Born and raised in Điện Biên, I have long been familiar with that feeling, but this year, as the historic land marks the 72nd anniversary of the Điện Biên Phủ Victory, the flame seems clearer than ever. It is no longer a distant metaphor, but something present in every activity, every encounter, and every story retold during these days of May.

From the final days of April, Điện Biên naturally entered the atmosphere of commemoration. Along the streets, red flags, banners, and propaganda posters appeared more frequently, yet without feeling ostentatious or detached from everyday life. Markets remained crowded, small roadside cafés were still full of customers, students continued chattering after school - but somewhere within that ordinary rhythm was a quieter feeling, as if everyone was reserving a part of their thoughts for the memories of May.

I followed the flow of people to Hill A1 and Hill E, joining groups of veterans and visitors offering incense at the Martyrs’ Temple at the Điện Biên Phủ Battlefield. Within the historical setting, soft greetings and lingering glances seemed to connect strangers together. Beside me was veteran Đoàn Văn Trường from Cao Bằng, whose elder brother had participated in the Điện Biên Phủ Campaign and is now over ninety years old. Following his brother’s footsteps, he returned to Điện Biên. He recounted stories of the campaign in a deep voice, each sentence seeming to emerge from the depths of memory, as though he himself had fought on the battlefield. Behind those vivid recollections was pride in a generation that embraced hardship willingly, never needing to glorify sacrifice in order to create victory.

During the commemorative events, the streets of Điện Biên became busier than usual. More people arrived from across the country, yet it was not merely the crowds of tourism, but a journey back to history. At exhibition and display spaces, people moved in long lines, though no one spoke loudly or hurried past. Everyone seemed to want to spend a little more time with each story told through photographs and artifacts. At the photo exhibition on the Điện Biên Phủ Campaign inside the De Castries Bunker, I saw many visitors standing silently for a long time before documentary photographs. It was not the triumphant moments or the most heroic images that held them there, but the ordinary details of wartime life: porters quietly crossing forests at night, the eyes of soldiers inside trenches, or artillery being hauled along dimly lit mountain roads.

I, too, stood for a long time before the photograph of soldiers pulling artillery uphill. The steep slope, bodies leaning forward with every ounce of strength. Looking at that image, I saw not only hardship, but also the weight of pivotal decisions and the determination of human beings standing before great turning points in history. Things I had once known only through textbooks suddenly felt closer, more real, and far more haunting when faced through authentic images.

From the photography exhibition, I moved to the art exhibition at the Điện Biên Phủ Victory Museum themed “From battlefield sketches to contemporary colors”. The emotions here shifted to another layer - gentler, yet deeper. Battlefield sketches with simple, rough lines, sometimes only hurried strokes, were displayed side by side like a stream of visual memories. Looking at them, I felt they were not merely works of art, but fragments of memory preserved by the very hands of those who had lived through the war.

Among the works on display, I was especially impressed by paintings depicting present day Điện Biên. One portrayed Hill A1 during flamboyant flower season, red blossoms stretching beneath a blue sky - no trenches, no smoke of war, only the peace of a land that had survived conflict. Yet what struck me most was not the contrast between past and present, but the sense of continuity. The flame that once burned fiercely during wartime now seems transformed into another form - the flame of memory, of life, and of stories still passed down through generations.

Throughout the evenings from April 30 to May 2, the music program “Returning to the land of memories” took place. The venue was modest, located near the historic Mường Thanh Bridge. Soft lighting illuminated an audience seated close together, leaving almost no distance between performers and spectators. As familiar melodies filled the air, some quietly sang along while others remained silent, eyes fixed on the stage. Among the audience were veterans, tourists, and many young recruits. Together they listened and reflected on the long years of war and the gentle relief of peace.

After the performances, many young people stayed behind to talk with the veterans. Some asked for more stories about Điện Biên. A university student standing beside me whispered that hearing history directly from those who had lived it made it feel no longer distant. Listening to that, I realized how true it was - memory only truly lives when touched by genuine emotion.

More than seven decades later, Điện Biên has changed tremendously. Roads are wider, new residential areas have emerged, historical sites are better preserved, and cultural life has become richer. Yet the most precious thing lies not only in those changes, but in the way memory continues to be preserved without being trapped in the past. It lives on in reunions, exhibitions, concerts, and stories retold with deep respect by the people of this land.

One May afternoon, while passing Hill A1, I stopped for a very long time. The May wind drifted softly through the flamboyant trees, their crimson blossoms glowing in sunlight and beneath the evening lights like small but enduring flames. In that quiet moment, I suddenly realized that Điện Biên still carries within it two flames. One belongs to memory - deep, silent, forged through war yet never extinguished. The other belongs to the present, rekindled each day through the lives of the people and the way they continue telling their stories. The flame of Điện Biên is not a dazzling light meant to overwhelm, but one bright enough to guide the way, warm enough to comfort, and enduring enough for people to carry with them for a very long time.