There are days that do more than mark time—they etch themselves into the soul of a person. “Days that shimmer like constellations in the sky of memory, guiding generations with their glow.” 19th May is one such day for the people of Barak Valley—a date that throbs with emotion, remembrance, and pride. It is not merely a date on the calendar; it is an eminent, breathing, legacy of resistance, written in the ink of sacrifice and love for one’s mother tongue.
On this day, time itself seems to pause in solemn reverence. From the first light of dawn to the last hush of dusk, Barak Valley awakens—not only in mourning but in celebration. Streets resound with songs of courage. Flags rise like verses of devotion. From classrooms to cultural halls, from silent marches to impassioned orations, every corner of the valley becomes a shrine of tribute.
This is not just a day of history—it is a day of identity. Woven with the threads of sacrifice, it is stitched forever into the collective soul of the region. Voices rise—not in fury, but in unwavering affirmation: language is not just a vessel of expression, it is the mirror of existence.
Each year, as 19th May returns, the wind whispers through Barak Valley—softly, yet powerfully—repeating the names of those who gave their all. This is ‘Bhasha Shahid Dibosh’, a day that bleeds with memory. In 1961, at the Silchar railway station, eleven lives were taken—students, workers, ordinary citizens—gunned down during a peaceful protest against the imposition of Assamese as the sole official language in a region rich in linguistic diversity.
Their protest had been one of peace, of plea—not defiance. But when the bullets rang out, the silence of injustice was shattered forever. Yet, their sacrifice was not in vain. The government was compelled to roll back its decision. Bengali was reinstated as an official language in Barak Valley, and more importantly, 19th May was immortalized as a date of dignity and defiance, a scar that heals.
‘Bhasha Shahid Dibosh’ is more than remembrance—it is a reminder. A call to preserve the rich mosaic of languages and the culture they carry. A call to honour the quiet power of mother tongue, and the voices that once cried out, not in hate, but in hope.
For in the end, what is language, if not the voice of belonging, the soul of memory, the breath of a people and sometimes, even words worth dying for.
(The article is opined on the author’s studies and personal experience and not in any way connected to any organisation or any political party.)
MCA,Professional Web Developer Guwahati, Assam.