How is it for indigenous people to celebrate Boishakhi in the urban chaos, miles away from their home

Every year in Bangladesh, April feels like a rollercoaster of unpredictable weather. One moment, the scorching sun drains all the energy, and the next, a sudden Kalboishakhi storm sweeps across the sky, bringing heavy rain in its wake.

Amid shifting weather, the nation gears up for its most celebrated festival, Pohela Boishakh. But as people prepare for red-and-white outfits and plan out Shobhajatra routes, they rarely spare a thought for the festivities echoing in the hills.

Sure, the names of their festivities are familiar, memorised from Bangladesh and Global Studies textbooks, and the traditions of the Chittagong Hill Tracts learned just well enough to pass exams.

But in the rush for good grades, that knowledge often stays behind on the answer script, never really sinking in. There's rarely a deeper effort to internalise and understand why Boishabi, along with the other prominent events, holds such deep meaning for the indigenous communities.

While the mainstream urban population often refers to this time simply as 'Boishabi,' the region's cultural diversity is far richer.

'Boishabi' is actually a blended acronym representing the festivals of three major groups: Boisuk for the Tripura, Sangkrai for the Marma, and Biju for the Chakma. However, the celebrations extend far beyond this triad, encompassing Changkran for the Mro, Bisu for the Tangchangya, Sangkrain for the Rakhine, and Sangkran for the Chak community, because each group gives this season a distinct meaning.

For Monika Marma, a university student in Dhaka, the absence of Sangkrai leaves a deep spiritual and sensory void. "For Marma people, Sangkrai is not just a cultural event; instead, it's our religious event," she said.

"In the Hill Tracts, it feels totally festive. I miss going to the Vihar to do the puja and other religious activities. There, they cook different types of vegetables, sweet dishes, and pithas, which I miss a lot here. They don't cook that traditional cuisine here, so I miss the food and enjoyment. I also miss plucking flowers and decorating the house nicely," she expressed further.

Monika also points out a frustrating hypocrisy in the city's culture, noting how Dhaka eagerly embraces foreign events while ignoring the heritage of its own soil.

"People in the urban area are adapting to many festivities and enjoying many Western festivities. But instead, if they could bring our very own Bangladeshi cultural events, it would be great for the indigenous people as well, such as Pani Khela and stalls of different indigenous traditional foods," Monika's take on celebration.

"During festivals, as we don't get enough vacation, we can't go to our native land. I see my family members enjoying themselves, but I have to study for my next exam or something, so it makes me really sad. Generally, I love going to my home. I feel really welcomed, but during festivals, the environment becomes more welcoming, so I miss that a lot," she added.

While Monika grapples with the loss of her community's spiritual and sensory traditions, Liton Tripura, a university student, highlights the deeply systemic and logistical frustrations his community faces during Boisuk.

"Boishabi is a prominent festival for the indigenous. These three days of rituals are deeply rooted in our identity. For example, if we draw a comparison here, for the Hindu and the Muslim community, whenever these festivities come, we can see a tendency for people to go back to their roots and celebrate with their loved ones. But we cannot go to the Hill Tracts."

Liton emphasises that the short holidays provided by institutions make travelling home physically impossible.

"Even though the university system tends to give us a vacation of one or two days, it's not technically possible for people to go to the Hill Tracts and return home just within this short period. And for the working-class people, it's more hectic because they don't even get the holiday. The university doesn't want to understand the problems of the student body, or even if they understand it, they tend to ignore it."

For true inclusivity, Liton urges a structural shift from the authorities. "If the University committee or the government of our country takes steps to ensure the benefit of these indigenous people so that they can celebrate the festivals with their loved ones, it would solve a great problem."

"As the three days of ritual and festival are very crucial for the Hill Tract people, if there were a three to four-day holiday could be arranged for these festivities, it would become more inclusive for our people," he added.

Ultimately, celebrating these festivals in Dhaka becomes less about joy and more about endurance.

Whether it is a Marma student missing the spiritual warmth of the Vihar or a Tripura student fighting for the basic institutional right to travel home, these youth are quietly carrying the weight of their heritage while waiting for the concrete jungle to finally make space for them.

The question may be whether these communities can adapt to the city, but whether the city is willing to expand its idea of celebration. When a nation takes pride in its cultural diversity, that pride cannot remain selective or seasonal. It has to show up in its calendars, its institutions, and in the everyday spaces people inhabit.

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