Where hills weep, Santu Larma calls for unyielding freedom

A correspondent, Rangamati

“In the hills, we live with insecurity and an uncertain future,” proclaimed Jyotirindra Bodhipriya Larma—Santu Larma—a voice both unyielding and poignant.

Speaking to thousands at the golden jubilee of Monghar in Rangamati, the Chairman of the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) Regional Council and President of the Parbatya Chattagram Jana Sanghati Samiti (PCJSS) delivered a searing indictment of decades-long oppression, painting a portrait of lives suffocated under the weight of systemic injustice.

“Since the birth of Bangladesh, we have been governed by systems designed not to protect us but to oppress us,” Larma said, his words cutting through the celebratory air like thunderclouds.

“These systems shrink our lives, crush our future, and deny us the right to live freely and with dignity. Here, the very essence of life—freedom—is missing.”

Amidst the golden anniversary’s jubilance, Larma’s words struck a solemn chord.

He spoke not just of oppression but of a dream—a longing for the hills to return to their former glory.

“Our ancestors walked these hills with pride, amidst forests brimming with life, streams whispering songs of freedom, and skies unbroken by fear.”

“That life has been taken from us. But we remember. And we fight to bring it back”, he added.

With unwavering determination, Larma reminded all of the CHT Accord—a once-promising agreement now reduced to a symbol of unfulfilled commitments and unkept promises.

“The Accord was meant to heal our wounds, but its negligence deepens them. Without its full implementation, we are condemned to live stifled, suffocating lives—lives that are not lived, but endured.”

The Monghar field, with over 3,000 attendees, became both a stage for celebration and a platform for reckoning.

Presiding over the session was Gaurika Chakma, a former teacher at Monghar High School, joined by luminaries including Raja Devasish Roy, Chakma Circle chief; Raja Sachin Pru Choudhury of the Mong Circle; Rakhi Dewan, and Shraddhalankar Mahathero, president of the Monhgar management committee among others.

The day began at dawn with an exhibition in Rangapani village, a symbolic tribute to five decades of resilience.

The procession that followed was a river of colors and memories, winding its way to Monghar’s grounds, where the past met the present in a moment of unity.

The jubilee’s true spirit lay in the faces of its attendees—former students who returned not just to celebrate but to reconnect with their roots.

For many, it was a rare chance to rekindle bonds forged decades ago. “It feels like a miracle,” said Anirban Chakma, an alumnus from the Class of 1992, his voice trembling with emotion.

“After so many years, to laugh, to share stories with my friends again—it’s beyond words.”

But the day was more than nostalgia. It was a rallying cry, a call to action. Larma’s words rang out as a reminder that the hills, despite their beauty, bear scars that only justice can heal.

As Monghar marked its 50th year, it stood not just as a symbol of education and progress but as a testament to the resilience of the people of the CHT.

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