A Review of Muktir Gaan (The Song of Freedom) by Tareque Masud & Catherine Masud
Watching Muktir Gaan is not just as cinematic experience, it’s an emotional homecoming. For anyone who ever wondered how a nation finds its voice in the middle of a terribly brutal war, this documentary made by Tareque & Catherine Masud in 1995 provides a melodic, hauntingly painful and deeply moving answer.
The story behind the film is as intriguing as the film itself.
In 1971, American filmmaker ‘Lear Levin’ followed a troupe of young Bangladeshi musicians, the “Bangladesh Mukti Shangrami Shilpi Shangstha,” as they travelled through refugee camps and liberated zones. For twenty years, over twenty hours of his raw footage lay forgotten in a basement in New York until the Masuds tracked him down.
What they did with that footage—supplemented by archival clips from around the world—is nothing short of a miracle. They transformed historical data into a “road movie” of the soul, capturing the very spirit of the Bangladesh Liberation War.
The heart of the film is the cultural troupe. These were not soldiers with rifles, but artists with harmoniums and tablas. As they moved across the border and into the war-torn “Mukta Anchal” (liberated areas), their music became a weapon of resistance.
I was particularly struck by the scenes where they are seen singing and people’s faces are brought into focus, as if courage and hope was being poured into their weary souls. Almost as though you could see the light return to their eyes. There is a raw, unpolished beauty to their singing. They weren’t performing for fame or profit; they were singing to keep a dream alive, whether they were staging political puppet shows or singing patriotic hymns. Some of the iconic songs that they sang were, “Dhono Dhanno Pushpe Bhora” (Filled with wealth, foodgrain and flowers), “Era Shukher lagi” (They seek love for the sake of happiness), “Amar Shonar Bangla” (My golden Bengal) etc.
What makes “Muktir Gaan” stand out from other war documentaries is its focus on the “ordinary” moments. We see the musicians resting by the roadside, sharing simple meals with villagers, and laughing despite the surrounding tragedy. Watching women like “Naila Zaman” engage in discussions about crop production and the war’s progress offers a modern glimpse into the multifaceted roles women played.
There are moments that are both powerful and shattering at the same time, and there are things people say that break your heart, for instance: “We are not Hindu, we are not Muslims—we are Bengalis first!” Elsewhere, somebody brings “Roshogolla” (a popular Bengali sweet) and everybody gets excited at the prospect of having a taste of their homeland.
As the film closes with the lyrics “Amader sangram cholbey” (Our struggle will go on), you realize that the “mukti” in Muktir Gaan is not a destination, but a continuous journey. It challenges us to remember that the democracy and secularism fought for in 1971 require constant vigilance and reminiscence. The film ends on the note that people of that nation will never forget the lives lost but will remembering ever be enough?
Muktir Gaan is more than a movie; it is the heartbeat of a nation.
–Written by Anoushka Banerjee, 1st year, B.A. Hons. Film & New Media