The quiet ache of celebrating Noboborsho when home is oceans away

"Esho hey Boishakh, esho esho"

The familiar line plays everywhere as the day begins.

Noboborsho — also known as Pohela Boishakh or the Bengali New Year — is joyfully embraced across Bangladesh. Although it's a national holiday, it feels more like a vibrant celebration of new beginnings. 

The day bursts with colour and energy. People dress in red and white, intricate alpona patterns brighten the streets, and music drifts through the air from every direction.

The day begins with Mongol Shobhajatra, this year renamed as "Anondo Shobhajatra" — a stunning procession of colours, masks, and music. Crowds of people walk together under the April sun, carrying giant hand-painted figures of birds, tigers, and elephants, each rich with cultural meaning. It's loud, it's bold, and it's unapologetically Bengali.

Shops launch special Boishakhi sales, restaurants serve set menus filled with traditional favourites, and even those who usually shy away from the heat, step out to join the vibrant chaos. It's one of those rare days when almost everyone's smiling — even as they wipe away the sweat under the sweltering sun.

But for many living abroad, the day quietly slips by. There are no processions, no music in the air — just another ordinary day filled with meetings, chores, and the usual routine.

Creating a sense of home, even if it's just only for one evening

For so many Bangladeshi students abroad often means tight schedules, classes to attend, part-time jobs to manage, and little time (or energy) for elaborate celebrations. But yet, the emotional pull of Noboborsho is hard to ignore because it reminds you of everything you're missing out on.

"You're trying to be an adult, to be independent, but then days like these come and you just want your mother's cooking," said Arif, who's studying in the UK. "I tried to make fried hilsha and panta bhaat last year, but someone it just didn't taste right. But I ate it anyway, with green chillies and raw onion. It was the closest I could get," he continued with a sigh

In many cities, small student communities try to come together for the day. They plan potluck dinners with whatever ingredients they can find, hang up red and white decorations, or even host cultural evenings with music and poetry.

Although the food is far from perfect, it's finding comfort in the little things; speaking in Bangla, sharing a meal, and laughing together over the imperfections. It's not about getting everything right, but about being with people who understand, creating a piece of home in a foreign place. As Arif puts it, "It's about creating a sense of home, even if it's just only for one evening."

A quiet plate of rice and a phone call home

For many working bachelors living abroad, Noboborsho often passes like any other day, just a little heavier on the nostalgia.

"I didn't do anything grand," said Rafi, who works in Toronto. "I finished work, picked up some mishti from a local Indian shop, and video-called my family during dinner. My wife and my mother had made all the traditional dishes and kept saying 'If only you were here.' That part hurt the most."

Most bachelors try to cook something simple, daal, rice, mashed potatoes, fried hilsha by watching a YouTube tutorial even if they aren't confident in the kitchen. Others try to find Bangladeshi or South Asian restaurants that serve something close to home.

"I found a place that had ilish," said Shuvo, working and living in New York city for the past 5 years. "Was it overpriced? Yes. Did I buy it anyway? Also yes." he laughs.

Passing the tradition to the next generation

For families living abroad, especially those raising young children, Noboborsho is more than just a celebration. It's an opportunity to pass down culture, stories, and what it truly means to be a Bangladeshi.

"We want our kids to know what this day means," said Nusrat, a mother of two in Germany. "So we cook traditional meals, wear red and white, play Tagore songs, and even draw alpona in the hallway with chalk. It may be a small gesture, but it matters."

Across different countries, Bangladeshi families come together through local community groups and cultural associations. Many of these groups organise Boishakhi melas filled with music, dance performances, poetry, stalls selling home-cooked food, and even mini exhibitions of crafts and books. These events bring warmth and familiarity, especially for children growing up far from their roots.

Nusrat shares that these celebrations help her feel a little closer to home. It's not exactly like Dhaka, she admits, but being around people who understand the meaning of the day makes all the difference. Her children may not fully understand the cultural roots yet, but they enjoy dressing up and eating sweets, and for her, that's a meaningful place to start.

For many immigrants, holding on to these celebrations is a quiet act of preserving identity and a way to keep that connection alive. Even from miles away, culture lives on, not in grand gestures, but in these small, tender acts.

Shubho Noboborsho to everyone finding their own way to celebrate, wherever they are.