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My first - and only - meeting with Nilofar Yasmeen took place six years ago at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in London. She was there as part of a team for the Bangladesh Festival organised by Arts Worldwide. But what made her stand out in that crowd was that serenity which always seemed to envelope her. She was gleaming, in her quiet way, and she stood watching the crowd in a way that verged on amazement. It was quite a milling crowd out there, and everyone seemed to be waiting for Tony Blair and Sheikh Hasina, the two prime ministers who would officially inaugurate the festival, to arrive and set things rolling. For my part, it was turning out to be rather hard gathering the courage, if I might put it that way, to approach Nilofar Yasmeen and say hello.
   My responsibility in life, at that particular point in time, appeared to represent this country as a diplomat, in however fleeting a manner, in the United Kingdom. That of course necessitated that I go and speak to her. But, then, she was a great artiste whose serene looks belied a strong determination not to have small talk come in the way of the arts. It was good conversation we had. Nilofar Yasmeen was a character out of fiction. Her sense of calm was infectious.
   On that evening, looking rather cheerful and a trifle chirpy, again in that unobtrusive way, Nilofar Yasmeen spoke in all the trappings of shyness. It was I who was in the end left surprised at how shy she seemed. Little girls are shy, in that very innocent way. It was the little girl I spotted in Yasmeen that day under foreign skies.
   She was happy that I had walked up to her, to tell her who I was and what I was doing there. More to the point, I informed her, in alacrity, that it was my huge privilege to be meeting her there - she the artiste. Her response was simple: since arriving in London, she had been hoping she would get in touch with me. To the thought that people were looking forward to her music at the festival, she wondered if the kind of music she had practised, as part of her heritage, all her life would appeal to the kind of crowd that would fill the spaces of London's Wembley auditorium a few days hence. She had a point. In an age when sublimity is in steep decline, good, true music turns captive in the hands of modernity.
   But that did little to stop Nilofar Yasmeen from doing what she meant to do in music. Her command of the classical genres, her absolute mastery of Nazrul Geeti are truths that became evident long before she succumbed to cancer in March 2003.
   Back in the early days (and that was before the rise of a free Bangladesh), she revealed the fundamentals of Nazrul's kirtans to her audience. That was a discovery, and one will always thank Yasmeen for the favour. She was only fifty-four when she died. That is as much as to suggest that she was young, and this country could indeed have had it in its sheer good fortune to be the recipient of a lot more magnanimity from Yasmeen.
   But the bigger truth for all of us today is that Nilofar Yasmeen the involved artiste has simply ceased to be. And there is that quiet feeling in all of us that perhaps we in Bangladesh were in the end unable to have her operate in an ambience that was all so easily, and so regularly, made available to her in West Bengal? The young and middle-aged have wept at her songs. She touched a lot of hearts in her passage through the corridors of rhyme and rhythm.
   That takes you back to the times when her song, Jibon Shey To Podyo Patae Shishir Bindu, came wafting along to us in all its contemplative charm. We who were young, who were pretty callow (at least many of us were) in the matter of judging music and its quality nevertheless refrained, for good reason, from being judgemental about Yasmeen. That shishir bindu song made us wonder. And the wonder has gone on. Now that Nilofar Yasmeen, in the manner of that shishir bindu, that dewdrop, has passed into the ages, we comprehend once more the reality of what makes great artistes live.
   In Nilofar Yasmeen we had a great artiste. Part of her greatness came through in the intensity of her dedication to the purity of music. And part came through her mien, for in all her achievements, in her steady scaling of the heights, she had little time for the hubristic in life. That could have had its roots in the family she sprang from. Her parents, humble and truly well-meaning, provided her and her siblings, all sisters, with all the reasons to go ahead and make music and let it seep into the hearts and minds of those who listened, who cared for aesthetics.
   Nilofar Yasmeen and her sisters have always been achievers, without that propensity or that temptation to keep themselves in the limelight. For them, it has never been a question of scaling the peaks of stardom. In the old-fashioned way, which is the true way, Yasmeen and her family have consistently believed in life being conducted on the heights of great achievement tempered with great humility.
   With Nilofar Yasmeen - and we go back to that question of music pure and virginal - it was intonation, inflections, indeed the equipoise that mattered in a rendition of music. Her kirtans, thumris, bhajans and kheyals have never for a moment strayed from the course set for them. The trajectory, for Nilofar Yasmeen, was all. It was never her belief that classical music or Nazrul Geeti could be experimented with beyond the parameters set for them.
   She was a rebel in the cause of defending artistic purity, which rebellion paid off handsomely for all of us who have seen, in recent times, the dissipation of music nearly everywhere around us. In modern songs - and Yasmeen lent her voice to lyrics crafted for movies - she was never flippant, never willing to lower the banner she had always held high. That quality is what led to that outpouring of love for her when the stars let it be known that Nilofar Yasmeen had joined their company.
   Nilofar Yasmeen's expression of intent, in the rapidly approaching twilight of her life, to go for Rabindra Sangeet was music to those who had watched her dominate the world of Bangla music over the years. Of course, there were few who believed she would be able to make it back to life and laughter, given the deadly nature of her affliction, and therefore the question of Tagore coming alive through Nilofar Yasmeen naturally needed to be treated as something of a purely tentative sort. And yet it was Yasmeen's intent, her profound belief that miracles could happen, that life would renew itself for her, that was most remarkable. The Sidhu Bhai Award was one more way of firming up her place in our musical scheme of things. But more than the award itself was the new dawning she thought she saw breaking for her.
   When life appeared to be drawing to a close around her, Nilofar Yasmeen reflected on music recreating itself in the very innocent and very young. She spotted the future of classical music, of the lyrics she had caused to live over and over, in children. That, by the way, is the best tribute an artiste can pay to her music.
