A Blunder brother, a poet of the spoken word

 Eldest friends or brothers often internalise an unwritten rule that they must ensure the safety of their younger pals. The weight of carrying a deceased younger friend is a distressing, emotional and psychological burden that is disrupting, not only mine, but all the kin of the soul. Somehow, that natural order is forever wounded. Rushnaf was larger than life and had a profound impact on all of us.

For those who didn’t know him well, he was the front-man of one of the most prolific indie rock bands of Bangladesh, Blunderware and was the main vocalist with The Attempted Band (TAB) while recording their concept studio album Agoon O Moushumi in 2020. Fans of Blunderware dubbed them and members of the band as “Blunder Brothers” as being close to them meant you’re part of the family. Due to a cosmic connection with Rushnaf and to respect his family, this author is omitting discussion of his physical complications.

During the latter years, leading to his death on October 12, he looked like an urban Jesus in his guitar-slinging carefree, unapologetic attire, preaching life’s hymns. Be it “Maagh”, “Pataye Pataye”, “Afim Chaash" or arguably Blunderware’s magnum opus – “Mosharir Ei Din Ratri” - he sported a deep and striking baritone voice of a spoken-sung, narrative delivery style. His style dealt traditional rock-god belt and vocal exercises for intimate authority and atmosphere. His storytelling used the lower registers of his voice to create a personal, poetic, and imaginative expression.

A voice built for intimate storytelling

Long-time confidante, composer and guitarist of Blunderware and fellow comrade of Rushnaf, Moktadir Dewan Shanto grew wiser with him both physically and musically. Shanto recalls, “I first met Rushnaf in 2008, when I was playing with the Chittagong-based rock and metal band Act of Defiance. Most of Blunderware’s members, particularly Salman and Mushfiq, were his childhood friends, and I got to know him through an event I organised where they performed as HiMeSh, in many ways, the precursor to Blunderware. Later that year, Rushnaf asked me to join the band as a guitarist, something I had never imagined doing full-time, but he somehow saw a place for me in it. Our friendship deepened through the music we made together, composing songs like “Maagh (Megh)” and "Mosharir Ei Din Raatri”, while I grew as a musician”.

Shanto continues, “I explored other genres and developed my beatboxing, which he creatively incorporated into Blunderware’s sound, most notably in “Gouro (Prem Koro Na Shondhakaale)”. Rushnaf could be absolutely unhinged when it came to criticism, never holding back if he thought something could be better, but when he liked something, he would be tenfold more supportive, albeit in his own very Rushnaf way. He never simply told me what I wanted to hear, and perhaps that was why his words stayed with me. Even as I pursued interests beyond the band, he remained invested, always finding something to suggest, challenge or make me reconsider. Just recently, when my a cappella and beatbox group, Beatmosphere, got the opportunity to perform abroad, Rushnaf sent me ideas, plans and concepts for our performance. He was still imagining possibilities and finding ways to contribute to someone else’s music. That was the last thing he did for me before he passed away. It hurts to think that someone who had so much more to give was still giving right until the end. I didn’t just lose a friend and bandmate; I lost someone who helped shape the musician I became. Someone, whose criticism pushed me forward and whose support, however unconventional, meant more than he probably knew. We made music together, but there were so many more songs and conversations ahead of us. I suppose that is what hurts the most: knowing that somewhere in the music still to come, there will always be a little bit of Rushnaf missing”.

Heavily acoustic blues, indie and alternative influenced, “Mosharir Ei Din Ratri” is a quintessential song of separation, heartbreak and melancholy. Rushnaf’s vocals composed a tune which is essential for songs of this overpowering parting. The lyrics were written by him as well and it came from the quiet and discounted details of everyday life. Its title plays on the name of the legendary 1985 Bangladeshi television drama series Ei Shob Din Ratri and carries a lot of ethos from that generation and uniquely blends with the post-millennial Bengali psyche of today.

The song translates to "I am tired of these days and nights inside the mosquito net, my back whispers to yours. How much longer will we live in separate breaths? The moonlight reflects on your wet cheek, and I don't want to pretend anymore inside this torn mosquito net. Slept?... I know you are not asleep." - The words and music are so majestic that the song acts as a magnifying lens for life’s smallest and most meaningful moments. It’s so philosophical that it helped me navigate through my own life’s despair.

Founding member of TAB, Arafat Kazi was emotional describing Rushnaf, “I don't know how to explain Rushnaf's influence on our band and on me. He wasn't just our singer. His spirit was always wanting more, more love more music more knowledge, his impossibly high standards, the purity of his art. All of it changed us. None of us took art as seriously as he did. Whatever he did, he did with his full soul. He wasn't just my friend. He was my teacher”.

Rushnaf with Blunderware was never short of musical brilliance and surprises. He would often cover his most favourite songs. Blunderware covered another band Breach’s “Apon” and Rushnaf and the band deeply admired the band. Ashraful Abedin Khan, the front-man of the rock band Breach took to the socials after his demise, memorializing Rushnaf with the words, “Words can’t express how much impact you had on me when I needed it. The conversations would revolve around what could’ve been and what should’ve been and when Blunderware will finally get an album out because the world needed to hear them, and Rushnaf’s voice, oh that voice”.

Fellow muso and author of Rock Jatra, Milu Aman reminisced, “Rushnaf was never afraid to show his respect. He also didn’t hold back anything and always spoke his mind. In your times of trouble, he’d reach out to you, inspire you, would give you feedback and critique your work. He would simplify you and classify you. He always poured his heart out in every song he sang. He was a magnificent artist, he was in agony and was full of love”.

Coming back to my own relationship with Rushnaf, it was deep and personal – he was a brother from another mother. He and I would often chat about music, lyrics and his favourite local and international artistes. In fact, he often tried to persuade me to develop a fondness for their song “Afim Chaash”, which I couldn’t connect with. However, we came to terms that it is indeed an acquired taste. I will miss bantering like this. I didn’t just lose a friend and a brother but also someone who inspired me to lead a life of melody, be it dark or of happy tunes. May he rest in music!