Every discovery carries a pure, unadulterated joy. A revelation takes root in the mind, and each time you return to it, awe washes over you afresh. How is it possible to write like this? Contemplating such artistry wraps the mind’s very neurons in lingering wonder. I am speaking of Hyena Express, the groundbreaking debut album by Shonar Bangla Circus. This entire album unfolds as a conceptual saga of human civilization. With every listen, as song flows into song, you discover a brand new canvas.
Hyena Express has, in truth, captured the vast pulse of eternity. The songs of this album will remain eternally relevant. This feat was made possible because everyone associated with this band is socially conscious; the injustices and hypocrisies of society touch them as deeply as they touch us. And they sought to disseminate this awareness through music. This consciousness rises through the impassioned vocals of Probor Ripon; it resonates through the six strings of guitarist Pandu’s guitar.
The tracks of Hyena Express are, on one hand, razor-sharp—searing the skin like the scorch of a midday sun. On the other hand, a rich tapestry of delicate metaphors lies veiled within the lyrics of every track. One such song is “The Song of Suicide.” It is the eighth track of the album. Within this six-minute composition is compressed the two-hundred-thousand-year history of human civilization. This song stands as living testament to how science can be grasped through the lens of art. I believe only poets are capable of this. And that poet and vocalist is Probor Ripon of Shonar Bangla Circus. Let us cast our eyes upon the lyrics:
Boulders roll down from the mountain peak to crash at your feet
As if someone stole the sun’s fiery heart and scattered it across your skin
The fire you sparked by grinding stone against stone—
In those very flames, you burn yourself alive.
Even the rain you clung to for survival,
Under the searing scorch, has evaporated into steam,
Vanishing into the heartless azure of the sky.
The discovery of fire through the friction of stones is likened to stealing the sun’s heart. Those thousands of years ago, humanity found fire nowhere else but the sun. Nor did they possess the power to kindle its celestial flames. But one day, humanity—the loneliest creature in the cosmos—learned to kindle flame. The embers humankind ignited by striking stone against stone have gone on burning everything in their path for millennia. Today, under the heat of that fire, the earth’s global temperature continues to climb uncontrollably. There is no halting it. Over the past two centuries, through the unprecedented advances of science and the reckless rampage of opportunistic corporate oligarchs, our planet has arrived at a state entirely unrecognizable from what it was just a century ago. In truth, modern technological intervention is so profound that reversing these alterations in the near future is virtually impossible. Compared to average global temperatures a century ago, today’s planet has already warmed by approximately 0.60°C. Predictive climate models indicate that by the close of the twenty-first century, global temperatures could surge by an additional 2.5°C to 5.5°C. Consequently, thermal expansion of oceans, rapid glacial retreat on high mountain peaks, and the melting of polar ice caps could trigger catastrophic shifts in sea levels—shifts far from benign for humanity and terrestrial life. Humankind has yet to truly comprehend global warming; we continue to toy carelessly with that ancient fire, having never exercised restraint over the flames. There is no meaningful roadmap to curb pollution. Even the handful who believe that all will quietly burn out, or that our rulers will suddenly heed the alarm, are sorely mistaken. For the men occupying the corridors of power possess no soul. The desperate pleas to save our earth never reach their hearts; consumed by their voracious lust for wealth, they burn themselves—and reduce our planet to ash alongside them.
Outer space is your hollow eye socket
You are the grave of the earth
That savage you murdered so you could become human—
By his curse, you are an ocean stripped of waves.
This passage is breathtaking. I repeat: only poets are capable of writing like this—capturing the vast expanse of evolutionary time in a mere couplet. According to scientists, in the struggle for survival and competition over sustenance between Neanderthals and Homo sapiens, the Neanderthals were driven to extinction by the hands of Homo sapiens. Though Neanderthals were physically robust, what transformed modern humans into such formidable leviathans was their cognitive agility. Through intellect alone, Homo sapiens bested Neanderthals in the primal struggle for sustenance. That was only the beginning. Tens of thousands of years drifted past, and Homo sapiens evolved further. They extinguished countless other species who posed no threat whatsoever, obliterated solely before humanity’s bottomless greed. Today, humanity finds itself staring into the abyss of its own making; the earth can no longer bear the crushing weight of human gluttony. Is this, perhaps, the lingering curse of the erased Neanderthals?
Aboard your starship you drift, gently unlocking the gates of outer space
On the other side: a dead eagle, scorched skies clutched in its talons
In its child’s eyes, eternity blazes with fire
In that eternity you lingered, repeatedly leaving yourself behind
Your heart is like a war-torn city
Grinding heart against heart, you burn away even the memory-lines of that city.
Without securing open skies for birds or boundless pastures for beasts, humanity scrambles to cross the thresholds of deep space. Having consumed the earth at its whim, now that terrestrial resources are near exhaustion, humankind spends billions to reach Mars—fantasizing that our survival can no longer be sustained on Earth. Yet that was never the pact. This earth nurtured human beings just as tenderly as it nurtured a tiny insect. But humanity never spared a thought for open skies or a pristine climate. It always sought to sprint ahead, leaving the earth discarded in its wake. Did mankind ever contemplate advancing hand-in-hand with Earth, the cosmic cradle of life, and all her children? Is man not also a child of this earth? Has all memory of a wondrous earth and a joyous biosphere faded from the human mind? Did Mother Earth deserve such callous neglect from her all-conquering child? The question lingers unanswered.
I have observed this fierce empathy for the earth and its downtrodden in Shonar Bangla Circus for a long time. In every television broadcast I have watched, they have spoken of these wounds. I remember an anchor once asking them when this pervasive sorrow would lift from their songs. Probor Ripon, the band’s frontman, quietly answered: “The day this earth is well, the day no oppressed soul remains—perhaps on that day.” Such unvarnished sincerity moved me deeply. The world needs voices like Shonar Bangla Circus; but alas, when do humans ever spare the time to think of the earth?
In closing, I must say that in our conformist, monotonous lives stripped of protest, Shonar Bangla Circus is nothing short of magic. A magic through whose touch we can feel a little more whole, sensing the untouchable grace of the world we yearn for. Like a melody striking a blind wall, it resonates:
In this song of mine,
No pathway to liberation remains open;
Yet perhaps beyond this song,
Somewhere lies your homeland.
You can find the entire album on their YouTube playlist.
