Festival within festival: Japan arena at Shillong Cherry Blossom Festival

“It’s like two different worlds,” a young woman told her friend as they walked from the main arena towards the Japan section at Bhoirymbong's Cherry Blossom Festival. She wasn't wrong. While the main stage area was packed with people struggling to catch a glimpse of Akon, the Japan Arena felt like stepping into an intimate matsuri (festival) where cultures danced together under November skies. 

The contrast was striking from the moment anyone crossed the invisible boundary between the two spaces. Behind the main stage, production crews rushed about with walkie-talkies, coordinating the complex logistics of international acts. Clean Bandit’s Grace Chatto could be spotted in a corner, carefully tuning her electric cello, while Kanika Kapoor’s team meticulously arranged her elaborate costume changes. The air thrummed with the nervous energy that precedes any major concert.

But just a few hundred metres away, the Japan Arena moved to an entirely different rhythm. Steam rose from fresh udon noodles, perfuming the crisp mountain air with promises of comfort, while the familiar scent of ja stem (yellow rice) created a perfect fusion of aromas. Near the food stalls, teenagers in oversized anime hoodies huddled over bowls of pork miso, their chopsticks clicking as they shared bites of the meal and debated which performance to catch next. Their excited chatter mixed Japanese anime phrases with local expressions, creating their own festival dialect that somehow made perfect sense.

As one wandered around, it became clear this was where things came to life. Young designers transformed fabric into stories, with Arif Mukhim's Sakura-inspired contest blending Northeast India's deep culture with Japan's vibrant energy. Every stitch told a story that demanded attention, and honestly, it was hard to look away. 

But the true beauty of the festival wasn’t just in its fashion or food—it was in the music, in how each performance blurred the lines between genres and backgrounds.

Aben from Tripura stood out—not just for his incredible sound but for how he effortlessly blended his roots with indie pop. He mixed English, Hindi, and Manipuri like they were all part of one global language, and you couldn’t help but follow.

And then there was The Kindred Spirits. You could tell right away that this band wasn’t just going through the motions. They had a vibe, a chemistry that transcended the music. Jeremy B Mawlong’s guitar led the way, while the rest of the group—Steven on bass, Rondol on guitar, Jerryberg on keys, and Kevin on drums—created a sound that paid homage to Paul Lyngdoh's timeless words.

J-Hind turned the energy up several notches, their Japanese take on Indian popular music creating a sonic bridge between cultures. Koji Sato’s vocals, combined with Takashi Suzuki's guitar and Taisei Toyomaru’s drumming, created magic, especially during their cover of “Choo Lo” by The Local Train. Toyomaru became an unexpected star, drawing fans (mainly women) for photos.

Amaiwana, the J-pop sensation from Tokyo, brought a touch of kawaii charm to the festival. Her vintage red dress and upbeat energy had the crowd wrapped around her finger. But it wasn’t just about her voice—it was the way she spoke to the audience, teaching them Japanese phrases, making everyone feel like they were part of something international yet deeply personal.

But it wasn’t all pop sweetness. Zombie-Chang, also known as Meirin Yung, brought a different vibe, one that was raw and unapologetic. She unleashed a sonic storm, blending punk with electronic beats, and it felt like the festival ground had been hit with a wave of electricity. It wasn’t for everyone, but for those who got it, it was a raw, unfiltered experience.

DYGL (pronounced as day glow) transformed the night with their electric indie rock. The Tokyo quartet—Nobuki Akiyama, Kohei Kamoto, Yosuke Shimonaka, and Yotaro Kachi—delivered a performance that felt like pure electricity. As confetti exploded into the air and tired festival-goers found their second wind, even those who had been fixated on Akon's main stage performance found themselves drawn to DYGL's magnetic energy.

And just when one thought they’d seen it all, day 2 brought the Mr and Miss Cherry Blossom pageant, a long-standing tradition of the festival. The contestants not only impressed with their confidence but also spoke about the Sakura connection between Meghalaya and Japan. In the end, they were crowned and walked away with prizes, adding another memorable moment to the event. The Scandal Dance Troupe took this idea even further. With East Asian culture having a strong influence in the region—whether through food, fashion, or the love for K-pop and J-pop—a group of local girls performing to J-pop numbers felt right at home.

It was clear how seamlessly cultures were blending at the festival—whether through confident pageant contestants celebrating connections or local performers embracing J-pop with ease.

And then came a moment that truly brought it all together.

"Jeene ka sahi dhang seekhe hum…" — it's a tune almost every Indian kid knows by heart from the Hindi version of Doraemon. But imagine hearing it sung in its original Japanese. That’s exactly what Kira, a J-pop vocalist from Tura, did, and it was like a jolt of nostalgia with a fresh twist. Her performance had kids joining in, even if they didn’t know the words, their excitement bridging the language gap.

