Pohela Boishakh without kobita is like Eid without shemai. Technically possible, spiritually wrong.
Every Boishakh morning, somewhere in Dhaka, someone is reciting the old new-year poems while the mongol shobhajatra gets ready. The poems are not decoration. They are the day's backbone, the words that tell everyone what the celebration means.
Eid has its own poetic tradition. Poems about the moon sighting, about new clothes as a kid, about the quiet prayer before the crowd arrives. The best Eid poems mix joy with a small ache for people who are not at the table.
For Bangladeshis abroad, these festival poems do heavy emotional work. You cannot always fly home for Eid. But you can read the poem your mother used to recite, and for three minutes the distance shrinks.
A practical idea: send a festival poem to family back home instead of just typing Eid Mubarak. It takes the same ten seconds and it means ten times more. People remember who sent the poem.
If you are organizing a Boishakh or Eid program at your mosque or community center in London or New York or Dubai, build it around two or three short poems. Programs with poetry feel rooted; programs without it feel like just another dinner.
Collections for both occasions, ready to share, are at kobitaghar.com.