Quietly disappearing behind the beauty of the Chittagong Hill Tracts in southeastern Bangladesh is an ancient community — that of the Lushai. Today, they are not only changing their culture but are standing on the verge of an existential crisis. They are being uprooted and compelled to integrate into the larger populace, quite literally for the sake of survival.

This bullet wound was made painfully clear to me by a retired police officer Khipyapara, Rangamati, Lawma Lushai. Reflecting on the ground reality, he said, "We are now at the brink of existential crisis". 

On Verge of Cultural Extinction

Lushai families or Mizo tribes were originally concentrated in the Rangamati regions only, a few of which survive today near Sajek with sixty to seventy households. But the issue that actually scares me most is, says Lushai: "My daughter doesn’t know about our culture today. She doesn’t speak a word of Mizo. I feel dread in my heart wondering how long and how far our culture can continue to exist in such a critically endangered state.”

The most prominent piece of evidence of this extinction is their cultural festivities. The Lushai are an agrarian, vibrant people who as a social unit are closely related to nature. The jhumias used to live a life revolving around festivals like Chapchar Kut (the spring festival), Pawl Kut (harvest festival) and Mim Kut (paying homage to the departed souls after clearing of jhum fields). They also rejoiced in those events with indigenous dances and songs written in their native language. These traditional festivals, as we read about today, are virtually dead. Native cultural practices are no longer seen whilst they celebrate religious events such as Christmas during a week—the area comes alive with beautiful churches that are overrun with light adorned, and the locals share joy in prayers. They’ve gained the liberty to worship as they please, but lost the space in which to express their ethnic spirit.

Ergo, at the heart of this cultural crisis is the tragic decline of the Lushai(Mizo) language. Language is not only a vehicle of communication; it embodies the history and worldview of a people. But, in the current scenario, it is quickly fading away from the Indian border area as this language has no economic value. The younger generation has to get used to Bengali as a functional mother tongue in order to manage the modern economy and survive in the larger society. As a result, they are growing up as strangers to the language of their ancestors.

Even statistics bear witness to this reality. According to the latest (2024) survey by the International Mother Language Institute, 45 languages have been identified as existing now in Bangladesh out of which there are 11 indigenous languages including Lushai (Mizo)—that have become critically endangered. Based on UNESCO data, a handful of languages which have made it to the endangered list in Bangladesh are in such a forlorn state that only 5-12 older folks from respective communities can still converse in them.

State initiatives are praiseworthy, but they have merely provided band-aids for this endemic crisis. The ICT Division took on a project in 2017 to create a digital resource repository that preserves the languages of the country, including those of indigenous people. From field surveys, 12,517 minutes of spoken audio from 202 individuals covering 44 languages was preserved in a digital archive. Digitization of languages is certainly a great step towards historical preservation, however, no language can live on just by being stored in the digital archives; it has to be spoken, a living force that must flow out through the mouths of young minds.

Needed Institutional Measures

The government's ambition of teaching in the mother tongues has also not been realised. Though the government made efforts in 2012 to produce primary-level textbooks in five indigenous languages and started distributing them in 2017, that initiative has been largely stymied. The books were printed, but never developed the expertise to teach it. For Lushai and other disadvantaged kids, the classroom continues to be an alienating space where children’s mother tongue has no place.

No one is able to save a community with some digital voice records or some untouched textbooks. Laloma Lushai emphasises on an extremely clear and hopeful persona: “The government or the local councils need to do something about it that ensures the language, culture, and traditions of Lushai, not just that of the Lushai but all small communities does not vanish. We must give the children of today the strong voices of tomorrow.” 

It is not just the words that are lost when a language dies — a unique view of the world is also lost forever. So, what urgently needs are long-term and effective institutional measures to protect these marginalised languages and cultures.

(The author is an independent researcher and a student of Folklore and Social Development Studies at the University of Rajshahi. Views expressed are personal. He may be contacted at shihab.fsds@gmail.com/https://www.linkedin.com/in/md-shihab-uddin-5aa855385?utm_source=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=member_android)