My last conversation with AB

As I was about to enter AB Kitchen, I was worried how the man would receive me after four long years of barely any contact. In 2014, I was a naïve teenager, who felt lucky to be included in a musical project with the great Ayub Bachchu – fascinated every time that my name would come out of his mouth.

On June 28, 2018, I was a young reporter who was there to pick up on what the maestro was doing. I entered through the door, only to find his arms extended with child-like glee. "I guess you're big-time now, eh journalist?" he jested, as I tried to look for a hole in the ground to sink in. He was holding his brand-new Rustey-Cooley guitar on one hand, and a plate of ripe-looking mango pieces on the other. "Isn't it beautiful?" As I nodded my head, he added, "I got them from Rajshahi! They're only 75 taka per kilo!"

He would not let me start the interview unless I ate an entire mango by myself, which I did. The interview in itself was a great 40 minutes of him opening up about his music, but it was what he said afterwards that stuck with me. "In the interview, you asked me about how I evaluate the younger musicians in the country. The truth is, I am disappointed when I see people taking for granted the talent and opportunities that they have, and then throwing it away," he said with a wry smile. Having taken a fair share of interviews, I knew that this was not something that the artiste was just saying – this is how he felt. In addition, I knew that he felt that about me as well.

Photo: Star

I was the youngest and admittedly least talented member in Acoustica Live – a musical group put together by Ayub Bachchu which included promising musicians like Xefer, Amid and Wahida – all of whom are doing well in the media industry at the moment. At our peak, AB was so hopeful, that he promised to give one of us one of his guitars if we kept up the good work. However, in the end, he felt betrayed because we had not worked hard enough to make the project work, like we should have.

Over the years, I learned that one thing that makes an artiste truly great is the willingness to communicate with someone much lower on the spectrum than they are, and Ayub Bachchu was the one person who treated everyone with respect and adoration. He was, however, Obhimani, as he would sometimes remember small things that he would consider disrespect, and be hurt by it.

It was then that I decided to apologise to the man chomping down on the Rajshahi mangoes, and I told him that I would never leave music. In return, he hugged me, and I felt a giant weight lifted off my shoulders. "Just tell me that you will be honest in whatever you do, because honesty is everything," he smiled.

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‘AB’ through the eyes of Niaz Ahmed Aungshu

In truth, I am one of the thousands of young people that Ayub Bachchu inspired to pick up music. However, my privilege lies not in one of the greatest Bangladeshi musicians teaching me about music, but one of the best human beings teaching me a thing or two about life.