You'll see, one day you too

One. I’m heading home after listening to James sing. I’ve screamed to my heart’s content, jumped to my heart’s content, flung my arms and legs about to my heart’s content. My voice is hoarse, my body aches, yet I’m so happy! Around me were friends, super-cool junior brothers and sisters. I was amazed to see their love. I used to think that those who study engineering don’t really pay much attention to me. How wrong I was. At my university, I’m no longer an outcast.

And, our day ended with James!

Let me share some observations.

A James sings songs, makes others sing; he dances, makes others dance. It’s no easy task. It takes years of devotion to become a James. When he sang parts of song lines, we screamed out the rest. These songs have mixed with our blood—if we don’t scream them out, we find no peace. They don’t just mix with blood on their own; for that, you must first shed your own blood.

How crazy a fan can become—you can’t understand this unless you see such artists up close (meaning ‘standing in front of the stage’). Even if he just stands there with a guitar in hand, or makes sounds like “uya owa repappa rerepappa” with his mouth, we still love it, we keep screaming along to the song. For some people, mere presence is enough. The feeling that a James is there before us—even that gives us joy.

He is professional. One hundred percent professional. He knows what needs to be done, he knows what doesn’t need to be done. When to start, when to stop—he understands it all very well. What to say, how much to say, when to say it—it’s all within his grasp. He knows we love him. He understands that an entire generation has grown up listening to his songs, and another generation is growing up now. The future will tell its own story in its own time. Whatever happens, some of his songs will remain till the very end. They will! Perhaps he knows this himself.

Such greatness enchants us, amazes us. We love to think that we were born in James’s time, that we grew up then. When we know that a James will take the stage, we can simply wait for him alone. Without unimaginable labor and perseverance, a James cannot be made. Along with that, the habit of showing the middle finger to some people’s neglect, harsh words, and taunts. In that group are some people whose words we heed, but whose words truly have nothing worth heeding. Think about who they are—you’ll find them, you’ll understand them. Whether there’s anything worth heeding or not, time itself will tell.

I tell the juniors: those of you who can sing, take photos, draw, write, or do anything else that your friends cannot—truly, there’s no greater treasure, no greater opportunity than this. It’s a gift from God. Honour it! Practice it, keep practicing, no matter how hard it gets, never let go of that gift. You’ll see, one day you too….

Don’t believe it? Look into it and see—the day would come in James’s life when he’d have today, though perhaps he himself didn’t think so at one time. Even if you don’t become a James, you can still become someone that many will point to and say, “Ah, if only I could be like that!” Some father will tell his child, “Look, you must become like him.”

You’re studying, continue doing so; you need a certificate to avoid certain troubles and survive in this world. But to live during that survival time, to remain distinct in at least some people’s eyes, you need something extra that no university in the world can give you—you must earn it yourself… by giving yourself hardship, by continuously bearing blows, by falling in love with your passion.

Do you know why I said all this? The person who can do their work of love so well that no one else can match them—I love that person, I respect them. I place such a person on the seat of an artist. Become an artist… you can do it. We didn’t come into this world just to get good results.

Two. Aunty, you’ve gotten quite old now, yet you’re still cooking, still teaching everyone. Take some rest now. You’ve been at it for so long! How much longer?
: No, child… until I find someone in this area who cooks better than me, I’ll have to keep cooking. Only when I find someone like that will your aunty get a break!

This was from 2004. At that time, I was engaged in the noble duty of teaching and educating children from all over the world! I used to tutor a student named Hridoy near the GEC intersection in Chittagong. His mother cooked extraordinarily well. Among all the home-cooked meals I’ve had in this life, Aunty’s cooking was the best. She had elevated the work of cooking to the level of art. Hridoy’s house was the only place where I would shamelessly lick clean whatever snacks they served. Many days I stayed for dinner after finishing the tutoring session. (In this life, the two or three houses where I’ve eaten without invitation, Hridoy’s house was one of them.) Even if Aunty just fried ordinary eggplant for snacks, eating it made me feel that better eggplant fritters were impossible to make.

