As winter came for its brief stay, Dhaka’s trees stood in a state of barrenness, their skeletal branches etched against a grey winter sky, whispering mournful elegies through the dry rustle of fallen leaves.
Now, as if awakened by a celestial conductor’s baton, nature has unfurled its verdant banners—fresh green foliage dancing in the breeze, the air perfumed with the intoxicating scent of mango blossoms, and the streets alive with a palpable sense of renewal.
As Pohela Falgun and Valentine’s Day converge on 14 February, Dhaka seemingly has transformed into a vibrant city of cultural exuberance and romantic reverie
Pohela Falgun is the first day of spring in the Bengali calendar, an occasion that Bangladesh marks with an exuberance that is almost sacred.
And yet again, the advent of spring is accompanied by Valentine’s Day, the global ode to love.
Convergence of Pohela Falgun and Valentine’s Day on the same date is a recent phenomenon.
Traditionally, these occasions were celebrated on consecutive days, but a 2019 reform of the Bengali calendar sought to align key national observances with the Gregorian calendar, thus entwining the two celebrations in an eternal embrace.
Yet, the origins of Basanta Utsab stretch far back into history.
The Mughal Emperor Akbar, ever the patron of grand festivities, introduced the Fasli calendar in 1585, embedding spring festivals into the cultural fabric of Bengal.
In 1907, Shamindranath Tagore—son of Rabindranath Tagore—ushered in the first Rituranga Utsav at Santiniketan, a tradition that would later inspire Bangladesh’s own celebration of Pohela Falgun.
Amid the country’s anti-autocracy movement in the 1990s, students of Dhaka University’s Faculty of Fine Arts (Charukola) brought Basanta Utsab to the streets, festooning their campus with paper flowers, vibrant butterflies, and artistic processions.
By 1995—Bengali year 1401—the festival had become an officially recognised cultural event in Dhaka.
The serendipitous synchronisation of these two festivals has turned Dhaka into a grand amphitheatre where love and nature waltz together in harmonious revelry.
Dhaka, ever the city of contradictions, is experiencing a rare moment of poetic consonance.
The streets are ablaze with colour—young women draped in the sunshine hues of Bashonti sarees, men in traditional panjabis adorned with floral motifs, and lovers weaving through the crowds, hands entwined, as if spring itself were an incantation of romance.
At Bakultala of Charukola, the air reverberates with the cadence of Tagore’s "Aji Basanta Jagroto Dare", as dancers sway in synchrony, mirroring the swaying mustard fields in the countryside.
The many parks in the city blend the liveliness of youth with the revival of the leaves, open stages are set for an effusion of music, poetry, and artistic expression.
Meanwhile, the Amar Ekushey Book Fair—that annual pilgrimage of bibliophiles—witnesses an even greater influx of visitors.
At the National Theatre Hall, the cultural group Sadhana prepares to stage the dance drama Dilnawaz—the tragic love story of a prince and a courtesan.
Music spills onto the streets, mingling with the scent of Rajanigandha flowers, cheap street-side coffee, and the musk of nostalgia at TSC.
In lovers' eyes, the golden glow of spring reflects the warmth of newfound affection.
Three friends in matching yellow sarees flit between bookstalls like butterflies, their arms laden with newly acquired tomes, their voices bubbling with the joy of literature and camaraderie.
Lovers stroll through the fair, pausing to buy poetry collections—perhaps Faiz Ahmad Faiz for the melancholic, Pablo Neruda for the hopeless romantic, or Mirza Ghalib for those whose love is tinged with longing.
And in the hearts of the people, Falgun remains a promise—of renewal, of rebellion, and of love that, like spring itself, returns every year, undeterred.
