The Reminiscences of Traveling in Rural and Riverine Bangladesh During My Childhood

Growing up in Bangladesh in the 1960s and 70s was an adventure, especially if your childhood was spent traversing its intricate waterways and rural landscapes. My memories of those days are filled with the sounds of creaking pedal steamers, the rhythmic splashing of paddles against the river, and the unmistakable chugging of patrol boats cutting through the water. I was fortunate to have experienced Bangladesh in its raw, untamed beauty, during a time when the landscape was as much a part of the people’s lives as their own families.

Journeys Through the Southern Districts: The Majesty of the Sundarbans

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One of my earliest memories is the thrill of navigating through the dense, mysterious mangrove forests of the Sundarbans in the southern district of Khulna. The Sundarbans, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is the largest tidal halophytic mangrove forest in the world. As a child, the journey into the Sundarbans felt like a plunge into a realm of legends and lore. We would set out on steam-powered pedal boats, marveling at the rich biodiversity that adorned the landscape on both sides of the river.

There was an aura of reverence and fear as we ventured deeper into the forest. The steamer would slowly make its way, breaking through the water lilies and the green algae that painted the water’s surface. The tall Sundari trees stood as sentinels along the riverbanks, their roots twisting and turning like serpents that whispered stories of the ancient forest.

The beauty of the Sundarbans was not just in its towering trees and winding creeks but in its rich wildlife. I can still vividly recall a sight that both terrified and fascinated me — the elusive Royal Bengal tiger, a majestic beast of the Sundarbans, making its way down the slippery riverbank to quench its thirst. We watched from the deck of our boat, holding our breath in awe as the tiger dipped its head into the water. For a moment, it was just us and the tiger, sharing the quietude of the evening.

Another captivating sight was the spotted deer of the Sundarbans, moving in flocks with their captivating, curious eyes reflecting the golden sunlight. They would gather along the water’s edge, gracefully sipping from the river, their ears twitching at the slightest sound. These delicate creatures, with their graceful movements and arresting gaze, added a sense of serenity and elegance to the otherwise rugged landscape of the Sundarbans.

Sylhet’s Haors and Rivers: A Symphony of Water and Sky

My travels were not limited to the southern regions; I was equally captivated by the northern part of the country, especially the haors of Sylhet. The haors are unique wetland ecosystems that transform into vast lakes during the monsoon season, creating a spectacular view of water meeting sky. These wetlands, dotted with hundreds of country boats, are vital to the ecosystem and the people who depend on them for their livelihood.

We often journeyed through the Surma and Kushiara rivers, which crisscrossed Sylhet like veins of life. The beauty of these rivers lay not just in their crystal-clear waters but in the way they meandered through villages, rice paddies, and tea gardens. I remember the early mornings on the boat, watching fishermen casting their nets with a practiced elegance, their silhouettes against the rising sun painting a scene straight out of a watercolor dream.

One of the most fascinating parts of our journeys in Sylhet was a visit to the border town of Dauki, known as the wettest place on Earth. Boating on the Dauki River, the pristine waters so clear that the bottom seemed almost within reach, we would catch glimpses of the tea gardens that lined the hills. The lush green tea estates, like the Kumar Shill Tea Gardens or the Dauki Tea Estate, stretched across the horizon.

What truly captivated me, however, were the mammoth elephants of these tea gardens, used for carrying tea chests from the plantations to the nearest railway station. The elephants, adorned with colorful cloths and bells, would slowly make their way down the hilly paths, their giant feet moving with a grace that belied their size. I would watch in awe as these magnificent creatures, with their wise, soulful eyes, transported the chests of freshly harvested tea — tea that would eventually make its way to far-off places like Europe or even America. The sight of these majestic elephants, their trunks swaying gently, their ears flapping rhythmically, remains etched in my memory.

Navigating the Mighty Karnaphuli and the Lakes of Rangamati

The Karnaphuli River, with its powerful currents, posed a different kind of challenge and thrill. Originating in the hills of the Chittagong Hill Tracts and cutting through the city of Chittagong, the Karnaphuli was both a source of life and a formidable force of nature. The journey through the Karnaphuli on a speedboat was a test of nerves as we sped past strong currents and swirling whirlpools, the wind whipping against our faces.

