Bangladeshi Musician Becomes Voice of Rohingya Refugees with Viral Song About Homeland
Photo Collected
A poignant song written by a Bangladeshi musician has become the anthem of longing and resilience for over 1.4 million Rohingya refugees living in camps across Cox’s Bazar. Titled “O Arakan,” the track captures the deep-seated yearning for a homeland the refugees were forced to flee, transforming from a simple melody into a powerful symbol of their collective identity and struggle.
The song’s creator, 28-year-old musician Shahin Abrar from Kutubdia, composed the piece in the lead-up to the ninth anniversary of the Rohingya genocide, observed on August 25. Abrar, who holds a Master’s degree and works with the non-governmental organization COAST Foundation, began interacting with the displaced population in 2022. Witnessing their daily hardships and unwavering connection to their ancestral land, he felt compelled to use his artistry to highlight their humanitarian tragedy.
“As a sensitive artist, I realized that music is not just for entertainment; it is a tool to reflect contemporary crises and human tragedies,” Abrar said.
To ensure authenticity, Abrar collaborated with Rohingya artist Rohel Khan, blending the Rohingya language with the regional Chittagonian dialect. The resulting song, “O Arakan,” which translates to “Oh Arakan, my heart weeps; how long has it been since I saw your face,” gained immense traction on social media. It took center stage during the genocide remembrance ceremonies held across the 33 refugee camps in Ukhiya and Teknaf.
The impact of the song extends beyond its digital popularity. In the camps, children often surround Abrar to sing the chorus, while elders frequently request live performances. Abrar has since composed additional tracks, including “Ekdin Arakan Shohorot Fere Jaiyum” (One day we will return to Arakan city) and “Mum-Mikkha Chol” (Let’s return to our own land), to further inspire hope for repatriation.
For many refugees, the lyrics serve as a visceral reminder of the homes they left behind. Sabbir Ahmed, a 55-year-old resident of the Lambashia camp, noted that the song moves him to tears by evoking images of the green hills and wooden houses of his youth in Rakhine state.
“This song proves how sacred and dear the soil of one’s homeland is to a person,” said Tofael, a Rohingya youth who frequently performs the track alongside Abrar. “It gives voice to the cries of those who have lost everything and teaches us to remain responsible to our roots.”
As the refugees continue to gaze across the 271-kilometer border toward Rakhine, the song remains a fixture of their daily lives—a sonic bridge connecting them to a homeland they fervently hope to see again.
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