For five nights at the end of November, the Army Stadium in Bangladesh's capital Dhaka was packed to the gills with music fans. The atmosphere was electric. Cheers and whistles rent the air. But it was not rock stars these fans were cheering for at the very top of their lungs – it was Pandits and Ustads.


The Bengal Foundation’s Classical Music Festival, the largest Hindustani classical music festival in the world in terms of the number of performers, attendance and duration, is held every November. Going by last year’s numbers, the attendance in 2015 was expected to have been upwards of 50,000 people on at least one of the nights, though the official figures are not out yet. The lineup included more than 40 artists, with Indian musicians such as Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, Ustad Zakir Hussain, Ustaad Shujaat Khan, Dr N Rajam, Pandit Hariprasad Chaurasia, Pandit Uday Bhawalkar, Ustad Wasifiuddin Dagar and other luminaries sharing the stage with Bangladeshi musicians as well as with the first batch of students from the newly-instituted Bengal Parampara Sangeetalay.


Boosting Bangladeshi music

The Sangeetalay is the dreamchild of Bengal Foundation’s founder Abul Khair, who hopes it will produce a crop of Bangladeshi musicians capable of holding their own against the greats. His other aim is to revive the practice of classical music in East Bengal, which produced sarod maestros such as Ustad Allaudin Khan, Ali Akbar Khan, flutist Pannalal Ghosh and sitar superstar Pandit Ravi Shankar.


Apart from giving budding Bangladeshi musicians space on the big stage, the festival has managed to take a rarified experience – often only accessible at festival halls, mehfils and darbars – and turn it into a popular and public event. Completely free of charge, the festival is enthusiastically attended by people from across Bangladesh, some of whom travel large distances, take time off work and stand in serpentine queues just to be there.


Immersed in the tranquil atmosphere, all sorts of people – young, old, fancy, muted, powerful, powerless, religious, atheist, cultured, chatty, reserved, crass – experienced the magic together in the open spaces of the stadium, sitting on the grass, on the bleachers, on park benches and on the chairs that have been laid out. Some of them were in their better clothes and all of them were on their best behaviour, as though the quality of the music had brought out their own finer qualities.


Fighting religious conservatism

Women navigated through thick crowds without being harassed, no one behaved abrasively and nothing obnoxious appears to had a chance of surviving in this elegant space, which was imbued with the enriching energies of sounds that were as therapeutic as they are sophisticated. Aficionados discussed the difference between Raga Tilok Kamod and Desh over cups of coffee or bowls of haleem. The artists had such perfect command over their voices and instruments, that just listening to them was an education on how good really good really is. But more insightful was the transformative effect of their devotion; they were the very embodiment of an elevated mind.


The soul-soothing experience was cheered on vigorously by 20-year-olds and 80-year-olds alike, in blue jeans or fabulous saris – a reception that the musicians said they had never had elsewhere. Inspired and enrapt, the crowd listened as they interspersed their music with commentary about their instruments or their performances, or about love, which they proclaimed was at the heart of what they do. This went down very well with the audience, who signalled their approval with a roaring applause.


It spoke to the heart of this land too, which, in spite of recent attempts by religious extremists to divide it, refuses to be burdened by the ugliness of hate. The Bengal Foundation opted to go ahead with the classical festival, fully cognisant of the extremists’ views on music. The people of Bangladesh, including many who wore hijabs and beards, voted with their feet and with their voices for more of it.