Twenty-five years means a generation that grew up inside these songs and then grew older and found the songs had grown with them. It means a country that changed and kept reaching for the same guitar riffs when it needed something to hold onto.

TAZRI MARWA AHMED

From underground stages to performing in front of millions, Nemesis marked its 25th year with a remarkable solo concert called Eto Diner Poreo Je on May 22 at InterContinental Dhaka from 6 pm onwards. Presented by Dhaka Broadcast and sponsored by Prime Now and Carpe Diem, the evening was the kind of night that does not leave you — one that felt less like a concert and more like a landmark.

That evening belonged to more than one generation. The first generation that loved Nemesis showed up that night carrying twenty-five years with them. Some brought their teenagers. Some brought children young enough not to fully understand where they were yet, only that something important was happening.

The room felt everything from tears, joy, disbelief, gratitude and people let it all move through them without resistance and did not want it to end. Neither did the band members. The only reason anyone reached for their phone that night was to hold onto a moment, a song, or a face on stage that already felt like a memory they knew they would want to return to.

The night of May 22 was extraordinary. The surprises came one by one. When former guitarist of Nemesis, maestro Maher Khan, walked out and performed, the room did not quite know what to do with itself. Former members Yawar Mehboob and Omayr Khan performed before him. Dio Haque also showed up and rocked the stage. And at one point, three-fourths of Cryptic Fate, including Shakib Chowdhury and Farhan Samad, performing alongside Nemesis in front of a crowd that had long stopped expecting the night to get any bigger.

Before the show, the band had said it plainly: “Any hardcore Nemesis fan who misses this show will never get to experience anything like it again.”

Twenty-five years means a generation that grew up inside these songs and then grew older and found the songs had grown with them. It means a country that changed and kept reaching for the same guitar riffs when it needed something to hold onto. It means Gonojowar , written a decade ago, has become the sound of a revolution, its bridge sung in the streets by people who found in it exactly what they needed, exactly when they needed it.

“What we stand for, and why we make music — that has not changed,” says Zohad. “The hunger to test ourselves, to learn, to explore beyond what we already know. I love getting on stage and trying to win the crowd over. Every single time.”

That hunger is the through line. Across line-ups, across decades, across an industry that has shifted beneath them more than once, that hunger is what has remained. And it is what will carry them into the next twenty-five years.