Further upstream, the lakes of Rangamati and Kaptai offered a stark contrast. These tranquil bodies of water, surrounded by lush green hills, were like a painting brought to life. The boat would glide silently on the placid water, creating gentle ripples that seemed to stretch out forever. The serenity of Rangamati’s lakes was only broken by the occasional call of a bird or the laughter of children playing by the water’s edge.

The lakes of Kaptai, formed by a dam on the Karnaphuli River, held a special place in my heart. This was where I first learned to appreciate the silence of nature — a silence so profound that it seemed to speak to you, urging you to listen to the heartbeat of the hills and the whisper of the wind. The stillness of the water mirrored the blue sky above, and on clear days, it felt as if the boat was floating in the heavens.

The Fauna of Bangladesh: A Living Canvas of Nature

The rivers and lakes of Bangladesh were not just water bodies; they were lifelines that supported a diverse range of fauna. My journeys often felt like safaris, where every bend in the river or curve of the lake held the promise of an encounter with nature’s wonders.

Dolphins, or colloquially known as 'shishu,' were a common sight in the rivers of Bangladesh. These playful creatures would swim alongside our boats, occasionally leaping out of the water as if to greet us. The sight of a dolphin arching gracefully over the water’s surface, its sleek body glistening in the sunlight, was a reminder of the richness of the river’s ecosystem.

Birds, too, were a constant presence. From the vibrant kingfishers darting across the water to the majestic eagles soaring high above, the avian life of Bangladesh added a burst of color and movement to the serene landscape. I remember watching in fascination as a flock of migratory birds took flight from a nearby marsh, their wings flapping in perfect synchrony, creating a spectacle of nature’s choreography.

Fishing and Feasting: Meals on the Boat

No journey in Bangladesh would be complete without the culinary delights that accompanied it. Fish, fresh from the river, would be cooked right on the boat, the aroma of spices mingling with the crisp river breeze. We would often catch fish like rui, katla, and hilsa — each variety offering a unique taste that was enhanced by the knowledge that it had come straight from the water below.

The boatmen, skilled in the art of cooking over open fires, would prepare simple yet delicious meals. The fish would be fried to a perfect golden brown or slow-cooked in a curry infused with green chilies, mustard oil, and turmeric. These meals, enjoyed while watching the sunset over the water, were not just about nourishment; they were about connecting with the land and the people who called it home.

The Sunset Over the Bay of Bengal

One of the most magical moments of my childhood journeys was watching the sun set over the Bay of Bengal in Patuakhali. As the day drew to a close, the sky would transform into a canvas of colors — hues of orange, pink, and purple blending seamlessly into each other. The sun, a blazing orb of fire, would slowly dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the water.

There was something almost spiritual about those sunsets. The waves, gently lapping against the side of the boat, seemed to whisper secrets of the deep, while the sky above, painted in shades of twilight, promised the calm of the night. We would sit in silence, mesmerized by the beauty of it all, feeling both insignificant and infinitely connected to the universe.

The Blue Peaks of the Khasi Hills: A Distant Dream

One of the most enchanting sights during my travels was catching a glimpse of the blue peaks of the Khasi Hills while cruising along the river Khoai in Balla, Sylhet. The hills, shrouded in mist and mystery, appeared as a distant dream — their blue silhouettes rising gently against the sky. The river Khoai, with its narrow, winding course, offered a perfect vantage point to admire the grandeur of the Khasi Hills.

We would often stop our boat and just gaze at the hills in the distance, imagining what lay beyond them. The Khasi Hills were like a gateway to another world, a world where nature reigned supreme and time seemed to slow down. Even as a child, I felt a deep sense of longing and curiosity to explore those hills, to uncover the secrets they held.

Reflections on a Bygone Era

Today, as I look back on those journeys, I realize how fortunate I was to have experienced Bangladesh in its pristine, untouched form. The rivers, lakes, and forests were more than just geographical features; they were characters in the story of my childhood,

shaping my understanding of the world and my place in it.

Traveling through rural and riverine Bangladesh by steam pedal steamers, patrol boats, country boats, and speedboats was not just about getting from one place to another. It was about embarking on a journey of discovery — discovering the beauty of nature, the resilience of the people, and the timeless bond between the land and its inhabitants.

These memories, etched in my heart, serve as a reminder of a time when life was simpler, when the rhythm of the river set the pace of our lives, and when every journey held the promise of an unforgettable adventure.