Aunty had grown old, was unwell, and had a weak body. Even with that broken-down body, she did all the household cooking herself, and when she couldn’t cook with her own hands, she would sit on a stool in the kitchen and give various instructions to Hridoy’s sisters-in-law about their cooking. When there was any function at someone’s house in the area, Aunty’s presence in that kitchen was almost indispensable! When someone wanted to learn cooking, she would teach them with great enthusiasm. Aunty did all this from the heart’s calling, not in exchange for money. (In that area, Hridoy’s family was probably the wealthiest.) Aunty looked upon me like her own son, loved me so much that whenever she cooked something special at home, even if it wasn’t my tutoring day, she would call and ask me to come. I would go too—I don’t have the mental strength to ignore the call of selfless love.

Aunty was illiterate. She had never been to school. Even so, in my eyes, she remains a great artist to this day, and will always remain so worthy of respect. She loved cooking immensely and feeding her cooking to others. She never got tired while cooking; people don’t get tired doing work they love. To cook as well as she knew how, to cook with such confidence, to teach cooking to others with such satisfaction—for all that, one needs to be not just a chef, but an artist. Cooking is one of the greatest arts in the world. I love and respect those whose cooking is good.

Think about it—how well must a person be able to do their work to be able to say, “No one else can do this work better than me!” At the moment when an artist paints, they feel that no one in this world can paint better than them. At the moment when a photographer clicks their camera, they feel that no one in this world can take better pictures than them. At the moment when a poet is writing a poem, they feel they are writing the best poem in the world. At the moment when a singer is singing, they feel that no better artist than them has yet been born in this world… This is called binding oneself, throwing down a challenge—to present oneself as the best, to perfect one’s work, to remain flawless even in the critic’s eye.

…Such thoughts and their relentless practice, even if it’s the madness of an obsessed person, makes a human into a different kind of human. So different that everyone looks at them with awe, and even if they dislike them outwardly, they’re forced to admit inwardly: He is a genius! Those who are such artists unconsciously follow certain codes. Let me mention one for now. For many years, every single day, they do their work of love a little better than the day before. Somehow or other, they do it! Perhaps they spend five more minutes, perhaps they pay a little more attention, perhaps they give themselves a little more hardship than the day before. This happens every day. Every day… a little bit more!

In this context, I’m reminded of a teacher from CUET. Ashfaq sir from the CSE department. When he taught in class, he did so with such confidence and mastery of the subject that it was enjoyable to attend his classes. We could sense that while there might be someone who could teach what sir was teaching better than him, we had no desire that was beyond sir’s capability to fulfill. He never came even a minute late to class, presented the subject very easily and fluently. His teaching style, manner of speaking and looking, personality, and refined behavior were enchanting to witness. The entire concept of what he was teaching was crystal clear in his mind. He made quiz, class-test, and final exam questions easy, and gave marks generously in papers. Extraordinary teachers don’t need to be extraordinary by making questions difficult and giving students fewer marks. Beyond teaching, there are many other things that make teachers memorable. Sir was also very handsome to look at, many girls had crushes on him. I didn’t envy sir, I loved him. I can’t envy those who are great, I end up loving them! I had named sir: Mister Never-Behind!… Let me mention another sir: Saif sir. We had him for only a few days, but we still remember him. He was the first person whose class made us feel—we can do this too! (I’ll write about the other teachers in some other piece.)

Anyway, let me return to the paragraph before the previous one… Through such continuous practice, they eventually become unique. So unique that they can say… I know you cannot do this better than me. You may hate me, you may envy me, you might even remove my father-given head from my neck in an instant, but you can never become ‘me’.
They—
Can say like Shah Rukh Khan: I am the best!
Can throw down a challenge like Mohammad Ali: I am the greatest!
Can call themselves like Ronaldo, without caring: Your love makes me strong, your hate makes me unstoppable!

You’re thinking, all this swagger?
Arrogance? You’ve muttered to yourself, “Pride goeth before a fall…blah blah blah!” Ask yourself this: can you speak with the same damn-don’t-care attitude as a Virat Kohli? What do you have that would justify speaking like that?
You don’t deserve to be arrogant! Let me put it plainly: what you see in them isn’t arrogance—it’s self-confidence, or the realization of truth! You and I have never encountered anything like that, which is why it sounds like arrogance to us. Those who deserve their pride don’t need to fall. It’s not pride but unearned arrogance that leads to downfall! They know how to keep themselves at that peak, day after day.

