Dowel Biswas

Nadeem A Salam still remembers the first time he stood on stage with The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus—not as a manager, but as a performer. He had already spent years behind the scenes—moving gear, fixing schedules, dealing with travel delays, keeping tours running—but standing there felt different.

As dawn broke over Ramna Batamul yesterday, Chhayanaut’s chorus of 200 performers lifted “Jago alok‑logone” into the morning air, opening the celebration of Pahela Baishakh 1433.

Folklorists have long recognised multiple categories within Bengali folk literature—songs, proverbs, riddles, and rhymes. Rhymes are not homogeneous; they appear in distinct functional types: nursery rhymes, social or satirical rhymes, occupational rhymes, ritual rhymes, and those associated with games. That diversity signals not triviality, but embeddedness. In their rhythmic repetition are folded patterns of labour, hierarchy, crisis and adaptation.

The press conference closed with “Baishakh Mashe Aiso Bondhu,” returning to the language of invitation.

Bulletins told listeners what was happening; songs suggested why it mattered, sometimes signalling the freedom fighters on safer roads, and information that would be crucial to win the Liberation War.

The exhibition, titled The Handloom Tradition of Bangladesh, opened on March 8 at Bengal Shilpalay in Dhanmondi. Organised by the Bangladesh Handloom Board with support from the Bengal Foundation, the nine-day programme combines a curated exhibition with a small fair celebrating the country’s weaving heritage.

Dana’s arrival in Bangladesh carried the strange familiarity of a travelling salesperson, except that nothing she sells intends to cure anything at all.

Mukhopadhyay lived through the fractures of partition, the uncertainties of migration, and the routines of middle-class survival. Politics was inherited consciousness, not a slogan. Songwriting became a ledger of conscience: a daily reckoning with history, place, and identity. His voice quivered at the edges, not from lack of technique, but from the weight of feeling itself. Being Bengali was not taught; it had to be experienced.