Musician & Composer: 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

Musician & Composer

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Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Dilly Meah

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