POET Hafiz Rashid Khan was the first poet to focus on the indigenous peoples’ lives and culture in Bangladesh. He published a complete volume of poetry dedicated to indigenous culture, titled Adibashi Kabya, 1997 (Poetry on Indigenous Peoples). In this work, he vividly portrays the lives of indigenous people, expressing his genuine love, loyalty, and profound compassion for them. The preface of the book begins with a heartfelt confession:
In the late 1970s, I fell in love with an indigenous girl while visiting the Rajpunyah of the Bomang Circle. She was strikingly beautiful and spoke with extraordinary sweetness. Even today, I am haunted by the feeling of divine love I experienced with her. Enchanted by her surreal presence, I wandered through indigenous villages numerous times. I received rebukes from some people and rewards from others. I also witnessed that many indigenous individuals, despite their poverty and hardships, expressed incredible beauty of heart and generosity. I love to admit that in a previous life, I must have been an indigenous person myself. Our home was on a hilltop, and I carried water in a gourd shell from distant springs. Our livelihood came from jum cultivation, and a meal of fermented fish paste and vegetables brought me immense joy. During festivals, we feasted on wild duck and black deer. I remember it all vividly — I truly believe I was a Jatiswar, a reincarnated soul that recalls its previous birth.
Let us, for now, accept this confession as a ‘poetic truth’. Indeed, poets are the Jatiswar, the reincarnated souls of humankind; they embody the dreams and experiences accumulated in human consciousness throughout the ages. Hafiz Rashid Khan absorbed the hopes and traditions embedded in the consciousness of indigenous peoples, making him undoubtedly a Jatiswar. Through his work, Adibashi Kabya, he presented a wondrous tapestry woven with the threads of indigenous beauty. As a poet, he was repeatedly struck by Cupid’s arrow while living in the hills, which is why love became a central theme in his poetry. In his quest for personal love, he discovered an entire domain and culture, striving to rebuild poetry around this dual essence of culture.
One of his poems, written in aksharbritta meter, beautifully captures the simplicity, modesty, tenderness, sweetness, and gentle personality of a young Bawm lady named Siyampui Bawm Loncheyo. To the poet, her broken Bengali pronunciation sounded sweet and endearing. They would meet almost every evening, and whenever she greeted him, she would bow humbly, pressing her hands together in the lotus mudra, and softly say, ‘Namaskar, Sir.’
One moonlit night, bathed in silver radiance, the poet vividly remembered her. In his imagination, her shyness transformed into the timid and gentle gait of rabbits grazing on fresh green grass. Out of this imagery, a poem emerged:
Woozy by the tender grass,
the rabbits startle —
their wide eyes cloaked in white, brushed with scattered hues…
O radiant Siyampui Bawm Loncheyo,
amidst the teasing wildflowers,
your lover sinks, submerged in love,
lifting his mane in awed devotion…
You —
with the serene smile of a wandering priestess,
lotus-like hands folded in sacred mudra,
meeting the gaze of distant gods,
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adorn the world with divine love,
offering a single,
tender Namaskar…
— Provoked by Wildflowers, Adibashi Kabya, 1997, Hafiz Rashid Khan
In writing about Siyampui Bawm Loncheyo, the poet captures not just an individual but the essence of the Bawm indigenous community. Her traits of courtesy, modesty, and tenderness symbolise a collective identity. The Bawm young lady emerges as a multi-layered symbol of love, nature’s gentleness, and spirituality. The poem transcends personal love, intertwining themes of love, culture, and ethnic identity.
Among the Bawm themselves, fierce quarrels may sometimes break out in their own language, but outsiders can hardly tell — because even in anger, they never shout nor hurl obscenities. Rather, it seems as though they are speaking softly, sharing stories. Their speech, pronunciation, and conduct carry no vulgarity, no abuse, and no aggression. This cultural civility is rare in today’s world.
