Why should one listen to classical music? This question may well have crossed your mind, just as it once crossed mine. What follows is simply a sharing of the thoughts and feelings that gradually took shape in my own mind over time. To arrive at an answer, however, one must read this piece with patience. If patience is not something you are inclined to offer, then perhaps it would be wiser to abandon the journey into classical music here and now. But if you are willing to take that risk, then let us proceed.
Why listen to classical music?
By birth, we arrive in this world equipped with certain basic capacities of sensation—those that can be felt directly through the body. Hunger, sleep, sexuality, pain, the sensation of heat or cold: these are experiences common to almost all human beings. The awareness of them, and the urge to satisfy them, is more or less universal. Education or experience makes little difference in this regard.
Alongside these physical sensations, we are also born with certain fundamental emotions: joy, excitement, love, and affection. Yet the development and expression of these emotions depend greatly on the environment and circumstances in which we grow up.
Our innate sensations and emotions are, in truth, quite limited and primitive. The ways of satisfying them are equally primitive. To recognise their absence—or to fulfil them—requires no special skill, learning, or experience. Nature has already equipped us with nearly everything required at birth.
Yet beyond these inborn sensations and emotions lie countless other forms of experience and feeling. Over the long course of human civilisation, people have gradually discovered new ways of feeling, perceiving, and understanding the world—through evolution, learning, and accumulated experience. One only becomes aware of these richer layers of perception when the body and mind are ready to receive them. To experience these newly discovered forms of perception requires education; and to fulfil them often demands particular skills, knowledge, or cultivated taste. The realms of art, aesthetics, and refined sensibility belong precisely to this category.
Those individuals throughout history who have exercised their minds a little more than the rest—though one might equally accuse them of possessing overly idle imaginations—have rarely been satisfied with fulfilling only their most primitive needs. To satisfy a deeper hunger, they transformed even those basic impulses into something richer and more sophisticated. They moved beyond the boundaries of simple, native food in search of diverse flavours, creating elaborate culinary traditions. They moved beyond ordinary sexuality and developed systems such as Kama Shastra. From the imagination and curiosity of such creative minds emerged what we now know as sport, art, literature, and music.
Let us consider an example.
Shilpacharya Zainul Abedin’s 1976 painting Struggle is something that almost anyone can appreciate at first glance. Even without understanding the deeper meaning of oil painting as a medium, or the extraordinary craftsmanship of Zainul Abedin himself, most viewers instinctively feel drawn to it. That initial admiration requires no special knowledge. But if you wish to appreciate the painting more profoundly, you must step further inside it. You need to learn about its background, its historical context, and the details of the artist’s craftsmanship. Once you do so, the painting begins to transform before your eyes. You start to notice layers of meaning that previously remained hidden.
Gradually you begin to see in the image the enduring struggle of the Bengali people to survive against long oppression and adversity. The mud and debris become metaphors for the obstacles of life, while the bull’s desperate effort symbolises an indomitable determination to overcome those barriers.
If you possess even a modest understanding of anatomy, you will notice how the artist has constructed the composition through a series of dynamic lines, generating an intense tension throughout the painting. Within the body of the bull there is a dramatic interplay of muscular contraction and expansion—an extreme contraction of effort. The ribs pressing sharply against the animal’s skin reveal the physical agony of the moment. It appears as though the creature is struggling to draw breath with lungs on the verge of bursting. That rigid tightening of the muscles is, in essence, the very image of struggle.
Look more carefully and you will observe that the bull’s spine is not straight; instead it forms a perfect arc, like the curve of a drawn bow. According to the principles of physics, such an arched structure can withstand the greatest amount of stress. In this way, Zainul Abedin subtly merges anatomical accuracy with mechanical principles. The bull’s forelegs are planted firmly into the ground while the hind legs stretch backward, clearly indicating that the animal has lowered its centre of gravity close to the earth. Meanwhile, the downward tilt of the head suggests that the entire force of the body is being channelled upward from the ground through the axis of the wheel.
Perhaps the most fascinating aspect is the artist’s magical freedom. On close inspection, one notices that the proportions of the bull’s neck and hindquarters have been deliberately altered. This exaggeration amplifies the scale and ferocity of the struggle. In reality, an ordinary bull might not be capable of bending its body to such an extent. Yet in Struggle, Zainul stretches anatomical reality in order to convey a superhuman force. In the language of art this technique is known as aesthetic distortion—where the grammar of realism is extended so that a deeper truth may be expressed with greater intensity.
A viewer familiar with artistic craftsmanship will also notice that Zainul has deliberately avoided any softness in his brushwork. The painting is constructed with rough, forceful brush strokes. This rugged texture is intentional. When one depicts a battle for survival, smooth and polished layers of paint would feel inappropriate. Every coarse stroke of the brush seems to capture the friction of mud and the sweat upon the animal’s body.
Pay attention as well to the use of negative space. The background is kept remarkably simple; the artist refrains from cluttering it with unnecessary details. Because of this restraint, the viewer’s gaze has nowhere else to wander—it is drawn immediately to the bull and the wheel at the centre of the struggle. This sense of measured restraint gives the painting much of its power.
The choice of colour reveals an equally striking discipline. Zainul does not fill the canvas with bright reds or blues. Instead, the entire composition is dominated by earthy tones—deep browns, greys, and dark shadows. These colours evoke the scent of muddy rural paths in Bengal, grounding the painting firmly within its landscape. The ability to express profound emotion through a limited palette is one of the defining qualities of a master craftsman.
Finally, there is the extraordinary sensitivity of Zainul’s line work. He is often called a magician of lines, and for good reason. With only a few strong strokes he suggests the skeletal structure and muscular tension of the animal. Without elaborate ornamentation, he conveys the entire anatomy of effort. This ability to say so much with so little—what we might call a form of minimalism—is precisely what elevates Zainul Abedin to the stature of a world-class artist. Through lines alone, he does not merely draw a form; he weaves into it both anguish and stubborn resolve.
For a more detailed discussion of this painting, you may visit the website of our Gurukul Art & Culture, where the work is explored under the title: “Struggle” (1976), an oil painting by Zainul Abedin.
A connoisseur of art could easily write several more pages analysing the qualities and nuances of this painting. I must admit that I am not particularly well-versed in visual art, so I shall refrain from venturing too far down that path. Nevertheless, I hope the example makes one thing clear: when we approach something with prior knowledge or understanding, the same object reveals far richer layers of beauty and meaning. This holds true for almost every artistic medium. The deeper one goes into the details and subtleties, the greater the joy one discovers. Of course, what you see may not be exactly what I see. Perspectives may differ, yet neither perception is empty. Just as I may carry one detailed viewpoint, you too will develop a perspective uniquely your own.
Music works in much the same way. When you listen to Kazi Nazrul Islam’s song “Harano Hiyar Nikunjo Pothe”, you may naturally enjoy its melody and emotional resonance. But if, while listening, you recognise that the song is based on Raga Bageshri, and if the mood and colour of that raga begin to unfold in your mind, then the song reveals an entirely new dimension. Within the same composition you begin to discover fresh shades of meaning, and with that discovery comes a distinct and deeper pleasure.
At this point, let me say something plainly. Those who feel completely satisfied after fulfilling only their most basic instincts and desires—those who believe life is already full enough—may safely stop reading here. For them, this article need not go any further.
But for those who are willing to take a step beyond the obvious—to invite a little extra complication into their lives in order to experience subtler feelings, to search for nourishment for that deeper hunger and thirst—this somewhat mad exploration of mine will continue.
In this context, Rishabh Bhowmick once expressed a thought in his own way: