The spirit of Boishakh

I like the smell of beli phool. I like dressing up in white and red colours, and wearing matching bangles. The simplicity and taste of panta bhat and cooked shutki on a hot day is something that I also look forward to every year. With each morsel of the panta and shutki, I feel the insides of my mouth burning a little, but I don’t gulp it all down in haste. Instead, I taste the hot flavours of the shutki bhorta. The taste is unique, and I love it. I don’t eat panta bhat or dress up in red and white colours every day and, even if I did, it would just not be the same. Last Thursday was a special day and unlike every other day, it was the first day of the Bengali New Year, Pohela Boishakh. When I think of the month of Boishakh, I am reminded of the beautiful lyrics of the song “Esho, he Boishakh, Esho Esho” written by the famous Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore. If you grew up in Bangladesh, chances are you’ve heard the song countless times. There is something overpowering about celebrating this day in Dhaka. Watching crowds of people gather all around the city, especially in Ramna Park, to sing Rabindra Sangeet, makes one feel unconsciously peaceful, yet powerful. It’s almost meditative watching how unified everyone is during the early hours of the morning sitting under the Ramna Botomul, singing with so much devotion as they forget all obstacles and worries to come together in celebration of this day. As Bengalis, we have been celebrating the spirit of Pohela Boishakh in its present incarnation for decades. But the history goes back centuries. It began during Akbar’s reign, when he introduced a revised Bengali calendar as a means for tax collection. The Bengali calendar revolved around six seasons, and it made more sense for both the landlords and the farmer-tenants to depend on the seasonal cycle as a means of sorting out their taxes. Usually, the celebration and feast took place right after tax collection and the custom of Bengali New Year celebrations began ever since -- even though the landlords probably had more reason for celebration. As a child, I did not fully understand the significance of the day. Then it was just another holiday. But reminiscing about my childhood, I am reminded of fond memories with my family. My mother would wake me up around dawn on the first day of Boishakh, and we would head out to Ramna Park in our new dresses. We would gather at Ramna Botomul along with our friends and relatives, and sit amongst the crowds listening to the Chhayanaut artists perform. It feels like this day is celebrated on a much grander scale now -- the Facebook newsfeed or your SMS inbox would tell you what I mean. One cannot but help notice the series of Boishakhi-lunch deals in hotels and numerous functions taking place in different locations of the city. Even the markets and shops advertise the numerous red and white saris, dresses, and baby clothes made specifically for this day. Giving into this joyous hype, I thought of visiting Aarong to get something for my mother a few days back. I was surprised to discover the whole store packed to the brim. As I stood in the long winding queue, I waited for the man in front of me to pay for the things he had just bought. I couldn’t help notice the bright, multi-coloured dress that he had purchased, most likely for his four or five-year-old daughter, and the red and light green sari for his wife. I turned around to peek at the others in the queue. A girl was standing with her mother behind me gleefully holding her new clothes. I was pleasantly surprised to see a lot of men standing in line too holding saris for their loved ones. The scene instantly warmed my heart. I realised that the celebration was not only about wearing red and white colours and eating panta bhat, but it meant more than that. It made me think of the celebration as an occasion for giving. This day gives us a chance to express our love with a small token, such as a gift for our loved ones. I looked around the packed store and realised everyone there, no matter the circumstances, had braved through the horrendous Dhaka traffic only to find time to think about buying a gift for someone else. The joy of giving was all around. What better day to feel good about giving than on the first day of the Bengali New Year? From my own personal experiences, the joy that I feel every time I buy something for someone else is tremendous; I feel good when I am not thinking just about myself. As a teenager I had missed celebrating this day, and did not get to enjoy it for many years since I lived abroad then. After I got married and moved back to Bangladesh, I remember going back to the Dhaka University area on a rickshaw to see the celebrations as an adult. I went to see the Mongol Shobhajatra, which is a procession brought out by the students of Charukola, the Fine Arts Institute, to display beautifully crafted masks and mascots. Plastering the bamboo frames with colourful papers, the artists brought the mascots to life. The art students raised funds for the colourful procession by selling their art work. They work tirelessly for days and nights on end to prepare for the grand rally. The students of Charukola made it look effortless, but I was in awe of the crowd, the colourful masks, and all the effort that went into making it happen. When I witnessed the Mongol Shobhajatra for the first time as an adult, it made me nostalgic. My husband and I try to go to Charukola religiously on every Pohela Boishakh. We go to see all the artwork the night before, immerse ourselves in the world of art, and sometimes even buy some artwork. On Pohela Boishakh, we dress up and go to see the display of masks and join the Mongol Shobhajatra, braving the heat and crowd. The whole parade is immersed in bright colours. Every mascot has a meaning. This year the three that caught my attention were the white birds as symbols of peace, a mother and child symbolising the need for protection of women and children in our society, and the red bull signifying opposition to corruption and greed. Pohela Boishakh for me is a time for giving, counting my blessings, and looking forward to a brand new year. As much as I enjoy wearing a red and white sari, sticking strands of beli in my hair, I also look forward to spending quality time and having a meal with my loved ones. As I am reminded of my culture, I recall Rabindranath Tagore’s words:Come, come, come O Boishakh come upon us. With your ascetic breath, dust away that which is dying Be gone the refuses and remnants of the year Let go old memories, let go forgotten melodies Let teardrops vaporise and fade into the distant skies.