Recently, it seems as though the sky has fallen on this gentle and innocent community. Over the past few years, many members of the Bawm community, including women and children, have been imprisoned, and some have even died due to lack of medical treatment. On August 21, 2025, it marked five hundred days since the mass arrests of ordinary Bawm individuals under the pretext of suppressing the Kuki-Chin National Front. During this prolonged period, over a hundred innocent Bawm citizens, including women and children, remain imprisoned without trial.
This repressive policy is not only a gross violation of human rights but also a blatant affront to the Constitution of Bangladesh and the principles of justice. Already, three Bawm men have died in custody due to negligence and denial of medical care. More than a hundred others remain imprisoned, including those who are severely ill, spending their days in uncertainty. In light of this injustice, many people at home and abroad have expressed solidarity with the Bawm community. On August 21, human rights activists collectively took to social media to protest and demand the release of these innocent detainees.
Seven Bawm women from Bethhel Para in Ruma and Shahjahan Para in Thanchi under Bandarban district spent 500 days in prison. Among them were Shiwli Bawm, a thalassaemia patient; Almon Bawm, a college student; Jingruneng Bawm, an orphan; Lalsingpar Bawm, whose brother-in-law is missing and whose father is in prison; Jingremngak Bawm, whose husband is missing; Lalnunzir Bawm, who is married; and Vhaninkim Bawm, whose younger brother is imprisoned. They faced serious charges, including bank robbery and looting weapons, but everyone in their villages understood that these accusations had no basis in their true lives. Finally, on August 21, 2025, after 500 long days, they were released from Chattogram Central Jail. However, their joy at being freed was mixed with sorrow, as many of their loved ones remained in prison or were still missing. Their stories follow a common pattern: accusation, arrest, uncertainty, and a long wait for freedom. Even after their release, a sense of emptiness lingered, as hundreds of Bawm people still sat behind bars while their families anxiously awaited their return.
On August 23, 2025, the human rights group Bawm Lives Matter wrote on their Facebook page:
After the Kuki-Chin National Front bank robbery incident last April, a mass arrest operation led by the military took place in Bandarban. Nearly 200 Bawm citizens were arbitrarily detained without any evidence against them. Many of these detainees are physically ill and mentally traumatised. Investigations into their cases have shown no progress, and their bail applications have been repeatedly rejected.
On May 26, four Bawm women were granted bail by the High Court; however, on June 3, the Appellate Division overturned this decision. Recently, nine women and four children were released on bail, but 14 women remain imprisoned, including Lalnun Kim Bawm, who suffered a stroke, and Larry Bawm, who is being treated for ulcers. Among the men, 32 have been granted bail, while many others cannot even apply for bail due to a lack of financial resources.
On 24 August 2025, the same page reported:
After 503 days of detention without trial, Larry Bawm, who has been suffering from ulcers, along with four other women from the Bawm family, was finally granted bail by the High Court today, 24 August 2025. Throughout this lengthy period, law enforcement failed to provide any evidence against them, and investigations did not progress. Despite this, their bail applications were repeatedly rejected. Now, unless the state appeals to the Appellate Division, their release is assured. We demand the immediate enforcement of the High Court’s order and the release of Larry Bawm and all other detainees.
One striking aspect of the situation is that, despite the absence of concrete evidence or charges, bail granted by the High Court is consistently blocked by the strong objections of the state. Meanwhile, since the July Uprising, several known criminals and militants have been released from prison, while innocent Bawm women, men, and students continue to languish behind bars. This highlights the extreme insensitivity and irresponsibility of those in power and the policymakers toward marginalised communities.
Unless one is born indigenous, it is difficult to fully understand the depth of their deprivation. Poet Hafiz Rashid Khan, recognised as the first bard of indigenous life, became a Jatiswar in the company of indigenous peoples. He was able to absorb and reflect the dreams and experiences embedded in their lives. If only the policymakers of the state could also become Jatiswar, perhaps they would begin to comprehend the pain and struggles faced by indigenous individuals and empathise with them more compassionately.
May the ruthless policymakers of the state one day transform into Jatiswar! This remains our unwavering hope.
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Milinda Marma is an indigenous writer and activist.
