Among the Not So Great

Bheeshmadev Chatterjee

He ceased; but left so pleasing on the ear
His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear.

The Odyssey, Homer

Bheeshmadev was known to many of us of the older lot of ashramites, but many probably never gave him a second thought, nor did know something about him. He was just another “one” of them.

Bheeshmadev (Bisho-da) was born on the 8th of November of 1909 at Barrackpore — 24 Parganas, Bengal. He arrived here (ashram) leaving his life there on the 2nd of august of 1931, aged 21. He was married and had a son. He was already a well known singer of classical Hindustani music. In fact, he was a child prodigy: There was as ongoing Kutchery — sabha. One Ustad, i.e. maestro who was to sing did not arrive and the audience was getting restive. Someone had the bright idea to ask the 12-year-old Bheeshmadev to fill in for the Ustad. The young Bheeshma more than satisfied the “disbelievers”!

I first saw Bheeshmadev— not as an aquaintance — but as a worker in the washing-wiping dept. of our Dining Room. I saw a well-built man of fair complexion of quite ordinary features with long hair, neatly combed, hanging below his shoulders. He held a pleasant smile on his lips and eyes. In short I could picture him as one of the followers of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu that are seen in some Bengali films.

One of the Bisho-da’s duties was to be gateman at the Golconde gate. There he showed an unexpected skill of his fingers. Ten marbles (playthings of young boys) were arranged 5 or 6 feet away and he was given one. He shot all ten with his one — those same fingers unmatched when playing the harmonium or tabla!

I heard it said that a singer of some repute who was already here, through professional jealousy, impressed on him (Bisho-da) that music and such arts are not conducive to the practice of Yoga. This may or may not have some truth, but it was also known that his throat (pharynx) was already affected and warranted his being asked not to sing. Bisho-da stopped singing — or never started even if he was thinking of doing so. This was tantamount to plugging down a fount that was begging to be released! It did sometimes find release in a minor form, which was what my brother and I were waiting for. Bisho-da would be bringing in a tray full of dishes, bowls and spoons from the wiping dept. The fount of music would find a partial release by an “expression” of his hands (and maybe also an inaudible humming). The result would be a crash of the tray spilling the contents. He quickly picked them up. He would then stand at the now empty table, and his fingers would fly to play out a beat on the tabla (table). This was the moment my brother and I were waiting for. In later years he did play the tabla for one of Anu-ben’s dances on the 1st of December. I have heard on some old gramophone records (78 p.m.) Bisho-da’s song and his playing on the harmonium. Both were nigh mesmerising.

Bisho-da left the Ashram on the 27th of September 1948. Why? I can only guess. Maybe the plugged fount forced him to leave and give free vent to music — his throat permitting. It may be also that this plugging was bothering his mind and heart.

I would now end my story of this for another great man who was lost in the usual din and bustle of our minds. To that din and bustle we have lost the fine-tuning of our ears to listen to great music (not noise and Jazz) and more — to hearken to Silence.