Here’s the thing—there’s really no such thing as going against the current.
Every river flows in its own direction. Every person is their own river. So naturally, one river’s current won’t match another’s—isn’t that obvious? You’re not going against the current;
you’re actually following your own natural flow. Because that current is unfamiliar to them, they call it “against the current” and give their brains a holiday. Why not flow with that current instead! Great rivers have their own currents; to smaller rivers, these always seem strange,
frightening…sometimes, even contemptible. That’s where the fun lies! On roads less traveled, even running feels comfortable. On crowded roads, even walking isn’t pleasant!

Let me end with another gem from guru Shah Rukh Khan:
Love me or hate me………..but you cannot ignore me.

(I know for certain that even those who dislike me,
who dismiss me publicly, the distinguished senior members of the Sushanto-Haters-Club,
even they secretly read at least some of my writing, listen to some of my words…visit my wall. I’ll remain grateful to them till my dying day.
Without them, I couldn’t burn myself anew each day. I love striving for perfection—not so much because I love perfection, but far more to create some discomfort for my esteemed haters. Whatever they say about me,
they cannot question the integrity of my work. (Of course they’ll speak ill of me—otherwise how would they keep their jobs!)

Let me tell you something, friend! You know why they can’t stand you?
Because they couldn’t become like you. They tried, but failed. Just accept it, boss! Don’t kick them—kick yourself instead, and keep moving forward—every day,
bit by bit. They won’t be able to; they’ll remain stuck right there…you can be certain and peaceful about that!)

Three. When you go to a salon, after the haircut is done,
they hold up a mirror behind your head and ask, “Sir, please check if the back looks alright!”

I never give any opinion on this matter.
I always say, “You check it yourself once. I won’t be able to tell by looking.
If you’re happy, I’m happy too.”

Why do I say that?

I saw a wonderful film called ‘Shabda.’ The main character is named Tarak. Tarak is a
sound artist. His job is creating various sounds for films. He’s utterly devoted to his work. Ideas for creating sounds are constantly buzzing in his head.
No new sound that others might overlook can escape Tarak’s ears. Never. Every sound is like a jewel to Tarak. Tarak has always been indifferent to money. In the film industry,
no one matches Tarak in sound creation. Detached from many worldly matters, Tarak is somewhat eccentric—as many geniuses tend to be.

One day. While placing his half-finished tea cup on the table,
Tarak startles! What happened! The sound of placing a half-drunk tea cup on the table is like this! Such a mistake has occurred! Oh no! Now what?

Yes, some days ago Tarak had created sounds for a film.
That film had even gone to final editing. For a scene in that film where a tea cup is placed on the table, Tarak had created the sound using an empty tea cup. But in that scene, the tea hadn’t been finished yet. Empty tea cups and half-drunk cups make different sounds when placed on tables.

Tarak rushed to the director. A mistake has happened.
The sound I made isn’t right. The scene shows a half-drunk tea cup, but I used the sound of an empty cup.
I want to create that sound again.

Are you crazy, Tarak? The film is almost finished! Now it’s impossible to insert that sound again.
Forget it! What’s done is done! Besides, no one will catch such a detail!
Has anyone ever thought so minutely? That empty and half-drunk cups sound different—nobody even knows that! Nothing will happen. No need to change it.
That sound will work fine!

Alright, I accept that. Maybe no one will understand.
But I understand, I know there’s a mistake there. Why should Tarak make this mistake?

…Why should Tarak make this mistake?—one of the best dialogues I’ve ever heard. What level of confidence and dedication must a person have to say such a thing! Tarak himself knows that no one would notice such a subtle difference. He also knows that despite everything,
this is a mistake, and while ten other sound artists might make this error, Tarak cannot. Not everyone becomes Tarak, which is why Tarak could become Tarak. Throwing such challenges at oneself, binding oneself to the responsibility of perfection, making one’s work flawless first in one’s own eyes, being able to recognize the finest thing—this is something great. Not everyone can do it; it requires immense skill and self-confidence. To reach there, infinite practice is needed.

Let me return to the haircut matter. Whether there’s any flaw in the haircut,
the person who cut it will understand far better than I ever could. So what matters is whether the work meets his own standards. If it does,
then there’s nothing for me to see. I won’t be able to catch any subtle mistakes.
And if he understands there’s a flaw but knows I won’t catch it, and makes me happy while staying happy himself, then so be it!
If someone wants to live their life fooling themselves, let them! Not everyone will understand the joy of greatness. Sometimes it happens that I don’t like how the hair was cut, but they can’t do it any better than that. In such cases, it’s better to say nothing and go to a different salon next time. One needn’t hurt mediocre people’s feelings.