The disease of individualism in collective celebrations

Harsha Mohan Sarma 

(harshasarma183@gmail.com)

“Without culture and the relative freedom it implies, society, even when perfect, is but a jungle. This is why any authentic creation is a gift to the future.” — Albert Camus

With the dawn of the year 2025, discussions around the world have begun to focus on the beginning of the “Beta Generation.” Experts say that although the mindset of this generation will last until 2040, the worldview shaped during this period will largely persist until the year 2100. During this time, the already weakening idea of preserving collective culture and tradition will tilt further toward individualism. In other words, the chain of communal efforts to protect our cultural heritage will loosen even more.

The disease of individualism in the struggle to preserve culture actually began during the days of the Millennial or Generation Y group (1981–1996). Globalization acted like a giant force, spreading this ailment rapidly across the world. Later, in the days of Generation Z, or the iGen group (1997–2010), individualism received nourishment and took on a hybrid form—glittering on the outside but hollow on the inside. Everyone began chanting slogans of cultural preservation, but the number of people actually willing to work in the field decreased. Only a handful continued to hold on. From 2010 to 2024, the “Alpha Generation” rose, swept up by the tides of information technology. With smartphones entering every hand, interest in foreign cultures grew stronger than in one’s own. People began liking others’ cultures more than their own, blending both to create a mixed “khichiri culture.” Folk customs, traditional practices, and cultural expressions shifted to television screens and mobile phones. People watched and enjoyed them, but fewer were willing to protect culture in real life. A seed of consumerism sprouted in every mind. Festivals became synonymous with eating, drinking, and merrymaking. While everyone participated in the feast, hardly anyone cared about cultural values. “Why should I bother?” “I don’t have time”—these attitudes grew stronger. Self-centeredness, selfishness, greed, busyness, and the pressure of competition created such a struggle for survival that people gradually distanced themselves from practicing cultural traditions.

A changing environment is another factor preventing us from preserving our traditional culture. Due to the decline in fish in natural water bodies—rivers, ponds, beels, and wetlands—people have lost interest in the communal activity of fishing during Uruka (the eve of Bhogali Bihu). Assam has around 3513 beels and wetlands, many of which have lost their original characteristics due to natural and human-induced causes. Still, around 1392 of them remain filled with water across nearly one lakh hectares. But because of the use of chemical fertilizers in fields and population growth, fish are no longer found in abundance. Except for a couple of beels, most native fish species have become nearly extinct. As a result, people now prefer buying fish from the market rather than fishing together. If today’s “Beta Generation” could be encouraged to experience the joy of fishing with nets, traps, and bamboo “polo,” our rich traditions would shine once again. To protect the culture of Bhogali Bihu, we must revive our water bodies and safeguard them from greedy traders. Artificial fish farming at home, though convenient, is also an indicator of individualism.

Earlier, every village had open spaces. As time passed, those open spaces turned into houses. Traditional village games gradually disappeared. There is no room left for dhup khel, hau khel, or even hide-and-seek; we lack haystacks, community houses, and large trees. Community playgrounds have turned into fitness gyms. In the past, both rich and poor maintained health through free communal games. Today, only the affluent go to gyms, and the wealthier set up home gyms. Thus, the idea of community play has changed. People now focus on individual sports. Individualism has gripped the world of sports too. Traditional play culture has almost vanished.

Today, when you observe local areas, you will find two households constructing one Meji, four households constructing another Bhelaghar, and other households creating yet another set. This happens because people have grown more self-centered. Three or four decades ago, an entire village or locality would come together to build one Bhelaghar and Meji. Without anyone calling, everyone contributed. The warmth of the Meji’s fire was felt collectively. But today’s “bonfire generation” cannot imagine standing together and enjoying a single Meiji. Many have different food habits; many cannot wake early; many prefer lighting their own Meji whenever they wish. Many no longer feel the desire to take warmth from the Bhogali fire.

The “dheki” was an inseparable part of Assamese society. Its rhythmic sound echoed in every house before Bhogali. But with technological advancement, the sound of the dheki disappeared. With the invention of rice mills and grinders, laziness found a place in human minds. Physical labor declined. Nuclear families began pounding small quantities of rice flour through electric grinders in their homes. Thus ended the communal tradition of pounding rice together and making “pithas” in large groups. Yet, in the few homes where a dheki still survives, the crowd that gathers to pound rice reflects the urge in our hearts to preserve tradition. Especially during Magh Bihu, rice flour made from the dheki tastes the best. Machine-made flour cannot compare. The aroma and flavor of “sandoh” pounded in the dheki or ural cannot be found in machine-pounded versions. The coconut filling for bora pitha, shredded with a traditional scraper, tastes far better than that made in machines. But today, few people know how to cook traditional pithas, and fewer know how to scrape coconut. Ready-made laru-pitha from shops is becoming popular, depriving people of the joy of collective cultural participation.

With economic liberalization, every object connected to our traditions—culture, customs, and rituals—entered the marketplace. Laru, pitha, sandoh, and even Meji and Bhelaghar became commercial commodities. Now everything can be sold and bought. But can human happiness be measured in terms of monetary value? Can the joy of an entire village eating together be reduced to a commodity? Eating meat and drinking in groups cannot be called true collective celebration. Collective celebration nourishes the mind more than the body. The nourishment of the mind brings happiness and prosperity not only to the individual but to society as a whole. The essence of collective celebration embedded in culture strengthens society. The disease of individualism cannot spread its poison where collective spirit thrives.

No matter whether it is the Alpha, Beta, or Gamma generation—if society becomes infected with individualism, decay is inevitable. “We cannot live only for ourselves. A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men.”