INFECTING THE LISTENER’S NERVES – Nachiketa Chakraborty: Life is visible only in the sun

A voice slightly nasal spinning around stark colloquialisms

Sometimes we fall asleep quickly, other times sleep is slow to arrive, even if we have walked many hours through the streets of Kolkata. No problem: tune in to a local radio station and read a few pages from a novel by Vikram Seth. Instruments vocals, harmonium, guitar. Musical genres Urban Folk, Indian Classical, Nachiketa Music. For your soundtrack, you find Nachiketa Chakraborty music also in Amazon In 1993, his first album was released, becoming an instant hit. He started composing and performing as a student in a college affiliated of the University of Kolkata. His colloquial language hit Bengali music in the early 90s. Nachiketa Chakraborty was born in Kolkata, where gradually he drew listeners from all age groups.

He is associated with Bengali music and has also released a few popular albums. He has also worked in Bollywood. He is famous singer, songwriter, and composer, very popular among today’s youth generation. Nachiketa Chakraborty changed the age-old concept of Bengali lyrics. He is, for a certain generation, a synonym for youth and change. During his early ages, most of his compositions were youth-oriented. Gradually he composed all types of music. Nachiketa Chakraborty said to be a supporter of Mamata Banerjee. He is like a grammar of protest, known for his modern Bengali lyrics, popularly termed as JeebanMukhi.

OLD MAN – The boy is my exceptional man, exceptional officer. I cannot see the upper floor on the upper floor. Various things and furniture are expensive. I was the only weaker person. My son has great respect for me. My address is so old. The sideboards and mirrors I use cannot be placed in the old apartment. Her father’s photograph, watch and cane disappeared early. Give up, who to play the old pet windfall. Spouses and places are very few. My address is so old. Nobody could eat rice in his hands. Would I say what to do if I was a fool? Khoka cries with my lips and listens to me. The child cannot cry, neither understand nor hear. In his childhood, he dreamed of crying. I held my hands close to my chest with my two hands. Two hands keep looking, forgetting exactly that. My address is now old age. Khokar has been a boy for two years. And only twenty five years, Tagore’s face. I want to live a hundred years, now I have the right. Twenty-five years later, Khoka will turn nineteen. The monastery house is small, the place is very large. Khoka, I will be with both. I dreamed that day. Face to face, I am old.

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