Bamboo and thunder

We enjoyed watching Bangladesh for hours. It was bamboo, lightening and thunder, rain and storm, ducks flying over rice fields, cocoanut palms and mangoes, together in a mad dervish dance. Waiting for the train, the crowd stayed under banyan trees. When it arrived, they eagerly scrambled in. During market days, some carried bundles of hay, some baskets, some sacks, going or coming from it in the silent noon. It was a stream of human activity at the rhythm of a Raga (a mode of classical music appropriate to the early dawn).

Our bags left behind in Dhaka, our clothes daily got more and more intolerable disreputable. Apart from this, we had a good time on the train. Our fellow passengers were of inexhaustible variety, a policeman, a lover of music and some families. We also carried a book and with a poet's songs in our lips, it was easier to float about the world on the crest of the rising tide. Bangladesh was subduing our hearts.