AM I U

My lungs are infected

My throat is bloating, choking

My breaths, heavy. Deep. 

I feel a suffocation

A strange strangling

I still smoke to alleviate suffering.

Am I you?

Thoughts.

Your work is never your own when it's done for others. Happiness is in feeling an ownership toward the work you do, because it allows you to develop your skills. I don't think I like anything I've done in recent years, apart from some music that I might have made for myself with the band. No design or art related work made me happy. I kept going because seeing myself grow skillfully made me happy. But whatever ownership I had for all the work I was doing was a fallacy. It was never mine or my collaborators' to begin with. The work was done for others, and I feel no sense of pride in that. So few are lucky enough to do work for themselves and have it be loved by others. And even fewer are happy to grow with their own work. They must feel lucky, even happy to some extent. Everything else that is material is meaningless.

30

So I turned thirty years old this month. I've been carrying a sad bag of tragedies and diseases for a long time now, but I was happy to make it till 30. Unfortunately, none of those could have amounted to what happened last week.

My father died in the most tragic way possible and it's not a memory that will fade with time easily.

I myself have a lung infection which, I can tell, hasn't healed because I've been smoking way too much since his passing.

My hopes and plans for thirty and the years ahead probably will remain the same. Be more successful, read more, see more, push myself more. However, I need to be there for my family even more now. I also need to look after myself, which I have failed at over the last decade.

I've learned to accept the monster inside of me, but I cannot accept the fact that I have no control over it. My soul weeps every day knowing that the people in my life are temporary and how I have never - and probably never will - learned to show affection and care for my loved ones properly. I wish I could see my father one last time and tell him how sorry I am and how much I loved him, but that chance is gone and I have to live with the guilt of his death all my life.

I love you, Abbu.
I am sorry.

Petty Never Grew - Signal

Early last year when Asif Hassan came to me and told me that the band wanted me to write and sing a song for them, I was in belief. It was a beautiful track, with the working title, Sundance, composed by their bassist, Asif Ayon(who is also my band's bassist, now). My first reaction was, "Why would I write a song? I can't write in Bangla." Asif told me to write the song in English. It took me quite a long time to settle on the lyrics, but after a few months, we jammed on the track, and the band seemed pretty indifferent about it. I didn't know if the band was really happy with what I made, so I reworked the lyrics at least 4 times, until a few months had passed and they wanted me to practice the song again before they started recording their album. Even after that rehearsal, I was convinced that I wasn't doing justice to their composition. That was the first time that Rushmian Wadud told me what he wants the song to be about. Surprisingly, I somehow wrote exactly what he wanted, and asked him if he had read the lyrics. He told me he hadn't. I don't think anyone other than Faruq Reza Mitul read each iteration of the lyrics that I would post in a facebook thread to keep the band updated. Mitul would reply after every iteration with a "joss" or "ending ta bhallagse" sort of comment. By then, I had already changed the name of the song to Signal even though the band kept referring to it as Sundance, which made me think I hadn't done a good enough job. Nevertheless, I set out to rewrite the song in Bangla, and that turned out to be an epic failure. A couple months before PNG re-entered the studio, I met up with Rushmian and asked him about what to do with Signal. He said, "Tilok bhai, just sing what you made. I just want to get the album out now."

Fast forward to 2019. The day of the recording: I enter Rakat Zami's cozy studio and Rushmian looks at me and says, "Lyric ta bhalo hoise".

---

I think this song is one of my proudest achievements. Not because I really like what I wrote, but because I made it to one of the best albums to come out of Bangladesh. I am not at all being biased, but stating what I really feel about the album. I don't know if we will ever see Petty playing together again, but they sure as hell left a dent in the ripple of many good music that's come out of the country. Thank you, Petty. You will be missed

Signal - Petty Never Grew

I was completely flabbergasted when Petty Never Grew asked me to sing a song for them last year. It was such an honor, because they caused a stir in 2016 when they released their debut single, The Pink Song. I kid you not, this band sounds like no one else. There a little bit of post rock, a little bit of dream pop, a lot of ambient, and some early 00's Bangla rock. It's unfortunate that the band will be parting ways upon the release of their first album, The Pink Album, on March 1st. 

