Unfinished, on purpose
How Aurthohin Turned “Unfinished” Into a Lasting Idea
Bdbusinessdaily.com – For many Bangladeshi rock listeners, Aurthohin’s Aushomapto albums became records to revisit rather than simply complete. Their title carries an unusual declaration: Aushomapto means unfinished. Instead of presenting a final statement, the name leaves room for continuation, uncertainty and the feeling that the music is still in motion.
The concept was deliberate from the beginning. Bassbaba Sumon, Ibrahim Ahmed Kamal, Raef Al Hasan Rafa and Shishir Ahmed look back on the project with humour, but also with a clear sense that incompleteness became central to its identity. When the notion of romance in the band’s story comes up, Sumon dismisses it with a smile.
“Romanticism wasn't there, for sure. Bro-manticism, maybe.”
Rafa immediately embraces the joke, but sees a deeper meaning in it as well. To him, the name has never stopped being relevant because the project itself cannot truly be closed off.
“Aushomapto will remain unfinished. That's how I feel. It will never be complete.”
Why the first album was called Aushomapto 1
The numbering was not added as an afterthought. Before the album existed, Aurthohin had performed a song titled “Aushomapto” at a Rock Links concert. Sumon says that after that performance he had already chosen the name for the band’s next major release—and he had already decided it would be labelled Aushomapto 1.
The obvious question followed: why call a first album “1” unless another was guaranteed? Sumon’s answer was straightforward. He expected a second chapter to arrive, which made the numeral essential from day one.
“I said the name would be Aushomapto 1. Everyone asked, ‘Why 1?’ Because Aushomapto 2 will come — that's why it's 1.”
His inspiration came from outside Bangladesh, specifically Helloween’s Keeper of the Seven Keys releases. The German metal band’s work was issued as Part I and Part II after producers rejected the idea of putting it out as one double album. Sumon recalls being frustrated by that decision and used it as motivation for Aurthohin’s own plan: two separate albums, shaped independently and intended to stand strongly on their own.
The project also contained its own playful contradiction. Aushomapto 1 includes “Fetus-er Kanna,” a title that translates to “the cry of a fetus.” Under its title, the song was identified in brackets as Aushomapto 3. That left listeners asking where the second instalment had gone when they could see references to both the first and third.
“So people ask me, ‘Sumon bhai, where is Aushomapto 2? We got 1, and we got 3.’ And I tell them — that's exactly why the album is called Aushomapto. It never finished.”
Nine days for one album, 96 hours for another
The speed of the recording process is among the most striking parts of the albums’ history. Kamal estimates that Aushomapto 1 moved from its first clean guitar recording to a completed, submitted album in only nine days. The follow-up was produced even faster: Aushomapto 2 was recorded over 96 hours.
During those four days, the group tracked 13 songs. Three were ultimately discarded, leaving 10 for release. Recording, mixing and mastering were all completed within that compressed schedule. Such a timetable is especially surprising given the layered, tightly connected guitar work listeners associate with the albums.
Kamal describes the result as something beyond individual ability.
“This is efficiency, not just talent.”
He participated while dealing with serious illness and arrived after much of the earlier work had already been completed, adding his own parts over the recordings. Sumon recalls the circumstances with characteristic dry humour.
“Kamal bhai actually came in an ambulance and left.”
Kamal responds with a joke of his own, saying he was brought in and taken away “on a saucer,” before adding that he believes he still fulfilled his role.
Building songs from a mass of riffs
Sumon’s writing and arranging approach helped make the rapid pace possible. Rather than beginning with a fully mapped song, he would establish a tempo and key—such as G minor—and ask the musicians to play riffs continuously. At that stage there was no fixed verse, chorus or conventional layout, only a large collection of possible parts.
He would later work through that material alone, selecting pieces and assigning them to particular sections. A riff might become part of a chorus, while another could be placed elsewhere in the arrangement. When the music returned to the players, they could recognise their own contributions even if they did not remember constructing the final form themselves.
This process also explains how the guitar parts on Aushomapto 1 developed so quickly. Shishir and Kamal’s solos often appear to answer one another, creating the impression of a carefully extended exchange. Sumon characterises his contribution more modestly: he says he organised the riffs rather than claiming ownership of every musical idea.
“I just organised the riffs. I didn't do anything else.”
Fuad Al Muqtadir’s place in the album’s story
The musicians are particularly keen to highlight a contributor whose role can be overlooked in retellings of the record. Aushomapto 1 was the only Aurthohin album to feature an external co-producer: Fuad Al Muqtadir.
Fuad, who was raised in the United States and returned to Bangladesh to make music with Bangladeshi artists, produced and mixed the album. He also wrote its keyboard parts. In a project where the band members worked from three separate workstations across three rooms, his involvement gave the record another important creative centre.
“He had a massive contribution behind managing the four of us. Massive.”
That arrangement meant the musicians were not always fully aware of what everyone else was creating at a given moment. Yet the separate parts eventually became a unified album, helping explain both the urgency and the unusual character of the finished work.
Its enduring appeal may lie partly in that tension. Aushomapto is remembered as a major musical statement, but its name refuses the language of conclusion. It leaves listeners with an idea that the story was intentionally left open—an album legacy defined not by a final full stop, but by the possibility of another line still to come.
Related Reading
Frequently Asked Questions
What is Unfinished on purpose?Unfinished on purpose is the main topic of this guide. The article explains the context, practical details, and next steps readers should understand.
Why does Unfinished on purpose matter?Unfinished on purpose matters because readers are looking for a useful answer, not just a short summary. Good content should match search intent and help them decide what to do next.