At the North East Music Festival in Delhi, North East Took Centre Stage and the Capital Finally Listened

Two days before the North East Music Festival opened its gates at Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium on 22 February 2026, Delhi handed the nation a grimly familiar headline. Three young women from Arunachal Pradesh, students renting a flat in South Delhi’s Malviya Nagar, were subjected to a torrent of racial slurs by their neighbours. What began as a minor domestic dispute quickly became a viral indictment. The couple called the women “gutter-chaap,” told them to “go and sell momos”, and declared that “northeast people are shit.” An FIR was subsequently registered under sections dealing with criminal intimidation and promoting enmity on grounds of race. Arunachal Pradesh Chief Minister Pema Khandu personally contacted the Delhi Police Commissioner, demanding swift action; Meghalaya Chief Minister Conrad Sangma described the incident as “completely unacceptable” in a country built on diversity.

The timing was almost unbearable in its irony. Here was Delhi, preparing to host a festival explicitly designed to celebrate North Eastern identity, while a video of racial abuse filmed on a staircase in the same city spread across every social media platform. The two events, the festival and the assault, did not cancel each other out. They illuminated each other.

Sound Without Conflict

The North East Music Festival, billed under the subtitle ‘Sound Without Conflict’, was the first gathering of its kind to bring the full spectrum of North Eastern music to a major public venue in the capital. The lineup spanned from folk custodians to contemporary hip-hop. The artist list included Parikrama, Rudy Wallang, Girish Pradhan, Rewben Mashangva, Taba Chake, Reble, the Tetseo Sisters, and Borkung Hrangkhawl. Crucially, the festival operated on a free-entry, pre-registration model, a deliberate choice to lower access barriers and welcome students, families and professionals alike, rather than cordoning culture off behind a ticket price.

The organisers were unambiguous about their intent. “Our core objective is discovery that leads to connection,” they told Local Samosa. “Discovery of artists audiences may not have encountered before. Discovery of regional cuisines that are often underrepresented in mainstream food circuits. And most importantly, discovery of shared cultural ground.” The festival incorporated a curated North Eastern food experience alongside the performances, and interactive programming segments designed not merely to entertain but to facilitate dialogue. As the organisers put it, “If people leave wanting to explore more music, culture, and stories from the North East, then the festival has achieved its purpose.”

The broader ambition was nothing less than a reframing of how India’s live music industry understands the region. “The North East is not peripheral,” the organisers stated. “It is producing some of the country’s most original and globally relevant music.” In a year when global acts like Post Malone, whose concert at Guwahati drew massive crowds, the festival made the counterargument that depth and diversity, not just scale, define a healthy cultural ecosystem.

The Artists Speak

For the artists on stage, performing at the festival carried weight that went beyond any ordinary gig. The Tetseo Sisters, among the most celebrated musical exports from Nagaland, captured the mood precisely. “It’s an honour to be performing on the same stage with the crème de la crème of the North East’s music scene,” they said ahead of the event. “Looking forward to a reunion of sorts with all the super-talented artists whose art we enjoy.” On the question of whether regional artists are finally securing equitable platforms, they were measured but optimistic, “The limits are definitely breaking down but we artists continue to look forward to events and platforms like this to come together for a more meaningful sharing and interaction. We believe that the music itself will ensure your listing in a great curation more than the need for representation.”

After the festival concluded, the Tetseo Sisters reflected, “We had such a fabulous time at the festival. It was such a celebration and we are still glowing from the joy of sharing our music and being received with so much love. It was magical to say the least.”

Famous guitarist and composer Rudy Wallangbrought his own reading of Delhi’s peculiar cultural geography to the conversation. “I have always felt that Indians inherently have a sense for music, whether it is sung in Hindi, English, or any of the regional languages,” he said. “Especially Delhi, being a crossroads, so to say, for so many different nationalities and people from all over India — it’s truly a meeting ground.” He also spoke candidly about the structural inequity that has long constrained the region’s artists, “I personally feel that we have so much talent here in the North East, great bands, musicians, and singers who have been underrepresented most of the time. Our bands are as good as any other bands in the world, and we should be given representation on big stages and festivals.”

The Crowd Remembers

It was the audience, perhaps, who articulated the day’s stakes most precisely. For students from the North East living in Delhi, the festival was something rarer than entertainment. 

Aienla Jamir,22, an MA Sociology student from Nagaland, described what it felt like to stand in that crowd: “Growing up in Delhi, you’re constantly aware of being seen as ‘different’ before you’re seen as Indian. People ask where you’re really from, or assume you don’t speak Hindi. So standing in that crowd at the North East Music Festival felt quietly radical. Hearing artists from our region headline instead of being token openers made me realise how rare representation still is.”

Rinchen Lhama, 24, an LLB student from Arunachal Pradesh, cut to the political heart of the matter with the precision one might expect from a law student. “Delhi often consumes us as a cuisine, a costume, or a tourist destination,” she said. “But this festival showed our complexity. In a city where many North Eastern students still hesitate to report discrimination, seeing our stories platformed publicly felt empowering. It reminded me that visibility is not vanity, it’s a form of safety.”

The North East Music Festival cannot solve everything. It can not undo what happened in Malviya Nagar two days before its gates opened, nor can a single afternoon’s concert dismantle the structural biases that make life difficult for hundreds of thousands of people from the region living in Indian cities. But it demonstrated, loudly and unmistakably, that culture can reframe a conversation that politics has repeatedly failed to resolve. For one February night in Delhi, the North East was not a footnote. It was the headline.