Sainik Silpi' to 'Kalaguru' : Rabha's Journey
HIMANGSHU RANJAN BHUYAN
Bishnu Prasad Rabha, a name well rooted in the social memory of Assam, is not only a giant in the world of culture but also a torchbearer of revolutionary thoughts. His own transition from a committed revolutionary, lovingly referred to as the Sainik Silpi or 'Soldier Artist', to the revered Kalaguru, or 'Master of Arts', is proof of his multifaceted contribution to the social, political, and cultural awakening of Assam. In a time dominated by colonial rule, social injustice, and the birth of regional awareness, Rabha was a one-of-a-kind voice who effortlessly combined activism and art and made both instruments of liberation.
Born on January 31, 1909, in Dacca (present-day Dhaka, Bangladesh), Rabha spent his childhood amidst displacement, immersion in various cultures, and increasing awareness about the socio-political imbalances around him. Born to a Bodo family, he spent his childhood with a Rabha family, an experience which later served as the basis of his intensified identification with marginalized and indigenous communities. His schooling started in Tezpur and concluded in Calcutta, where he pursued the sciences at Ripon College. Academic success was, though, never his sole aim. Rabha's exposure to the revolutionary ferment of British India made an indelible mark on him. He soon joined the Civil Disobedience Movement, where he was arrested and harassed. It was through such experiences that his revolutionary temperament was formed.
It was during these years that Rabha became the Sainik Silpi. To him, the pen, the brush, the voice, and the dance were weapons no less powerful than the sword. Whereas his contemporaries confined their rebellion to the political stage, Rabha transformed the stage itself into a battleground. And with each of the songs he sang, each of the plays he performed, and each of the speeches he delivered, there burned the fire of rebellion. For him, art did not have to be a mirror reflecting society but a hammer that would shape it. He believed that the fight against colonialism should be succeeded by the same fight against feudalism, casteism, and cultural alienation.
In 1945, Rabha became a member of the Revolutionary Communist Party of India (RCPI), reinforcing his faith in class struggle and socio-economic justice all the more. It was no ritualistic move. Rabha distributed more than 2,500 bighas of family property to native peasants, publicly declaring, "haal jar, maati taar"—he who works the land shall own the land. This redistribution of land was an extremely politicized move in Assam during that period. It was not just the abolition of feudal privilege but the expression of Rabha's faith in the people.
While this was happening, Rabha went on to produce and perform art that was radical in intent and revolutionary in content. His songs, called Rabha Sangeet today, are a poet's dream of equalitarianism, nationalism, and humanity. Tracks such as "Bilote Halise," "Suror Deulore," and "Rongmon Macholoi Gol" are ageless in the musical heritage of Assam. These were not only verses but sounds of defiance. Rabha's compositions were a blend of folk and classical ragas, bringing the masses to the aristocracy, the traditional to the modern.
His dance shows were no less powerful. Rabha had learned the Tandava dance style, historically associated with divine anger and cosmic rhythm, and infused it with revolutionary imagery. His iconoclastic performance in Varanasi, complete with images of Dasavatar, Krishna Leela, and Tandava, stunned even Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan to the extent that he was purportedly given the honorific Kalaguru. This was a turning point in Rabha's life—henceforth from the soldier artist to the cultural guru of a people keen to express and identify themselves.
Rabha's creative talent knew no bounds in music and dance. He was a gifted painter, playwright, essayist, novelist, and filmmaker. His writing such as Axomiya Kristir Hamuh Abhakh, Sonpahi, Bane' Kebang, and Mising Koneng described the culture of Assam's indigenous population with historical sensitivity. He was the voice of the long suppressed by history and marginalized by mainstream accounts. His writings inclined to challenge urban Assamese intellectuals to accept and appreciate the ethnic and linguistic diversity of the state.
In cinema too, Rabha's intervention was as powerful. He composed music and featured in the film Era Bator Sur (1956), directed by his friend Dr. Bhupen Hazarika. The film showed the lives of tea garden laborers with exploitation, hope, and human dignity highlighted. Earlier, in 1948, he had also directed Siraj, a film that tried to show communal harmony and opposition at a time when India was shocked by the violence induced by partition. Rabha's entry into film was not for fame and glamour but for democratizing culture and spreading progressive ideas through a mass medium.
The milestone in Rabha's life was his presidency of the Assam branch of Indian People's Theatre Association (IPTA). Rabha assumed the presidency of IPTA in Assam upon the death of Rupkonwar Jyotiprasad Agarwala and vested it with revolutionary spirit. Art, in Rabha's opinion, cannot remain non-political against injustice. Theatre, in the opinion of Rabha, must wake up, agitate, and protest. IPTA, during his leadership, produced passionate plays and musicals that reflected directly upon the socio-political reality of rural Assam.
Rabha's politics, his militant politics, and his refusal to be a member of the ruling elite exposed him to being vulnerable to state repression, censorship, and watchfulness. He spent several years living underground, in hiding from the state, surviving usually through the charity of rural poor and sympathizers. In spite of all this, Rabha never lost heart. His steadfast belief in the redemptive power of art and his ardent conviction in his people sustained him. He never sold his ideals, at whatever cost, even when it meant being locked out of official stages or denied institutional awards.
But in Assam's popular imagination, Rabha was still a giant. His songs are still sung during village festivals, his plays are still acted out at cultural festivals, and his paintings and writings are still taught at schools and universities. June 20th, celebrated as Bishnu Rabha Divas, is not only a day to remember but a cultural awakening. It is a reminder that art can, and must, speak truth to power.
The transformation of Bishnu Prasad Rabha from Sainik Silpi to Kalaguru is representative of a grander philosophical journey—from rebellion to awakening, from conflict to synthesis. The Sainik Silpi fought foreign domination and domestic desecration; the Kalaguru spanned the divide between Assam's past and its aspirations. Both of them dwell in the very same soul—Rabha's soul—a world where imagination met audacity, where rhythm merged with movement, and where dance defeated despots.
Looking at his life today, in a world more fractured by identities, commercialized art, and sanitized histories, Rabha's legacy offers us another kind of vision. He reminds us that true art is not accolade but awakening. It must make the complacent uneasy and the agitated comfortable. It must be risky, it must break barriers, and above all, it must reflect the people's rhythm.
Bishnu Prasad Rabha lived for but sixty years, yet the extent of his influence transcends years. His dream of an equitable, just, and abundantly cultured Assam remains a dream yet to be fulfilled. It is our turn now—to carry on the work of the Sainik Silpi and Kalaguru where he left off—writers, artists, teachers, activists, and ordinary citizens. We need to continue challenging injustice through our work, giving voice to the voiceless, and dreaming of a world where revolution and art are synonymous. In honouring Rabha, we cannot simply enjoy his songs or live his life to fleeting public fame. We need to incorporate his spirit, reflect his passion, and make sure the Assam soil never misses the footprints of the man who danced its agony, sang its hope, and fought for its heart.
