The economics of Pahela Baishakh: Culture as livelihood

With Pahela Baishakh, a new Bangla year — 1433 — has set in. The new year will be welcomed with greetings, songs, joy, and delicious food. On this occasion, Baishakhi fairs will be held in various parts of the country. Musical soirees will take place under the banyan tree at Ramna, and traditional Bangali foods will delight our taste buds.

The air will grow vibrant with the laughter and chatter of men and women, young and old — and, of course, children. Pahela Baishakh and the Baishakhi fairs, in my mind, reflect five dimensions of our lives: festival, tradition, joyfulness, universality, and economy.

The festive aspect of Pahela Baishakh is well known. The Baishakhi fairs in villages and towns — held in large open fields or small roadside spaces; the clay dolls, horses, elephants, bride-and-groom figurines, and Ferris wheels; Baul songs in village fairs and cultural performances at Ramna; men and women, boys and girls dressed in colourful attire; and lively, excited children — all of these are part of the celebration. On the first day of the year, Bengalis rejoice in colour and variety.

How can we forget the traditional aspect of Pahela Baishakh? At the fairs, potters sit with clay toys and figurines; confectioners display sweets — laddus, batasha, jilapi, and kadma; artisans decorate stalls with bamboo trays, baskets, and woven goods. Everywhere, the traditions, culture, and heritage of Bengal are interwoven.

The simple belief, "If we eat well together on the first day, the whole year will go well", is itself a bearer of tradition, as are the opening of new account books (hal khata) and invitations marked with ritual items. Bangali life and culture have given rise to many such enduring traditions. In villages, early-morning rituals — such as diving across a pond, plucking green mangoes, or decorating courtyards with alpana designs — are also part of this heritage.

The spirit of Pahela Baishakh is universal. It brings people together regardless of caste, religion, or ideology. The sentiment echoes within us, "Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, and Muslims of Bengal — we are all Bangalis."

In recent times, a large urban economy has also grown around Pahela Baishakh. This includes urban fairs, traditional clothing, and cultural events. Colourful sharis and panjabis have become a hallmark of the celebration, leading to a surge in shopping — both in markets and online — before the festival.

This spirit inspires unity and freedom — freedom of thought and diversity — connecting us all. The Mangal Shobhajatra (auspicious procession), associated with Pahela Baishakh, symbolises the peace and well-being of humanity. Its essence lies not in ritual but in its underlying message of human welfare. Participating in it reaffirms our commitment to humanity, harmony, and cultural diversity.

Pahela Baishakh belongs uniquely to Bengalis. Whether at home or abroad, Bengalis celebrate it with deep personal feeling and connection, as it reflects their identity and sense of self. Pahela Baishakh thus becomes a symbol of both the personal and national identity of Bengalis.

Around the festival, tradition, joy, and universality of Pahela Baishakh, a comprehensive economy has also developed. The Baishakhi fair has a significant economic dimension. It creates employment for potters, weavers, bamboo craftsmen, and rural artisans. Folk performers, singers, and actors find new opportunities. Investment increases, and income is generated across sectors.

Rural women benefit economically by selling handmade mats and baskets, which they have worked on throughout the year, as well as by preparing traditional foods. Weavers bring fabrics, saris, dresses, and other clothing to market. Buyers, with new agricultural earnings from recent harvests prior to Baishakh, come to the fairs and spend on various items, adding new vitality to the rural economy.

Income also rises for suppliers of raw materials and tools needed by weavers, artisans, carpenters, and blacksmiths. Sweet-makers see increased business, as do dairy producers. Temporary workers are employed in production, transportation, and sales. The transport sector—rickshaws, carts, vans, and buses — also earns from moving goods to markets.

In villages, performances such as folk theatre (jatra), musical shows, and circuses are organised, creating jobs for artists and related workers. Food stalls, craft shops, and various vendors gather around these events. This leads to temporary construction and provisioning, generating further employment and income.

In recent times, a large urban economy has also grown around Pahela Baishakh. This includes urban fairs, traditional clothing, and cultural events. Colourful sharis and panjabis have become a hallmark of the celebration, leading to a surge in shopping — both in markets and online — before the festival.

Thus, a significant number of Pahela Baishakh–related online businesses have developed. This has created employment and income for home-based, self-employed women. People attend various cultural programmes dressed in festive attire, and a range of economic activities takes place around these events.

Food is another major aspect of the urban Baishakhi economy. Traditional dishes such as panta bhat (water-soaked rice), mashed items (bhorta), and hilsa fish have become integral. These are prepared at home and also supplied commercially, forming a structured food economy. The Mangal Shobhajatra also has its own economic dimension, involving the creation of masks, props, and organisational logistics.

One cannot speak of the economy of Pahela Baishakh without mentioning hal khata (the traditional opening of new account books for the new year). Memories of the economics of hal khata remain vivid from my childhood.

When I was young, my father would take me to the bookshop of Makhan Kaka and Hardhan Jetha, to Johur Chacha's clothing store, "Chittagong Bastralaya," and to Ashwini Da's wood workshop in the city of Barishal.

The well-dressed shop owners would seat us with care, kindness, and respect, and serve delicious food. I would gaze at the new red-coloured account books covered in red shalu (a special type of red cotton fabric). As far as I remember, my father would hand the shop owners a silver coin as a symbolic gesture.

I was treated with such affection during these visits. The elders would call out to their employees to bring warm, syrupy sweets, serving them to me with great care and urging me to eat more.

In between, they would ask my father for blessings so that the upcoming year would go well for their business. After eating, water would be served in brass vessels, my father would take a betel leaf, and the shop owners would escort us to the door.

But what always drew my attention was that hal khata. The red ledger, tied with white thread, would lie beside the cash box. Nearby, in a brass pot filled with water, five mango leaves would stand upright. Beside it were a pen and an inkpot for writing accounts. I would often run my hand over that red ledger. Gazing at it would put me into a kind of trance.

Unfortunately, today, rising fundamentalism threatens our long-standing Bangali culture and our secular harmony. Our traditional values — centred on universal humanity — are fading.

Efforts to divide us are growing, and the spirit of our Liberation War, and independence itself seem to be slipping away. To resist this, the spirit of Pahela Baishakh is more important than ever. It embodies celebration, tradition, universality — and an economy built around it too.

Selim Jahan is an economist and former director, Human Development Report Office, UNDP