Taunggyi Keeps Tazaungdaing Alive as Myanmar's War Shadows the Festival of Lights

Paper giants rise over a city seeking normal life

Animal balloons shaped like goats, hippos, ducks and birds rose into a clear evening sky over Taunggyi, on Myanmar's Shan Plateau, as the country's civil war continued beyond the surrounding hills. Teams fed fire into their paper creations, crowds roared from the stadium stands, and fireworks cascaded beneath the drifting balloons, briefly filling the sky with bright patterns.

Tazaungdaing, Myanmar's annual festival of lights, remains a source of pride and a rare chance to feel normal for residents living through the turmoil that followed the 2021 military takeover. The celebration has survived, drawing large crowds even as fighting, rising prices and uncertainty affect life across the country.

Regular attendees describe a more restrained atmosphere than in earlier years. Inside the grounds, conversations centre on balloon teams, designs and launch timing. Many people deliberately leave political arguments outside, seeing that separation as a way to preserve a tradition they have known since childhood.

Tazaungdaing falls on the full moon of Tazaungmon, usually in November, at the end of the rainy season. Across Myanmar, families light candles and offer alms at pagodas. In some regions, people weave a special robe for a monk overnight and donate it the following morning.

Taunggyi has developed its own spectacular expression of the holiday over generations. Local groups make large paper balloons, attach carefully arranged racks of fireworks and compete in precision, artistry and the timing of their displays in the air. The gathering combines a religious holiday, a community fair and a demanding test of craft.

The festival has grown from a neighbourhood event into a national attraction, bringing visitors from other parts of Shan State and beyond. For the city, the launches are both a public showcase of local skill and a familiar sign that community life continues.

Why familiar crowds feel different

Taunggyi residents who have attended for decades still come to follow favourite crews, watch teams set their balloons alight and exchange stories about daring displays from previous years. The contests retain familiar categories for shape, size and firework programming, even as some spectators say the feeling around them has changed.

Myo Ko, a local resident and repeat attendee aged 30, described the happiness he remembers and his wish for people from different communities to participate freely again.

Frankly speaking, we felt happier in the past. There were no politics. That kind of feeling is the best. All our ethnic brothers used to take part freely and happily. I want to get those times back.

Di Lone, a Taunggyi resident aged 50 who has cherished the festival since childhood, explained why he keeps national turmoil separate from the celebration.

Politics is politics. Festival is festival. We keep them separate. It's not related.

Stands fill early, and streets around the launching grounds become crowded with people. Many attendees who remember the festival in the 1990s and 2000s say it remains as packed as ever, although the cheers now feel more measured.

Residents are returning to more than an evening spectacle. Favourite teams, remembered launches and familiar gathering places connect this year's celebration with those that came before it. The wish to recover that earlier sense of ease runs alongside the determination to keep attending now.

War beyond the festival grounds

Shan State has experienced fresh battles since mid-2024, as ethnic armed alliances and resistance forces pushed along trade routes toward the Chinese border. In parts of the region, checkpoints, road closures and shifting front lines have become features of daily life.

Taunggyi lies away from most of the fighting, but residents still face the conflict's effects. Families worry about conscription, prices for fuel and goods have risen, and communication blackouts are common during security operations. Keeping the festival running is both a practical choice for the city and a symbolic commitment to its traditions.

The Armed Conflict Location and Event Data Project (ACLED), an independent monitor, puts the number killed across all sides in Myanmar since the 2021 coup at more than 85,000. The figure continues to rise as clashes and air strikes persist. Many communities have been displaced, while civil society groups describe acute humanitarian needs in urban and rural areas.

Military authorities have promoted elections scheduled to begin in December as a route to political reconciliation. Many citizens, including people in Taunggyi, remain cautious and concentrate on family, work and local rituals. At the festival, that approach becomes a shared effort to celebrate safely and leave arguments for another day.

