Sushmita Sultana – Between Time and Memory

Torpignattara. Rome, 17 December 2022

 

After a very young student of hers finished singing a song, Sushmita Sultana gave a short speech.

It happened during her Victory Day celebration program. Victory Day – in Bengali: বিজয় দিবস Bijôy Dibôsh – which is the national holiday in Bangladesh, celebrated on December 16, to commemorate the defeat of the Pakistan Armed Forces in the Pakistani War liberation of Bangladesh in 1971, which lasted nine months, and its independence.

 

Like every year the school of Sushmita, the Sanchari Sangeetayan (the word sanchari in Sanskrit has different shades of meaning ranging from wandering, meandering, transient, moving, and so on; in the context of Bharatanatyam, sanchari is a grammatical element which is employed interpreting texts or narratives through the use of facial expressions, hand gestures and body language, called abhinaya), composed of Bangladeshi girls and boys of different ages, first gave rise to the themed drawing competition and then, after singing the National Anthem, the pupils performed traditional dances, songs, and poems, under the watchful eye of the teacher, in front of their families.

 

Sushmita means “beautiful smile”, in fact, her face is a mysterious combination of sweetness and severity.

Her husband Iftekharul, they met when they were studying at the Academy of Arts in Santiniketan, India, where their love was born and their marriage followed. In 2008 she joined her husband in Rome.

By attending the Asinitas school, in Torpignattara, where she studied Italian, she got to become part of it, first as a singer in the choir and then by opening her own school on May 31, 2014.

The school is her homage to Bengali culture, to Tagore but also the way of transmitting the love for one's own culture to the new generations born in Rome.

For a few months, in addition to singing, dance, and harmonium lessons, she has also started Bangla language lessons, to complete the children's education.

 

In the few words after that song, Sushmita recalled our first meeting during a Bangladeshi New Year's Eve in May 2009: my first New Year's Eve and also the symbolic beginning of my journey as a photographer.

She was moved remembering those times and looking at the little singer girl.

When I met her she still danced, elegant and with a classic style.

You said we've aged – so they translated for me.

Oh yes, dear Sushmita.

It's inevitable, thirteen years is not a short time.

I also, like you, have combined our artistic passion with teaching over time.

And it hurts the heart to feel like we no longer have the strength of time ago, that same energy, that body.

As in the sunset, however, the sun, going down, takes on more intense colors, of fire.

And then there is the teaching (insegnare in Italian language). I don't know if you know it, but the root of this word comes from the late Latin insignare, 'engrave, imprint signs', composed of in- and signare. Leave a mark inside.

I think this was the true origin of your emotion.

Not so much the passing of time, since that is the natural path of every living being, but seeing that sign in the little pupil.

Knowing that even when we will no longer be here, however, we will remain, living in the souls of those who have been “in-segnato, taught” by us.

I leave you, and all of you, with a poem from Gitanjali by our beloved Tagore.

 

“XCVI”

When I go from hence

let this be my parting word,

that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

I have tasted of the hidden honey

of this lotus that expands

on the ocean of light,

and thus am I blessed -

let this be my parting word.

In this playhouse of infinite forms

I have had my play

and here have I caught sight

of him that is formless.

My whole body and my limbs

have thrilled with his touch

who is beyond touch;

and if the end comes here,

let it come -

let this be my parting word.

(Rabindranath Tagore)

Sushmita Sultana. Rome, 23 May 2009

Torpignattara. Rome, 17 December 2022

Italian version