   But Nilofar Yasmeen was painfully shy when it came time for others to shower her with honours. She was forever blushing, forever looking down at mention of her profundity. Shyness was writ large on her in that long ago dusk in London. And behind it lay the quiet story of a woman we never really knew. And have never truly known. The fault was, and has been, ours.

Nilofar Yasmeen was the icon of a true artiste. It is not possible for a humble person like me to evaluate her as an artiste. I used to call her chachi. About two and a half decades ago I had my first encounter, as a neighbour, with this extraordinary, soft-spoken, talented, and wonderful person. It was the beginning of a memorable friendship and bonding.
   Initially we started visiting one another’s house, listening to and teaching music.
   I don’t remember exactly when I became so close to her heart, but it was amazing how our friendship grew over the years. She was extremely affectionate towards me, and I had deep reverence
   for her.
   Sometimes she would be like a mother, sometimes a daughter, and at times a sister or as a friend. Even though I am much younger than her in terms of age, we could share with one another our joys and sorrows.
   Her beautiful smile use to captivate everybody who came in her presence; I was one of them. I have never seen such a light-hearted, cheerful person. She smiled through all her pains and anguishes and did not let anyone know about her sorrow.
   Another wonderful characteristic of hers was her sincerity to help others. No matter how busy she was she never hesitated to reach out to help and give support to those who needed it, be it the poor on the street, less fortunate relatives, mere acquaintances or a neighbour. Her compassion for others was truly exemplary.
   Nila chachi preferred a very simple lifestyle. She shunned lavishness of any kind; she liked simplicity whether it was clothing, food, or her living style. Even though she received the ‘National Film Award’ for singing among many other awards, she was always very modest about her achievements.
   Music played the most significant feature in her life and her devotion to it was immeasurable.
   There are only a few singers nowadays who practise music with such dedication as she did. She has taught me so much. She was pious in a very private way.
   She managed to say her prayers on time, whether she was in the middle of a recording session at the radio station, or at a television studio; while performaning in a concert or teaching her students she would always find a little time to pray.
   She fasted during Ramadan
   and recited from the Quran whenever possible.
   She had unquestionable faith in, and utmost respect for the Almighty. She never lost her trust and hope in Him, especially in times of her struggles and hardships.
   She used to say, ‘Almighty will help me fight my battle. He is there to rescue me,’ she used to tell me.
   When she went to Bumrungrad hospital in Bangkok for treatment of her fatal disease, she wanted me to accompany her.
   I tried my best to take care of her in every possible way and prayed for her to get well and come back home. But unfortunately, she never made it. During that particular period we bonded more than ever.
   It was amazing to see her will power with which she endured all the pains and sufferings. It is not possible to fight such conditions unless a person has unusual trust, confidence, patience, perseverance, and wisdom like my dearest Nila chachi had.
   I still haven’t come to terms with her loss and that she is not in this world anymore. I keep thinking that she is still at home and if I go to visit her now I will see her; she will welcome me warmly, and shower me with love in the way she always had.
   Nilofar Yasmeen was the icon of a true artiste. It is not possible for a humble person like me to evaluate her as an artiste. I used to call her chachi. About two and a half decades ago I had my first encounter, as a neighbour, with this extraordinary, soft-spoken, talented, and wonderful person. It was the beginning of a memorable friendship and bonding.
   Initially we started visiting one another’s house, listening to and teaching music.
   I don’t remember exactly when I became so close to her heart, but it was amazing how our friendship grew over the years. She was extremely affectionate towards me, and I had deep reverence
   for her.
   Sometimes she would be like a mother, sometimes a daughter, and at times a sister or as a friend. Even though I am much younger than her in terms of age, we could share with one another our joys and sorrows.
   Her beautiful smile use to captivate everybody who came in her presence; I was one of them. I have never seen such a light-hearted, cheerful person. She smiled through all her pains and anguishes and did not let anyone know about her sorrow.
   Another wonderful characteristic of hers was her sincerity to help others. No matter how busy she was she never hesitated to reach out to help and give support to those who needed it, be it the poor on the street, less fortunate relatives, mere acquaintances or a neighbour. Her compassion for others was truly exemplary.
   Nila chachi preferred a very simple lifestyle. She shunned lavishness of any kind; she liked simplicity whether it was clothing, food, or her living style. Even though she received the ‘National Film Award’ for singing among many other awards, she was always very modest about her achievements.
   Music played the most significant feature in her life and her devotion to it was immeasurable.
   There are only a few singers nowadays who practise music with such dedication as she did. She has taught me so much. She was pious in a very private way.
   She managed to say her prayers on time, whether she was in the middle of a recording session at the radio station, or at a television studio; while performaning in a concert or teaching her students she would always find a little time to pray.
   She fasted during Ramadan
   and recited from the Quran whenever possible.
   She had unquestionable faith in, and utmost respect for the Almighty. She never lost her trust and hope in Him, especially in times of her struggles and hardships.
   She used to say, ‘Almighty will help me fight my battle. He is there to rescue me,’ she used to tell me.
   When she went to Bumrungrad hospital in Bangkok for treatment of her fatal disease, she wanted me to accompany her.
   I tried my best to take care of her in every possible way and prayed for her to get well and come back home. But unfortunately, she never made it. During that particular period we bonded more than ever.
   It was amazing to see her will power with which she endured all the pains and sufferings. It is not possible to fight such conditions unless a person has unusual trust, confidence, patience, perseverance, and wisdom like my dearest Nila chachi had.
   I still haven’t come to terms with her loss and that she is not in this world anymore. I keep thinking that she is still at home and if I go to visit her now I will see her; she will welcome me warmly, and shower me with love in the way she always had.
   Translated by NS Nisha