The main developments surrounding this year's celebration span several dates:

• 2021: The military takeover began the period of national upheaval that continues to shape daily life.
• Mid-2024: Renewed battles in Shan State followed advances by ethnic armed alliances and resistance forces along trade routes toward China.
• October 2025: Amnesty International described a deadly attack on a peaceful vigil in Sagaing Region involving motorized paragliders.
• November 2025: The usual season for Tazaungdaing brings residents and visitors to Taunggyi for its balloon celebrations.
• December 2025: Military authorities have scheduled the start of elections that they present as a route to reconciliation.

As of November 1, the election timetable described here gives December as the starting month, without an exact opening date.

A ritual that gives the week a shape

Tazaungdaing gives residents a familiar sequence of activities during an unpredictable period: cleaning shrines, preparing offerings, gathering with friends and watching balloon crews work with fire and wind in the evening. Those routines provide structure when events elsewhere are harder to anticipate.

Parents bring children to pass the custom to another generation. Vendors set up stalls that also become places to meet and talk. The festival's value rests partly in these ordinary exchanges, alongside the moments when a balloon finally rises above the launch field.

Taunggyi's residents can plan around a shared occasion even while worrying about the wider conflict. Watching a favourite team, meeting neighbours and keeping a family tradition offer a pocket of predictability in a country where daily conditions can change quickly.

Managing fire, crowds and the risk of attack

Taunggyi's balloon nights carry physical dangers as well as visual excitement. Accidents in past years have occurred when balloons failed to gain height or racks of fireworks ignited too early. A launch can become hazardous before the paper envelope has moved far enough from the ground.

Teams try to reduce those risks through better staging, greater distance between spectators and launch zones, and stricter refereeing. Organizers tell visitors to respect barriers and follow marshals' directions during launch windows. Controlled space around the crews matters because they must handle large, fragile structures while working close to flames and fireworks.

Human rights groups also warn that public gatherings across Myanmar can be exposed to air attacks. In October, Amnesty International described a deadly strike on a peaceful vigil in Sagaing Region. Witnesses said small aircraft using powered paragliders dropped explosives onto the crowd, killing more than 20 civilians, including children, and injuring many others.

Amnesty International, the human rights organization that described the attack, warned about the use of motorized paragliders against civilians.

The use of motorized paragliders to kill civilians is a disturbing trend documented in the region.

The organization described the tactic as a worrying development that places civilians at risk even far from front lines. That warning adds another concern to the familiar challenges of managing firework launches and large crowds.

Residents in Taunggyi remain alert to possible danger. People look for exits, keep children close and charge their phones so they can coordinate if a scare occurs. Organizers work with local authorities and medical volunteers, seeking to provide a safe place for the seasonal tradition while conditions outside remain fragile.

How paper and bamboo become flying sculptures

Each competing balloon begins with a detailed plan. Crews build a lightweight bamboo frame, reinforce seams with strong paper and paste, and assemble the shape from dozens of paper panels. Those panels must be thin enough to keep weight down and precisely cut so the finished structure holds together.

A ring near the balloon's mouth supports a burner tray, where candles or a pan of charcoal provide the heat needed for lift. Heating the air inside allows the balloon to rise. The crew's task is to generate enough lift while protecting the paper structure and keeping its shape stable.

Humidity, temperature and wind all affect the launch. Experienced teams read the night air, tilt the mouth to feed the flame and avoid putting too much stress on the seams as the balloon inflates. The work demands coordination before spectators see the result overhead.

Designers choose from classic cylinders, ornate animal figures and elaborate temple shapes. Dyed paper and stencilled motifs decorate the envelopes, and some creations carry lanterns hanging from their frames. The animal balloons that attract cheers are part of a much wider range of designs.

The largest creations move slowly and require careful handling. Smaller balloons can be more nimble and gain height quickly. Every crew makes decisions about balance: a balloon that is too heavy struggles to rise, while one that is too light can drift unpredictably.

Those choices connect appearance with performance. An ambitious shape must still inflate, lift and remain steady enough to carry the planned display. The craft involves both artistic design and close attention to how the balloon behaves in the air.

Why the fireworks are central to the contest

Referees assess build quality, lift, stability and how closely the fireworks follow the planned pattern. They also score the ascent and the timing and form of the bursts. A successful entry must perform well from its first movement off the ground through its display overhead.

