At first glance, the name Ashim Chakma may not immediately resonate with many readers. His face is not widely known, and his journey has unfolded far from major cultural institutions. Yet for those who have heard the Chakma song “Di Chogot Hodok Sobon Mor,” the emotional impact is difficult to forget. There was something in that melody—quiet, intimate, and deeply rooted—that felt as if the hills themselves were speaking.
Ashim Chakma is the creator behind that song. He may not yet be a fully formed professional artist in the conventional sense, but what he has already created has touched thousands of hearts. His work reflects a new kind of cultural expression emerging from the hills—one shaped by technology, curiosity, and a deep attachment to language and identity.
Ashim was born in Shukorchhari, a small hill village in Subalong Union of Barkal Upazila, Rangamati district. His father, Suman Chakma, and mother, Shovarani Chakma, raised him in a household where financial resources were limited, but affection and encouragement were abundant. From an early age, Ashim carried a quiet dream—to present his people to the world, to speak his mother tongue with pride, and to ensure that Chakma culture did not fade in a rapidly changing digital age.
Unlike many children, Ashim’s curiosity leaned less toward games and more toward screens. Images, sounds, and movement fascinated him. Video, visuals, and music gradually became his creative world. Without access to professional equipment, he began experimenting with what he had—a simple mobile phone. That modest device would eventually open a new creative path.
On November 15, 2016, Ashim launched his YouTube channel. At the time, it felt like a small and almost invisible step. He recorded village events, Buddhist religious ceremonies, and everyday life, edited them on his phone, and uploaded them online. Viewership was limited, and recognition was rare. Yet Ashim continued, understanding that consistency often matters more than immediate attention.
As technology evolved, so did his curiosity. The emergence of artificial intelligence (AI) caught his interest—not as entertainment, but as a creative tool. He began learning how AI could be used to experiment with sound, shape vocals, and assist music production. At some point, a simple question arose: Was anyone using these tools to create music in the Chakma language?
The answer was no. And that absence became his starting point.
While many were using AI for trends or amusement, Ashim chose a different path. He decided to reimagine Chakma music—using modern tools to give new life to a language deeply tied to memory and identity. To him, technology was not a replacement for tradition, but a new space for it to breathe.
His first AI-assisted song, “Di Chogot Hodok Sobon Mor,” marked a turning point. When it appeared on YouTube, it resonated immediately. Young listeners said they had never heard a Chakma song like this before. The melody carried a softness that felt contemporary, yet unmistakably rooted in the hills. The song travelled quickly—from villages to towns, and from screens into people’s emotions.
He followed it with “Hakkonne Jonom.” For many listeners, the song carried a quiet intensity. Some listened in silence; others felt a sudden emotional connection. In those sounds, people rediscovered their language, their culture, and a form of pride that often remains unspoken. These works demonstrated that Chakma music could evolve without losing its soul.
Beyond music, Ashim has also begun exploring short-form visual storytelling as another cultural medium. He is currently working on a short video film titled “JODABOLL,” a project centred on the idea of unity, designed as an educational piece for young audiences. The film reflects his belief that cultural values can be shared not only through songs, but also through simple visual narratives.
Earlier, he created a short film titled “Chakma Force.” Ashim openly acknowledges that these works are modest and cannot be compared to modern commercial cinema in terms of production quality or technical sophistication. Their importance lies elsewhere. They represent early creative experiments by an Indigenous youth using available digital tools to explore culture, identity, and collective responsibility.
For Ashim, these projects are not about perfection. They are about learning, imagination, and possibility. They signal a quiet but meaningful shift—Indigenous young people beginning to understand what AI and digital tools are, and how those tools can be used to express their own culture rather than consume someone else’s.
Ashim is fully aware of the realities of digital platforms. He knows that success on YouTube often depends on equipment, promotion, and funding—none of which he has in abundance. What he does have is something rarer: an unwavering belief in his roots, discipline in his work, and a deep emotional connection to his language.
“I don’t just make songs,” Ashim has said. “I want the world to know that our language can sing, feel, and love.”
Today, Ashim Chakma represents more than individual talent. He has become a symbol of a generation that blends technology with culture to form new identities. His journey shows that creativity does not require large studios or urban privilege—only commitment, imagination, and love for one’s heritage.
His music and videos are now travelling beyond the hills, reaching cities and members of the Chakma diaspora. Young people speak of his work with pride. Some say his efforts have encouraged them to look again at their language, their songs, and their stories.
Ashim Chakma is not merely a YouTuber. He is a cultural messenger, carrying his people’s voice through modern tools. His work reminds us that even with limited means, expansive dreams can take shape. His songs and films are not just creative outputs—they are expressions of language, memory, and cultural continuity.
Talent, however, does not grow alone. It needs support, recognition, and belief. When young Indigenous creators choose to work with their language and culture, they need more than applause. They need practical encouragement—access to tools, opportunities to learn, and platforms that allow their voices to be heard.
Supporting Ashim is not simply supporting one individual. It is an act of cultural preservation. It is a way of ensuring that languages like Chakma continue to live, evolve, and resonate with future generations.
From a quiet hill village, a young man is singing and storytelling in the language of technology. The hills, once distant from the digital world, now have a voice. The question that remains is whether we are willing to listen and to stand beside that voice so it can travel further.