As the evening took its turn into something darker, things took a different turn with Lillies and Remains. The Japanese duo’s sound was haunting, introspective, and deep. It wasn’t flashy—it didn’t need to be. The performance felt like something you had to sink into, each note pulling you deeper into a cultural conversation that was as much about atmosphere as it was about sound.

It’s not every day you see someone who looks like they’ve stepped right out of an anime, but then came Nonoc. With her pixie-cut hair and quirky outfit, she already had the crowd’s attention before she even sang a note. When she performed the Re:Zero theme song, the energy in the arena shifted. Phone lights came out, voices joined in, and for a few minutes, it felt like the whole crowd was part of something bigger.

The night seemed to flow effortlessly, with one captivating moment blending into the next.

However, there’s usually that lull between performances—the soundcheck, the instrument setups—that’s when the audience starts to drift. But not this time. As the band Newspeak prepared for their main set, Rei casually sang Cold/Mess by Prateek Kuhad, and suddenly, the audience wasn’t waiting anymore—they were listening. His soulful rendition turned what’s usually dead time into something intimate and special, keeping everyone hooked until the full band came together to deliver their main act.

As one moment seamlessly led to another, the festival kept its momentum alive, ensuring there was never a dull pause in the evening.

The festival grounds fell silent as Yukiko-san stepped forward, her commanding presence drawing all eyes. With measured grace and clear authority, she began explaining the ancient rituals of sumo wrestling, her voice carrying across the arena as the two wrestlers of the Hirakuza Sumo Team stood at attention. “Sumo is not just about size,” she explained, each word carefully chosen, “it is about respect, technique, and centuries of tradition.”

What followed was a masterclass in Japanese sporting culture. At Yukiko-san's commands, the wrestlers demonstrated the fundamental movements of sumo, their powerful bodies moving with surprising agility. The audience gasped at the thunderous collisions, the strategic footwork, and the lightning-quick victories that sometimes lasted mere seconds. For most of the crowd, this was the first time they were witnessing sumo wrestling in person—it had always been something they had seen only on TV. It was a fascinating and thrilling sight for them.

As Yukiko-san would call out, the wrestlers would adjust their mawashi (wrestling belts), performing the time-honoured preparation rituals. “Tachiai!” she commanded, and they would crash together like mountains meeting, the impact echoing across the festival grounds. Between bouts, she explained the significance of each movement, each ritual.

The real magic happened when Yukiko-san invited audience members to participate. “Who wants to challenge our champions?” she asked. Several brave (or perhaps foolhardy) festival-goers made their way to the stage, where they were helped into padded sumo suits, their nervous laughter turning to determined grins as they faced their professional opponents. One particularly memorable bout featured a man who found himself airborne within seconds, landing with a theatrical bounce that had the whole arena roaring with laughter.

The demonstrations evolved over the festival’s two days, with Yukiko-san building on the previous day’s lessons to showcase more complex techniques and strategies. The audience, now somewhat educated in sumo basics, responded with knowing “oohs” and “aahs” at particularly skillful moves, calling out the Japanese terms they’d learned with endearing enthusiasm if not perfect pronunciation.

The festival buzzed with energy, building up to its grand finale—the cosplay contest, where creativity and cultural exchange took the spotlight.

Backstage, the cosplay scene had its own buzz. Contestants were adjusting their wigs, perfecting their poses, and waiting patiently for their turn to hit the stage. Some had been waiting for hours, but the excitement never waned. Each person was fully immersed in their character, bringing them to life with every little detail.

When they finally stepped onto the stage, it was clear these weren’t just costumes. Each character represented something deeper—a piece of the shared culture and creativity between two worlds. The atmosphere was electric, with every move and every detail showcasing the unique bond that had come together in this moment.

And the interactive stations? They were like tiny windows into Japan—each origami fold, each brushstroke in calligraphy, and each Lolita fashion try-on, another way to make the unfamiliar familiar.

The vibe at the Shillong Cherry Blossom Festival was as different as it was unexpected. The contrast between the buzzing main stage and the cosy, laid-back atmosphere of the Japan Arena was undeniable. But by the end, it was clear these worlds weren’t so far apart after all.

What started as a clash of cultures became something else entirely—a fusion that worked in ways no one expected. Whether it was local girls dancing to J-pop or the cosplay contestants living out their character moments, the festival wasn’t about perfect blending. It was about embracing differences, making space for what felt right, and turning those moments into something unforgettable. As the fireworks lit up the sky, the message was simple: sometimes, the most unexpected pairings make the best show.