If you happen to be in London’s Brick Lane this April 14, get ready because you’re about to step into a world where colours dance, music electrifies, and the aroma of sizzling street food wraps around you like a warm cosy embrace. The Boishakhi Mela, Europe’s largest Bengali festival, is back, and this year, it’s pulling out all the stops.
The rhythm of dhak drums echoes through Tower Hamlets during Boishakhi MelaiStock
Tower Hamlets will be buzzing with energy, as thousands gather to welcome the Bengali New Year known as Pohela Boishakh in true, unfiltered, larger-than-life style. Picture a sea of red and white saris, the deep, echoing beats of dhak drums, and a city block transformed into a cultural carnival straight out of Dhaka or Kolkata. It’s truly a homecoming, or maybe a statement, and a party rolled into one.
Larger-than-life puppets and folk performers lighting up LondoniStock
A stage set on fire
This year, the star power is through the roof. Picture this: the Grand Parade, a riot of colour and sound, winds its way through Brick Lane, led by drummers, dancers, and larger-than-life figures. Yes, we will get into that soon! The air is thick with the aroma of biryani, pithas, and jalebees, as local chefs serve up authentic Bengali delicacies. On multiple stages, artists like Kanak Chapa and Sabbir Zaman will entertain audiences with their timeless melodies, while young performers present the whole evolution of Bengali culture. You can expect everything from soulful melodies that make you sway to beats that demand you get on your feet.
A sea of red and white saris – a visual feast at the heart of the festivaliStock
But it’s not just the stars who will steal the show. The Grand Parade is a spectacle all on its own. Larger-than-life puppets of Bengal’s majestic tiger and the elegant Bangla Queen will glide through the streets, leading a whirlwind of drummers, dancers, and folk performers. It’s an absolute riot of colour and culture and energy, a colourful reminder that Bengali culture is as vibrant and beautiful as ever.
Brick Lane’s ultimate feast
Forget fancy restaurants because trust me, this is where real Bengali food takes centre stage. The air will be thick with the heady spices of biryani, the crunch of fuchka breaking apart in your mouth, and the sweet, sticky indulgence of jalebees dripping with syrup. Whether you’re grabbing a plate of piping-hot pithas or sipping on a refreshing glass of borhani, one thing is assured - every bite is going to be a celebration.
Indulging in the irresistible flavours of authentic Bengali street foodiStock
For one day, London will taste like Bengal, and food lovers, you can be in absolute paradise. If you leave without an overflowing stomach and a food coma creeping in, you’re doing it wrong.
The streets of Brick Lane come alive with the vibrant colours of Pohela BoishakhiStock
From Banglatown to the world
The most exciting part? For the first time ever, Boishakhi Mela 2025 is going global. This year, the entire event will be streamed live, making sure no one, whether in Dhaka, Dubai, or Dallas, misses out on the magic. If you can’t be there in person, you can still soak up the music, the performances, and the street festival vibes from anywhere in the world.
A Grand Parade full of energy, culture, and celebrationiStock
More than convenience, it’s about bringing the Bengali spirit to every corner of the globe. This is a festival that refuses to be confined, that almost breaks borders and invites everyone to the party.
More than a celebration, it’s a legacy
While the music, food, and performances make headlines, Boishakhi Mela is about something much bigger. It’s about keeping Bengali culture alive and thriving in the heart of Britain. It’s about the next generation of British Bengalis finding a piece of themselves in the drumbeats, the poetry, and the swirling sarees.
A celebration of Bengali heritage in the heart of LondoniStock
Through art exhibitions, storytelling sessions, and workshops, the Mela isn’t just throwing a party, it’s also about passing down a legacy, like proof that cultures can adapt, evolve, and flourish, and make home far from home.
Don’t just watch—Be part of it
But listen, this isn’t the kind of festival you just attend; it’s one you lose yourself in. Whether you’re dancing in the streets of Banglatown, stuffing your face with street food, or watching the performances from a screen halfway across the world, you’re going to be part of something bigger.
The crowd sways to the timeless melodies and beats iStock
So, mark your calendar, join the celebration, feel the rhythm and just live the culture because, let me tell you, it’s unmissable.
See you there.
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A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5