New-age Bihu geet: Are contemporary lyrics pushing boundaries of decency?

Bihu is not just a festival—it’s the pulse of Assam’s cultural soul. Rooted in dance, music, and deep ties to the land, it celebrates togetherness and seasonal renewal.

During Bohag Bihu, graceful women in traditional Sador-Mekhela, dancing in open fields to the beats of the dhol, pepa, toka form an enduring image of Assamese heritage. Equally iconic are the Bihu geet—songs infused with rhythm, flirtation, romance, and the boundless energy of spring.

Assam’s most loved and widely celebrated festival, Bihu captures the region’s cultural richness.

However, in recent years, modern Bihu songs have taken a notable turn—drifting away from playful flirtation towards vulgarity, ambiguity, and, at times, meaningless content. This shift has sparked growing concerns about cultural preservation and artistic responsibility.

Certain contemporary Bihu songs have stirred controversy for lyrics deemed vulgar or culturally insensitive. Tracks like Bati Bhorai Sira Khabi and the line Kumol Kumol tumar buku khoni from Lakhimiai, sung by popular artiste Zubeen Garg, have drawn criticism for their overt focus on women’s physical attributes, seen by many as disrespectful. The trend has triggered conversations around misogyny in Assamese pop culture.

Similarly, Disco Bhonti (2016), sung by Kusum Kailash, faced backlash for its cringe-inducing lyrics. The song seemingly encouraged women to wear traditional attire instead of Western clothing—but the manner of portrayal, paired with tone-deaf lyrics, invited criticism from several artistes.

“In the past, Bihu songs were known as Bihu geet or Bihu naam. Over time, they’ve evolved into Bihu xuriya geet, which simply means songs based on Bihu tunes,” explained folklorist Anil Saikia.

At its core, Bihu geet is an expression of life deeply rooted in nature, tradition, and collective memory. These weren’t just performances—they were lived experiences passed down through generations, across villages and time.

But as modern lifestyles seep into every corner of culture, Bihu too has changed. Today’s interpretations have brought in new sounds, aesthetics, and lyrics—sometimes refreshingly contemporary, but often contentious.

Modernisation has brought in new sounds, aesthetics, and lyrics. (Photo: 'X' AIR News Guwahati)

“The change in lyrics is inevitable—it reflects the way love and life are expressed in different eras,” said folk musician Pity Borah. “That said, it’s important to understand the line between flirtation and vulgarity. Lyricists should be mindful not to cross that line.”

Echoing this sentiment, Saikia added, “The transformation of Bihu songs hasn’t happened overnight. It’s part of a gradual cultural evolution. Even in 1881, when trains first came to Assam, Bihu lyrics began to reflect this modernity. One such line, Upia upia rail gadi solile, Diboru’t godhuli hol, describes the train journey from Sadiya to Dibrugarh at twilight. This shows that Bihu has always adapted to its times—and it will continue to do so.”

Many older Bihu songs, composed decades ago, still linger in public memory and are regularly performed at events across the state.

“There are around 10 classifications of Bihu Naam, but songs that objectify women or carry lyrics devoid of cultural depth do not qualify,” Saikia emphasised. “Those who make such songs may not fully understand what a true Bihu song represents.”

Adding to the cultural complexity is the internet’s role in amplifying music that thrives on irony. Songs are now often consumed not for their lyrical quality or melodic integrity, but for their shock value—turning awkward lyrics and over-the-top videos into viral sensations.

Striking the right chord

As Bihu strides into the modern era, Assam stands at a cultural crossroads. Modernisation has opened new doors—ushering in greater visibility, fresh sounds, and wider audiences. Yet, this evolution comes with a pressing question - how do we embrace change without losing the soul of Bihu?

“Change is inevitable—there’s no stopping it,” said folk musician Pity Borah. “But what matters is how an artistee channels emotion through the right lyrics and music.” He recalls a time when Bihu performances featured only traditional instruments like the dhol, pepa, gogona, and taal. Today, electronic beats and synthesised arrangements are becoming more common.

“These shifts will keep happening… with each generation bringing its own flavour,” Borah added.

Yet even as Bihu evolves, Borah insists that artistes must stay rooted in intention. “At the end of the day, we’re making music for the people. Some listeners love the raw, earthy sound of classic Bihu, while others enjoy a contemporary twist. It’s about understanding your audience—but also knowing where to draw the line. Artistes must have the discernment to choose what should be sung, and what shouldn’t,” he said.

Through several workshops and social media, today’s artistes play a vital role in keeping Bihu geet alive for the next generation. (Photo: 'X')

Indeed, artistes are the custodians of Bihu’s soul. Bihu geet—those lyrical, spirited songs at the heart of the festival—are far more than festive tunes. They mirror Assamese life, tradition, and shared emotion. And at the core of every geet is the artiste - blending heritage with imagination, turning sound into sentiment.

Through performances, workshops, and social media, today’s artistes also play a vital role in keeping Bihu geet alive for the next generation. Their voice shapes the narrative, ensuring the festival remains relevant in a changing world.

But with influence comes responsibility. “Ending the trend of double-meaning lyrics requires more than discussion—it demands action. Concerned authorities must take a stand and publicly discourage such content if we are to preserve the integrity of Bihu,” Borah concluded.

For Bihu to remain not just heard but truly felt, it will take a collective effort. Artistes, audiences, educators, and cultural bodies must come together—to protect what is sacred, while making space for what is new.