Thingyan has become virtually unrecognisable from its traditional roots as a cleansing New Year celebration. Amongst all the changes, though, there is one constant feature: it remains the site of new relationships. Where in the past a potential suitor would raise their interest with a gentle pouring of water over their love interest’s shoulder, now the festival is marked by intoxicated young people hooking up under flashing lights and sprinkler systems all to the deafening tune of international and domestic hits.

Thingyan is a time of opportunity for young people looking for love for obvious reasons: partying, wet clothes, excessive alcohol and low inhibitions. In the context of Myanmar’s conservative society it makes even more sense. It is perhaps the only time of the year when almost all single young women and men will be out looking for fun and partners.

Ask a young Burmese person when they started dating their current partner and the answer will be overwhelmingly: last Thingyan. Ask a young Burmese person when they ended their last relationship: just before Thingyan. The promise of long-term love, not to discount the short-term encounter, is enough to jolt discontented partners. It’s a new year, and freshly cleansed of sins young men are ready for a new girlfriend or two.

The event is heavily stratified, with young elites on the mandats (stages), and the wider population on the streets and in the back of trucks. Further, between the mandats are more subtle distinctions, including between the music style preferred – hip hop, rock or pop – the party accoutremounts of choice – alcohol or drugs – and the markers of exclusiveness – financial or cultural cachet. Even on the stages more distinctions are visible – between the general, VIP, and artist areas. The most scantily-clad girls are almost always found in the VIP areas, and, interestingly, these areas tend to be only partially covered in sprinkler systems, allowing attendants the option to remain dry, and seemingly violate the one golden rule of Thingyan. Predictably, the relationships that are formed during the four days in these partitioned spaces are between similarly classed and aligned young people.

In short, while Thingyan is celebrated as a cleansing and socially unifying festival, a closer inspection reveals the gross inequality and youthful behaviour to be expected during such an event in Myanmar. Perhaps you don’t notice it until you try and walk from one mandat to another on the street, only to be almost blasted off your feet by a fire hose cannon, or when you are behind one of the hoses and are urged by your fellow hose wielders to unite and target specific people and cars below. But at some point during the four days the distinct hierarchy of the festival strikes you. Thingyan is an expression of Myanmar’s surprisingly international tendencies and its domestic inequalities.

While looking down Kabaye Paya Road or Pyay Road the scene is overwhelming at first: literally thousands of arcs of water pouring out from the mandats, drenching the welcoming truckloads of people stuck in an almost complete and entirely intentional gridlock, waiting patiently at either end for their turn for a good soaking. Those on the streets remain there, never challenging security on the stages or getting upset by the traffic: life is suspended for four days. Optimistically, this might be put down to fun and tradition. More pessimistically, Thingyan could be viewed as a four-day performance laying bare Myanmar’s inequalities and demonstrating its population’s disciplined aptitude to take a good drenching from its elites.

Jacqueline Menager is a PhD candidate at the College of Asia and the Pacific, Australian National University.