The song I wrote for them is called Signal. It describes the inner turmoil that comes with loving someone in this current age and time. It's a conversation - a feud, between a young adult's head and  heart when the partner stops reciprocating by all means. A choice to be made about which emotion to side with, the selfish anger or the wishful thinking. The answer, however, is in plain sight. Perhaps the biggest signal of all, is no signal.

Signal falls into place with the concept of the album, which I am not allowed to disclose. I have heard the album in full already, and it truly is a beautiful album. A little over a half an hour - a crazy mixture of emotions which resolve all the way at the end.

-

SIGNAL
how did they make it in the age of letters when a day or two delay is putting fetters on our conquest? it's been over a month since i heard a word and i'm starting to think that you don't quite exist. i'm doing nothing but testing my patience and my heart is racing lesser and lesser each day. the day is my friend and the night is a brightly-lit hallway that never really, quite seems to end i held out too long i held on too long i hold it off i hold back i've been waiting for a signal i've been waiting for a sign a blank call would suffice a blank text is just fine and with every day that breaks i move closer to uncertainty can you blame me? take it as you please communication made us obsolete closer to the screen
i try to hold the stitches at the seams we fray away in modern fashion we're pushing buttons until we crash and we fray away (can you hear me?)

Bird's Eye View

As I grew older, 

The city unfurled itself to me, 

And in a moment it would shrink

And be texture-less much like that of 

A brown kite's wings having taken flight - 

     Places and time shrink over the years
     And I don't recall my grandparents' house

     Being so small when I visit them now. 

     I don't recall yesterday's birthday celebration

     With friends as a ten year old event  - 

These roads are so familiar

The vastness of my surroundings

In my youth is now long gone

Albeit the vastness of the world 

Is an appalling thought, my love

While you leave trails 

Where I may never go,

I can only imagine the speck

I've become in your vision. 

twenty ate teen.

Another year. Another blog post.

Let me break it down one by one.

1. Orfred.

Without a fixed goal in mind, I went headfirst into 2018 with the intent of reviving Orfred - a dead band, with a half-dozen, half-decent songs in the repertoire that piled up over the last eight years. It basically started at the end of 2017 with a goodbye note to the band members, stating that my time with them was swell, but I had to carry the project forward myself since we weren't being able to coordinate our timings. In the months that followed, several things occurred; Asif hopped back on board to help; I met our current guitarist, Pepe, thanks to a good friend of mine; I revamped our band-image; We hit the studio to record our first single off the album; I left my job and entered a two month transition period where I basically didn't have any money since I spent it all on recording; We mixed the new single with Rakat; We made two DIY music videos for the release of the single, thanks to amazing friends who pulled through for us at the last minute, all out of love; And we watched Orfred as it slowly rose out of its grave.

A few months later, Ayon joined us as the bassist, and we released another single, Crows.

Mission accomplished! But as dreamers do, we planned ahead for a whole album, and we managed to record the structures of 5 songs, and worked on a few new ones. Not to say that we hadn't gone through our slumps. Asif quit the band later on in the year after finishing his takes for the first five songs. However, as the year approached its end, we brought in another drummer and another guitarist, and we're set to finish the album in 2019.

I had only dreamed of recording an album with this band, and as possibilities dwindled, I lowered my expectations. I later decided that we would, instead, record a four-song EP. We did jack shit for years. Yet here I am with a whole new batch of boys, five songs into our debut record. Thus, 2018 was the year of Revival. The year of Orfred.



2. Fuck this shit, I'm out! 

So everything sounds dandy as fuck so far, but Orfred is something I do on the side. My day job as graphic design god totally fucked me up.  Apparently, I am not a god. I'm mortal. I thought I would die at my job in 2018, and despite this being a recurring feeling, during the year I lost count of how many times I fell ill.

A brief walk-through might help clear things up. Early 2018, I thought I had lost my balls. Then, I managed to get pharyngitis twice, all while coughing a lot and feeling really weak day in and day out. I  caught every viral flu that made it's way into Dhaka. I found out I have high cholesterol. I, also, totally fucked up my back more than ever before. If all of that isn't enough, I kind of didn't go so easy on my lungs either.

