In the predawn hours of April 12, a fire on the Dhaka University campus reduced a 20-foot bamboo-and-cane sculpture called the “face of fascism” to ash. A papier-mâché dove, symbolising peace, was also charred.

The arson attack on the artwork was the visceral climax of a debate over a single word: “mangal” or auspicious.

It had been sparked by the university administration’s decision to rebrand the iconic Mangal Shobhajatra procession, which is held on Bengali New Year on April 14, as the Borsho Boron Anondo Shobhajatra (“Procession of Joy in the New Year Embracement”).

The renaming of the 36-year-old tradition, which had been born in protest against military dictatorship, has ignited a cultural war in Bangladesh.

Officials claim they are restoring the event’s original name. But the timing and context betrayed a darker agenda: the erasure of a symbol that once unified Bengalis across religious and political divisions.

The Mangal Shobhajatra began not as a festival but as a revolt. In 1989, under General Hussain Muhammad Ershad’s autocratic regime, students at Dhaka University’s Faculty of Fine Arts crafted grotesque owls (to represent corruption), tigers (courage), and doves (peace) to mock the military’s grip on power.

They paraded these figures through the campus at an event they called Ananda Shobhajatra (“Joyful Procession”).

By 1996, as democracy flickered to life in the wake of fresh elections, the name was changed to Mangal Shobhajatra and became a symbol of Bangladesh’s anti-authoritarian ethos.

This evolution mirrors a global pattern: traditions are often forged in crisis. Consider France’s Bastille Day, which transformed revolutionary chaos into a sanitised national holiday, or India’s Republic Day parade, which repackaged colonial-era military displays as postcolonial pride.

In 2016, the procession was recognised by Unesco as an important part of the world’s “Intangible Cultural Heritage. But that very acclaim has made it a target. Islamist groups have decried the event as a “Hindu ritual”. Its secular motifs (peacocks, owls) and anti-fascist slogans are seen as an affront.

The renaming of the procession is not mere semantics. The word “mangal” carries layers of historical weight. Its adoption in the 1990s reflected a collective yearning for democracy. Its erasure today signals a retreat from that vision. As one critic noted, “They’re not just changing a name – they’re rewriting a manifesto”.

The university’s administration’s justification for the rechristening is riddled with contradictions. While claiming to restore the 1989 name, officials omitted to explain that adding the word “mangal” to the name was a deliberate response to the anti-Ershad movement.

Professor Azharul Islam Chanchal, convener of the celebration committee, insisted the change is organic. But university arts students said they would boycott the event, describing it as “hypocritical” and politically coerced.

The backlash extended beyond campuses. Online, users mocked the renaming as capitulation to extremism: “Why not rename Tuesday [Mongolbar] as Anondobar?” asked one social media user. Others said this was selective cultural cleansing.

The regime’s move is as much about geopolitics as domestic control. Bangladesh has deepened ties with Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, nations wary of secular activism. Scrubbing motifs associated with Hinduism (peacocks, owls) and replacing “mangal” with “anondo” aligns with Gulf sensibilities, where “joy” is palatable but political agency is not.

Domestically, the rebranding appeases Islamist groups such as the Hefazat-e-Islam, which said that the word “mangal” was “un-Islamic.” The administration’s claim that the event is inclusive rings hollow. While 410 artists from 26 ethnic groups were to be included in the parade this year, their participation is tightly choreographed. A Mro artist asked, “Why must Bengali traditions be diluted to include us? Our festivals are separate.”

The arson attack on the “face of fascism” sculpture gave a sense of what was at stake. While officials blamed “unknown miscreants” for the fire, students alleged complicity of the university authorities. “They want to erase any symbol that challenges their narrative,” said one student who requested anonymity.

The renaming of the Mangal Shobhajatra is not a return to roots but a retreat from them. It reflects a global authoritarian playbook: co-opt cultural symbols, sanitise dissent, and rewrite history.

Yet the procession’s legacy remains alive in those who refuse to forget.

Zakir Kibria is a writer from Bangladesh. He is a chronicler of entropy, chasing caffeine, free falls, and glances. His email address is zk@krishikaaj.com.