Me and Bangladesh

Me and Bangladesh

When I say “Bangladesh,” I can even call it my second home. Why? Because it’s where my parents live, where my childhood friends are, where I once had someone I loved, and where many of my relatives still reside. Among my memorable trips, the journeys along the Myanmar border and the nights at Cox’s Bazar beach are truly part of my life.
Out of all these memories, the thing I’d describe as “The Good, The Best and The Ugly” is the singing and dancing part of traditional Bangladeshi weddings. Their weddings are incredibly grand and full of events. Every ceremony has its own unique customs that never get boring. Among them, what I want to share is my younger brother’s bachelor night party. The dinner was served buffet-style.
Most guests sat on the floor, and in one corner, there was a Qawwali group. When I arrived around 8 p.m., some desserts were already laid out. Qawwali, as you may know, is Sufi devotional music—poetic songs praising the Prophet, accompanied by traditional instruments.
Around 9:30 p.m., the buffet dinner began. By then, the hall was full. Inside the dining area, you could hear relatives chatting, while outside, my brothers and I were smoking and talking, all with the sound of Qawwali in the background—lively and bustling.
By around 10:30 p.m., the Qawwali shifted to modern Bollywood film songs. The aunties started inviting us younger ones to come inside and join. Around 11:30 p.m., as the music played, the singers began repeating a relative’s name in the song. That person would then get up and dance, while everyone cheered them on. It was a way of calling everyone in the family to join. Truly, it was a heartwarming family moment.
At that point, my father came over and handed me a folded bundle of cash. “When it’s your turn to dance, throw this money near the singer,” he told me. That’s when I noticed that everyone who got up to dance would toss money as a gesture of appreciation. When the singers called out the names of our elder aunties, even their sons and daughters-in-law would join in the dancing. It was pure family joy. Some families even danced together in groups—it was truly delightful. That night, the band must have earned quite a bit of money.
After this segment, the Qawwali ended, Bollywood beats took over, and a DJ arrived. By around 2 a.m., some people were dancing, others were leaving, while my brothers and I were still coming up with new ideas to keep the fun going. It was genuinely enjoyable.
Another event is when the groom, his family, and relatives visit the bride’s house. What should we call this? The groom arrives with a decent entourage, many gifts, a full house of relatives, dinner, and musical entertainment—should we call it a procession, a party, or a celebration? That part isn’t so unusual. What’s unique is the poetic verses and lyrics they sing.
For example, if the groom’s father is a famous contractor, the song might teasingly go: “A contractor who builds towers with sand, no cement at all…” And for the women, they’d sing playful lines like: “Curvy hips, pouty lips, what a beauty!”—played with such lively beats that you can’t help but feel amused, maybe even pretend to get upset and threaten to leave.
But don’t worry. When the bride’s family visits the groom’s house later, the groom’s side does the same—singing poetic verses and playing lively tunes. It’s truly an unforgettable, love-filled, playful wedding tradition—a unique test of affection.
If you look at all this with a modern, positive mindset—as an Ice Breaker that melts the coldness between two families, removing pretense and bringing genuine joy—it becomes something truly meaningful and beautiful.

— Aung Myo Lwin (Agga)