The most coveted prize usually goes to a balloon that climbs cleanly, maintains a steady posture and releases a sequence of aerial bursts that bloom in patterns. Crews arrange the order of rockets to draw shapes in the sky, making the fireworks the heart of the programme rather than a finishing decoration.

Teams spend months raising funds and refining their builds. Some receive support from local businesses that supply paper, fuel or prizes. Behind a few minutes of flight are repeated decisions about materials, weight, handling and the sequence spectators will eventually see.

Taunggyi's contest brings these tasks together. A striking design needs dependable construction; a carefully planned firework sequence needs a stable ascent. The judging rewards crews that make the different parts work as one performance.

Festival trade helps businesses through a hard year

Hotels, guesthouses and food sellers depend on festival week for a valuable rise in business. Customers queue at noodle stalls, vendors sell snacks near the launch field, and drivers carry visitors from nearby towns. The gathering creates work and trade beyond the balloon competition itself.

Taunggyi sees an increase in commerce as people converge on the city, despite checkpoints on some roads and curfews in certain areas. That income helps small businesses endure a difficult year, while the visiting crowds support accommodation, transport and food sales.

Balloon crews face higher costs and less predictable supply chains. Imported fireworks, fuel, paper and bamboo can be difficult to obtain. Experienced makers adjust their designs to the materials they can find, sometimes choosing smaller balloons or concentrating on precision rather than sheer size.

Many spectators come for the atmosphere as much as the feats of engineering. Their continued attendance gives crews room to adapt without abandoning the celebration, even when the materials or budgets available are different from those of earlier years.

Corporate sponsorship has also become more visible around the grounds. Longtime attendees have noticed more branding, and Myo Ko has expressed concern that some of the easy camaraderie of the past has faded. Others miss the close neighbourhood character of earlier festivals, when budgets were smaller and teams depended more heavily on family networks.

Business support helps workshops keep operating and offsets rising costs. Many residents welcome that help while also valuing the older sense of community ownership. Organizers must manage both the need to fund the event and the desire to preserve its familiar character.

A shared tradition across communities and distance

Shan State is home to Shan, Bamar, Pa-O, Intha and other communities. In better years, the festival brought together crews and spectators from across the region. Residents who miss that easy mixing want people from all communities to take part freely again.

Myo Ko's reference to "all our ethnic brothers" captures that longing for shared space in a country fragmented by conflict. The crowded grounds still provide a meeting place, even as some attendees remember a happier and less guarded atmosphere.

The festival also reaches beyond Taunggyi through phones and family connections. People share videos of launches with relatives in other towns and with family members abroad. Diaspora groups post photographs and look for the crews they grew up supporting.

Candles, familiar balloon shapes and the quiet moment before a launch carry memories across those distances. For people returning to the hillside city, or following from elsewhere, the images preserve a recognizable part of life while news from nearby districts remains heavy.

Taunggyi's celebration continues through the work of crews, the attendance of families and the trade that supports local businesses. Its bright launches exist alongside grief, caution and uncertainty, while residents keep a seasonal custom available to another generation.

What to Know

• Tazaungdaing falls on the full moon of Tazaungmon, usually in November, at the end of the rainy season.
• Taunggyi's festival features paper balloons in animal, temple and other shapes, with carefully timed firework displays.
• Attendees describe large crowds but a more restrained mood than in earlier years, with many keeping politics separate from the celebration.
• Shan State has experienced renewed fighting since mid-2024 along trade routes toward the Chinese border.
• ACLED estimates that more than 85,000 people across all sides have been killed nationwide since the 2021 coup.
• Amnesty International described an October attack on a vigil in Sagaing Region that killed more than 20 civilians, including children, using motorized paragliders.
• Organizers use controlled launch zones, marshals and coordination with authorities and medical volunteers to address safety risks.
• Crews build with paper and bamboo and are judged on construction, ascent, stability and firework timing.
• Festival trade supports local businesses, while rising costs, supply difficulties and sponsorship affect the work of balloon teams.
• Military authorities have scheduled elections to begin in December and promote them as a route to political reconciliation.
• Residents value the festival as a tradition shared across communities and a connection with relatives elsewhere in Myanmar and abroad.