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Harry- My Heart is Down, Lost in Kingstontown


Monish Chatterjee
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Harry- My Heart is Down, Lost in Kingstontown
(Tribute to Harry Belafonte-
A true giant, a voice for the voiceless, who walked here in my lifetime)
Monish R Chatterjee, May, 2023

Harry Belafonte in his prime
Harry Belafonte in his prime
(Image by Playbill)
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Your life, every aspect of it, was like the mythical Philosopher's Stone-
The Paras Pathar, as we call it in India, and on which our own
Creative giant, Satyajit, made a film, cast in black and white, as does
Your life story, very black and white, near mythical.

Tutored as I was from age ten or earlier, by my Bengali housewife Mother
In a corner of India- about MLK, the scourge of slavery and the brutal
Racism of America, MLK's Dream- my knowledge, awareness and
Empathy multiplied tenfold once I actually arrived on these shores

And the evidence was everywhere, in documentaries, in the books,
In everyday life (the resistance to the MLK birthday started a chapter).
As little as I knew the true, ghastly face of the much-glorified
United States (including vague notions at best of their atrocities in

Vietnam, then in full swing)- I recall being totally enraptured by one Voice-
A voice of molten gold, a voice which bespoke of Jamaica and Calypso,
Its humanity, unrestrained rapture, bespoke of a long-oppressed people
Seeking freedom and salvation. Harry- even at a great distance, know

You reached untold millions worldwide, a bridge to humanity
So many such as myself caught the contagion of your lyrics- lyrics
Which brought out the agonies of oppressed hearts with unsurpassed
Poignancy- Come Mr. Tally-man, Tally me banana; Daylight come and we


Want go home. Then, as I grew closer to the history of the Civil Rights
Struggle and its glorious icons- I gradually became aware of your own
Consistent, inviolable participation in those history-making events-
Selma, Montgomery, so many others. Yours was not to simply revel

In the glow of your epochal music; your purpose was much higher-
Your heart and soul resonated with unmatched closeness to the Cause-
You joined ranks with MLK, Malcolm, Ali, the other luminant ones
A great wave of reawakening, there was- and, with your Calypso

You brought an entirely different dimension to the Great Struggle.
Yet, beyond your uplifting Caribbean melodies, you entered the
Innermost recesses of my heart via your utterly soulful, supremely
Stirring, Negro Spirituals. I must confess that even though I had long

Admired the incomparable Paul Robeson in years earlier, and the likes
Of Mahalia Jackson- my first encounter with several Negro Spirituals
Carried on your golden, deeply soulful voice, left an imprint to this
Day indelible inside my being. Those songs opened an entirely new

Vista for me- I realized suddenly that here was an astonishing creation
By long-oppressed Black freedom seekers which actually uses the
Christian imagery, but very differently indeed- most effectively
Establishing the brutality and inhumanity of those who shriek

The name of Christ the loudest. The contrast is absolutely deafening
To any awakened mind. Yet, not in one single place in these supreme
Compositions do I ever find any hatred, bitterness or vengefulness-
Which would all have been otherwise perfectly justifiable. These

Compositions offering solace to the oppressed, degraded and enslaved
Reach a level of nobility and grace which approach in my personal
Experience, only the sublime bhakti songs of Ramprasad, Kamalakanta
And Mirabai, and perhaps the Brahma Sangeet of Tagore. If, perchance

Your incomparable Caribbean melodies were to be lost to the world-
My utmost prayer would be that your spirituals survive- for they are
The embodiment of the noblest yearnings of the enslaved human,
Anywhere, triumphing in the domain of the mind over the ruthless

Slave-Masters and human traffickers. I recall meeting your one-time
Fellow "marcher to freedom," the Reverend James Bevel at an anti-war
Forum at Eastern Michigan University, protesting the criminal invasion
Of Iraq, early 2004, and noticing how much he was immediately drawn

To a volume of Tagore's English writings dealing with the human
Wasteland that was colonialism and its imperial counterpart. Of all
The human cries against imperial rampage- in East Asia, the
Middle East, Latin America, Africa, and of course here in the imperial

Headquarters, the US of A, almost forever in league with colonialists
And profiteers- I feel the deepest cries of anguish from enslaved
Africans are by far the most heart-rending. Harry- the muted
Messages of that anguish in your spirituals find their voice in Tagore's

Immortal Africa. Harry- along with Paul Robeson at the forefront,
Bob Marley and other seekers of freedom- you have relentlessly lent
Your voice to humanity seeking freedom, right through the freshest
Imperial rampages of the new millennium, including Iraq and Libya.

I think I heard him say- take my mother home.
This imagined cry from an agonized Christ about to be crucified-
So closely approaches the deepest apprehension of a mother's
Bursting heart witnessing the (enslaved) son's brutal degradation.

Bring a little water, Sylvie, bring a little water- now!
Picture the enslaved prisoner (still many victims of racism today)
Crying out for drops of water to soothe their parched lips. And
There is always the compassionate woman ready to reach out.

There's joy in my father's house.
The Father's (heavenly or here on earth) house is the ultimate refuge.
And the joy therein is exactly replicated in Tagore's most uplifting
Aji shubhadine pitar bhabane amrita sadane cholo jai.

Matilda- she take me money and run Venezuela.
And your music was not all other-worldly- they were a product
Of everyday life- humor, irony, deceit, perplexity- it covered
The gamut. Here a hapless fellow gets conned by a wily woman.

The woman piaba and the man piaba.
Within which you laid out the ultimate truth- the very best of
Our human compatriots know not the answer to many fundamental
Questions - and not limited to only "'bout the bird and bee."

Jump in the line, rock your body in time (shake, senora).
And there, unforgettably, was young rebel Winona Ryder
Floating effortlessly over the staircase railing, rocking her body
In time. Whether in Beetlejuice, or a hundred other places-

Harry, you ruled the roost, time and again. Your creativity and
Its vibrancy knew no limits. You brought untold joy and positive
Affirmation, while within the sanctum sanctorum, your spirit
Was crushed by the persistent, grave injustice haunting our world.

In their younger years, I introduced my son and daughter to your
More popular melodies- the Jamaica Farewell, Mama Look a Boo Boo,
More. Your soulful spirituals I hope they will discover on their own-
The searching spirit often finds them naturally.

Yet, inexorably, the time for the great Farewell has now arrived
And, left with a world impoverished by your absence- gone from us
Are Poitier, Vidal, Tutu, Zinn and many shining lights- all we have left
Is the wish- come back Harry, come back in all your glory
With you there is no Farewell; come back to this verdant earth
Where, with all its kinks, Life flourishes.

Ramprasad Sen- Bengali devotional composer and poet (1718/23-1775).
Kamalakanta- Bengali devotional composer, yogi, poet (1769-1821).
Mirabai- 16th century Princess of Rajputana, who became a devout servant of Krishna.
Aji shubhadine, pitar bhabane, amrita sadane cholo jai-
On this auspicious day, let us proceed to Our Father's House of Eternal Life. Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), Brahma Sangeet.

URLs for HB songs discussed:

Take my mother home:
Click Here

Bring a little water, Sylvie:
Click Here

In my Father's house:
Click Here

Matilda:
Click Here

The woman piaba and the man piaba
Click Here

Jump in the line
Click Here

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Monish R. Chatterjee received the B.Tech. (Hons) degree in Electronics and Communications Engineering from I.I.T., Kharagpur, India, in 1979, and the M.S. and Ph.D. degrees in Electrical and Computer Engineering, from the University of Iowa, (more...)
 

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