Bhupen Hazarika: Are we listening – or only singing?

The greater challenge of his centenary is not to celebrate his songs, but to live their values – Harsha Mohan Sarma

There are musicians whose songs entertain, those whose voices become iconic, and those whose work becomes inseparable from the identity of a people. But there are very few artistes whose songs become a moral document of their society. Bhupen Hazarika belongs to that rare fraternity. To listen to Bhupen Hazarika merely as a singer is to encounter only the surface of his genius. Beneath his melodies lived a restless intellect—one that questioned poverty, unemployment, caste, exploitation, communal division, love, human dignity and the meaning of civilisation itself. As Assam celebrates his birth centenary, therefore, a more fundamental question deserves to be asked: Do we truly understand Bhupen Hazarika, or have we reduced him to a collection of songs that we ceremonially sing without absorbing their meaning? The distinction is crucial. An artiste can be remembered without being understood, celebrated without being followed, and admired without being listened to.

Bhupen Hazarika’s extraordinary achievement was not merely that he composed beautiful songs. He transformed the realities of his time into popular culture. The unemployed youth, the farmer, the labourer, the oppressed, the tribal communities, the relationship between hills and valleys, caste prejudice, communal harmony, scientific thinking and human relationships—all found a place in his vast creative universe. His spontaneity was equally remarkable. A place or event could immediately become the inspiration for a song. At the inauguration of the Kopili Hydroelectric Project came “Kopili Kopili, Rangdhali Suwali”. At Gauripur, “Gauripuriya Gabhoru Dekhilo”. At Tihu, “Tihu Hol Tumar Naam”. For Bhupen Hazarika, art did not stand outside life. Art was life interpreted. The river, the landscape, the worker and the unemployed youth were not merely subjects; they were carriers of human stories and social questions. That is what made him more than an entertainer. He was a public intellectual who happened to speak through music.

Perhaps one of the clearest examples of Bhupen Hazarika’s foresight was his treatment of unemployment. Through ‘Auto Rickshaw Chalao Ami Duyo Bhai’, he urged young people to abandon the humiliating culture of endless waiting for government employment and embrace work and self-reliance. The song was about much more than driving an autorickshaw. It was about the dignity of labour. Yet decades later, government employment continues to occupy an almost mythical position in the aspirations of many educated Assamese youths. A secure government job is often treated as the ultimate symbol of success, while entrepreneurship, skilled work, small enterprise and self-employment may be regarded as inferior alternatives. This is the irony of our celebration of Bhupen.

We sing his message while resisting the social transformation it demands. In today’s world of artificial intelligence, automation and rapidly changing employment patterns, self-reliance is more relevant than ever. Education can no longer guarantee a conventional career. Young people need adaptability, enterprise and the confidence to create opportunities rather than merely wait for them. Bhupen Hazarika did not ask the youth merely to dream. He asked them to work.

Bhupen Hazarika also confronted caste prejudice. Through his song referring to Anamika Goswami and Prashanta Das and the obstacles surrounding their marriage, he brought the issue of inter-caste relationships into popular consciousness. India has changed enormously since independence, but caste has not disappeared. It still influences marriage, social relationships and, in many places, access to opportunity and dignity.

The contradiction is striking. We may possess smartphones, artificial intelligence, advanced scientific institutions and digital infrastructure while continuing to carry inherited prejudices in our minds. Technological advancement does not automatically produce moral advancement.

Bhupen’s progressive vision reminds us that genuine modernity means expanding human freedom and dignity. A society cannot call itself truly modern if people remain prisoners of caste, prejudice and inherited hierarchy.

Bhupen’s love songs reveal another dimension of his intellectual and artistic depth. In “Ki Je Tumar Sang, Priya, Ki Je Tumar Sang”, physical passion burns with unmistakable intensity: “Tumar angat jalanta jui, moi je patanga.”

The imagery recalls the passionate tradition of world literature, including Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress”. Yet Bhupen’s understanding of love was never limited to physical desire.In “Bimurt Mor Nishati Jen”, love acquires a more ethereal quality. And in his profound observation—

“Atma abhiman, jed aru khed,

premor rajyat sobha napay;

duyo dagdha hoy apon dukhot,

protikhone duyo duyo ke napay”— he reminds us that ego, stubbornness and resentment have no place in the kingdom of love. This is more than romantic poetry. It is a philosophy of relationships. In an age of instant communication but fragile emotional bonds, his message remains remarkably contemporary. Relationships require listening, compromise, forgiveness and mutual understanding. Love is not merely something we feel; it is something we learn to practise.

Many of Bhupen Hazarika’s songs carried a powerful concern for the oppressed. “Dola He Dola” evokes class exploitation, while “O Mor Dharitri Ai” expresses resistance against systems of domination. His concern was not poverty alone but the humiliation and powerlessness produced by inequality.

This remains a global issue. Across the world, enormous concentrations of wealth coexist with insecurity and deprivation. Yet societies increasingly respond to structural inequality through charity rather than justice. Charity can relieve suffering, but it cannot replace social justice. Bhupen Hazarika’s songs remind us that dignity cannot permanently be delivered as a favour.

Justice must become a right, not a gift. “Manuhe Manuhor Babe”: the unfinished human project. Perhaps no song expresses Bhupen’s universal humanism more powerfully than “Manuhe Manuhor Babe”. Its message is simple: human beings must care for other human beings. Yet humanity has repeatedly failed this apparently simple test. We live in an age of extraordinary technological connectivity but deep social fragmentation. Religion, ethnicity, nationality, class and political identity often become sources of division. A person can communicate instantly with someone on another continent while remaining indifferent to the suffering of a neighbour. This is one of modern civilization’s greatest paradoxes: Our capacity to connect has grown faster than our capacity to care.

Bhupen Hazarika’s humanism demands something deeper than tolerance. It asks us to recognise the dignity of the weak, the poor, the stranger and the different. What is the value of singing “Manuhe Manuhor Babe” if we cannot tolerate another person’s identity? What is the meaning of praising humanity while remaining indifferent to hunger, injustice and discrimination? We can sing the song easily. Living it is much harder.

The centenary celebrations across Assam are unquestionably worthy. The national recognition of Bhupen Hazarika’s contribution, including the commemorative Rs 100 coin issued by the Government of India, is equally significant. But commemoration should not end with concerts, speeches, portraits and ceremonies. A centenary should become a moral audit of society.

If we celebrate Bhupen while treating government employment as the only respectable career, have we understood him? If we sing against caste while opposing inter-caste marriage in our own families, have we understood him?

If we sing about the oppressed but remain indifferent to exploitation around us, have we understood him? If we sing “Manuhe Manuhor Babe” while cultivating hatred against another community, have we understood him?

If we praise his songs of love but allow ego and intolerance to destroy our relationships, have we understood him?

These questions are uncomfortable precisely because they expose the gap between cultural celebration and social practice.

Bhupen Hazarika’s legacy belongs not merely to Assam or India. His themes—inequality, unemployment, prejudice, human dignity, love, exploitation and communal harmony—are universal. His songs emerged from a particular landscape but speak to a global human condition. He understood something that modern civilisation repeatedly forgets: progress without compassion is merely sophistication without humanity. A society may become richer without becoming kinder, more educated without becoming wiser, and more technologically advanced without becoming more humane. The greatest tribute to Bhupen Hazarika, therefore, would not be another celebration. It would be a generation that chooses work over idleness, reason over superstition, equality over hierarchy, humanity over hatred and compassion over indifference. Let the unemployed youth hear his call to dignity. Let society hear his call to equality. Let lovers hear his call to humility. Let the oppressed hear his call to resistance. Let the powerful hear his call to responsibility. And let the divided hear his call to humanity. Ultimately, the true question of Bhupen Hazarika’s centenary is not how loudly we celebrate him, but how deeply we are prepared to change ourselves because of him. We should not merely preserve his voice in history. We must allow his voice to speak to the present—and to transform it.

(The writer can be reached at harshasarma183@gmail.com)