciting venture. Together, we can make the Sufi Baul Fusion Academy a reality, and in doing so, create a lasting impact on the cultural fabric of London and beyond.

For further information or to discuss partnership opportunities, please contact Dilly Meah via email: dillymeah1@gmail.com.

By nurturing the creativity of tomorrow’s artists, the Sufi Baul Fusion Academy will not only celebrate the beauty of fusion music but will also serve as a catalyst for cultural exchange, artistic exploration, and social change. Join us on this transformative journey and be part of the next great musical revolution.

Email; dillymeah1@gmail.com

Musician & Composer: Dilly's works
<link rel="stylesheet" href="http://yaserp.com/widgets/sites/default/css/theme.css" media="all"/>

Wikipedia

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Shaharpara

Tilak Shaharpara

Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Dilly Meah

Dilly's ''Making of Music''

Sufi Baul Fusion Music School

<script type="text/javascript" src="http://yaserp.com/widgets/dillymeah.blogspot.co.uk.js?theme=default"></script>

<noscript><a href="http://yaserp.com/site-<link rel="stylesheet" href="http://yaserp.com/widgets/sites/default/css/theme.css" media="all"/>

<script type="text/javascript" src="http://yaserp.com/widgets/dillymeah.blogsport.com.js?theme=default"></script>

<noscript><a href="http://yaserp.com/site-info/dillymeah.blogsport.com">Popular keywords for dillymeah.blogsport.com</a></noscript>