My dad and his entire family were the war survivors. They all got detached from each other before and during the war, and later reunited at the end.
As a war survivor, my grandma took a moment to share a specific incident with me in the morning of 26th March 2020, also known as Shadhinota Dibosh, Bangladesh Independence Day.
During 1971 War of Liberation (war against east Pakistan and Bangladesh. India, who was our ally). There was a time where my grandma, her three girls and younger son (born after my dad) were stranded and seeking shelter in India. No one provided them shelter. The place was in the border of Bangladesh and India. It was raining cats and dogs with heavy lightning and roaring thunder. In the dark jungle, they ended up tying mosquito nets from branches to branches and put a polythene on top to prevent themselves from getting wet. They were stuck there whole night; there were so many other who did not even that much shelter and were scattered in the darkness waiting impatiently to feel their beds, warm clothes and hugs from the loved ones.
The painting depicts the only sound that was in existence, which was their heartbeats, the sound of thunderstorms and war progressing fear. Usually when a mother is putting her children to sleep, she will sing a lullaby to put them to sleep, and in this case, to distract them to not be afraid of thunderstorm or lightning. I pictured the only form of music, the nature and the music of the survivors’ feelings and heart.
My analogy comes from the B flat symbol which looks like Bb. The reason why I have chosen to put the thought through this note is because of the flat tone, creating a common sounding note, such as a heartbeat that everyone has but it is unique in everyone’s chest, even my own country Bangladesh has a sound. To me, it sounds like like an instrument of war, where many would have a flat tone for death of loved ones, or flat tone to end the war as a victory with the greatest sounding heartbeat.
I drew the attention with a sitar showing how those darks days were filled with the music of heartbeats and terrors and the sound travels from the neck to stomach, making them weep out their sounds. How the colours green and red are highly represented in the fog where the sitar plays to freedom and victory of those who suffered and lost precious souls. My aunt Beauty and her family are survivors amongst all.