On a moonless Thursday evening, the Teesta River blazed not with fire, but with hope.

At exactly 6:30pm on October 16, over 1,00,000 people lined both banks of the mighty Teesta across 11 locations in Lalmonirhat, holding aloft flickering torches in a powerful, silent spectacle: “Jago Bahe, Teesta Banchai”—Awake, O Brethren, Let’s Save the Teesta.

This was no ordinary rally. It was a river-wide vigil, a luminous plea for life, livelihood, and justice, demanding the immediate launch of the long-pending Teesta Mega Project, a critical initiative to regulate water flow, prevent droughts, and revive agriculture in northern Bangladesh.

Organised by the grassroots “Jago Bahe Teesta Banchai” movement, the torch lighting united farmers, students, teachers, fishermen, and mothers who have watched their lands turn to dust as the Teesta’s waters dwindle – diverted upstream, mismanaged downstream, and neglected by decades of political delay.

At the central gathering in Lalmonirhat, Principal Asadul Habib Dulu, Lalmonirhat district BNP President and movement coordinator, stood before a sea of flames and declared a clear ultimatum: “The Teesta Mega Project must begin with our own funding before the February National Assembly election schedule is announced. If not, we will launch a massive movement across greater Rangpur blocking roads, shutting educational institutions, and bringing the region to a standstill until our river is saved.”

His words echoed the frustration of a region that contributes significantly to the nation’s food basket yet remains parched in dry seasons and flooded in monsoons—all because a fair water-sharing agreement remains unrealised and a vital domestic project remains on paper.

Nazrul Islam Haqqani, President of the Teesta Banchao Nodi Banchai Sangram Parishad, stood in solidarity, calling the Teesta “the lifeline of Rangpur”—not just a river, but a source of identity, survival, and sovereignty.

The torches, swaying like fireflies in the dusk, carried more than light. They carried the silent screams of barren fields, the empty nets of fishermen, and the dreams of children who’ve never seen the Teesta flow full.

As one elderly farmer put it, clutching his torch like a prayer: “We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for what’s ours—the right to water, to grow, to live.”

With over a lakh souls lighting the night, the message to Dhaka—and to the world—was unmistakable:

The people of the Teesta are awake. And they will not be ignored.