Everything would have been fine if I could pass these up as misfortunes. I can't blame God, or fate, or luck, because it all happened thanks to the nature of my work - almost no weekends for months, smoking in a non-ventilated office space, working late, and not getting the proper amount of sleep I needed. Not once did I barge in to say, No, I can't do it. In fact, that's really not what I should have said if I had to say something. What I really should have said was, "fuck this shit! I ain't doin' this!" But we're creatives. Our livelihoods depend upon good work and late hours, and last minute revisions and most of all, surpassing expectations - both the expectations of oneself and that of others.

We worked our asses off and we all raised a toast to ourselves and stared and smiled at each other in appreciation, dabbling in our own sense of achievement in a bokeh filled room, where the only people in focus were us. These moments are always somehow cinematic. Hard work really does pay off. BUT THAT'S NOTHING NEW FOR US! We've always delivered! We own the playing field. However, I literally almost killed myself this time, and in December I started taking things a bit slow, because I could feel my body giving up on me. So I've been taking breaks, making use of my, so called, flexible office hours, only to find out, it's too late now. Yeah, I've been pretty sick the last couple weeks, and it's only gotten worse. I reduced smoking to 2-3 sticks a day, albeit it's not helping as much as I thought it would. Long story short, I need to find a good doctor.

3. Loss

Death is inevitable.

Akeeb lost his father to a terrible road accident. Toward the end of the year, in October, Anik Arefin died at the age of 27. He was such a bright soul. We weren't very close, but it never seemed that way when we met, since we always found something to talk of.

In November, my cousin, Tanjim, died. Even though I had witnessed death before, this was the first time I was shaken by it. It completely woke me up to the idea that there's no coming back from death, and that life is shorter than we all think it is. I was devastated. And two week after that, my Nana (Grandfather) passed away. I didn't go and bury Tanjim, but I did go to Nana's burial. At the zanaza when I caressed his forehead for the last time, I remembered all that he meant to me, and how distant I became as I grew older. He was in his nineties, and he had lived a long, and - hopefully - fulfilling life. He fathered 6 daughters and 2 sons, and lived to see all his grandchildren. Nana's was the first deceased body I touched, and it was the first time I carried someone to their grave. The burial was peaceful. God bless. Yet, it was another reminder of how we will all leave, only to be forgotten.

2018, was a year of loss. Since I am getting older, I presume the future will see to it that I am bereft many more times given that my time here is as long as I want it to be.

4. 2019.

I see other people traveling, making a name for themselves, settling abroad, getting married, having kids, or giving time to their friends. It dawned on me that I am not doing any of these things and that I probably haven't lived life to the fullest. FOMO is very real, and it deepens in your late twenties. There's also the feeling that maybe I am going about life in the wrong manner. That people will start looking down on me unless I learn to dress, eat, and spend like adults do. This thought kept reshuffling itself at different periods. Not to a point that it turned into a complex, because I would easily be diverted towards other thoughts when I had things to do. That's the problem! I am almost never sitting idle. I almost always have a lot of things to do - mostly office work, and if not that, then I have my personal, creative shenanigans. Coming back to my point, I never found the time or energy to take action regarding changing myself, which is actually an advantage.

After all these years, I now know that I am not an ordinary person. I have never been ordinary. The times I thought I was ordinary, I had been wrong. There really is so much going on in my mind and so much I wish to accomplish for my own gratification, that I can't afford to lose myself in "living life".

So 2019 shall be about loving myself more than I do already. It has to be about survival. I need to survive for as long as I can, because there's never a definite answer to the question, "what next?" There is so much I haven't done for myself, and not setting out to do them would hurt me more than my regrets about not "adulting" properly.

I won't list my resolutions for the year in this post, but I will say this; I want to live. I can't afford to fall sick and die, and if I can manage to keep myself alive, sober, and stable, I know there's a lot to look forward to this year.

2019 will, inshaAllah, be the beginning of things of to come.