Sylheti is not Bengali. It is a separate language with its own grammar, sounds, vocabulary and script. For centuries Sylheti has lived as an independent language with rich oral traditions and its own writing system, Syloti Nagri. To call it a dialect of Bengali is not a linguistic fact but a
political choice that erases identity and undermines heritage.

Examples from around the world prove the point. French and Italian both came from Latin, yet each stands as a separate language. Spanish and Portuguese are partly understood by each other’s speakers, but neither is dismissed as a dialect. Hindi and Urdu share grammar and vocabulary, yet both are recognised in their own right. English took nearly half its words from French, but it is never called a branch of French. Maltese, with only half a million speakers, is safeguarded as an official EU language. 

Closer to home, Assamese and Bengali both use the Eastern Nagri script and share thousands of common words. Yet Assamese is fully recognised as an independent language. Sylheti goes even further, with its own historic script, Syloti Nagri, and a grammar and sound system that differ sharply from Bengali. To call Sylheti a dialect while Assamese is respected as a language is a clear double standard. By every fact of linguistics and common sense, Sylheti is not Bengali.

Culture tells the same story. Sylheti food, rituals and festivals are not Bengali. Hatkora, the citrus fruit unique to Sylhet, is not shatkora. Wedding customs such as Mas Kata are not Bengali practices. Sylheti songs and dances have their own sound, rhythm and emotion. This culture
belongs to Sylheti people, not to Bengali heritage.

Identity makes it clearer still. Sylhetis long referred to outsiders as Bengoli or Abadi, meaning migrant. Half of Sylhet lies in India, yet the people remain the same in speech and tradition. In the United Kingdom, the majority of British Bangladeshis are Sylheti. From London to New York, Sylhetis speak the same language and share the same identity. This makes Sylhetis a nation in cultural terms: not a country with borders, but a people bound together by their own language and heritage.

Despite this, Sylheti is now under threat. In Bangladesh, children have been punished at school for speaking it. Families fearing stigma have told them to hide it. Over the last two decades in particular, many young people have grown ashamed of their own mother tongue. The spoken
form has become increasingly Banglafied and very few can read or write Syloti Nagri. A language that once flourished is now at risk of suffocation.

Campaigning to save Sylheti is not separatism. That accusation has been used as a tool of fear, but it is false. Protecting a language is not division, it is dignity. Teaching children their mother tongue is not betrayal, it is justice. Preserving Syloti Nagri is not rebellion, it is responsibility.

From the days before the kingdom of Gour Gobindo to the divided Sylhet of today, Sylheti has always been Sylheti. It has never been Bengali. It is a language, a culture, a heritage and an identity in its own right. To deny that truth is to deny history and common sense.

Sylheti is Sylheti. Sylheti is not Bengali