Dinajpur & Panchagarh, July 2006

To the Bordertowns

28-29 July 2006

After a long journey, I reached Dinajpur before 6:00 on the 28th. The town was yet to wake up. I boarded a hotel (not too cozy though) just to get freshened up and to catch a bit of sleep after a long night journey.


Dinajpur town at 6:00AM (Maldahapatti)

A couple of hours' sleep gave me enough energy to leave the bed and fetch life. It was around nine in the morning when I finished my breakfast at a nearby restaurant and boarded a rickshaw. The destination was Ramsagar National Park. The way to Ramsagar wasn't too short, but enjoyed it to the full. The picturesque road regularly encouraged me to have a pause, but I had to keep time in mind.




The picturesque journey to Ramsagar...........

After around 45 minutes' I reached the entrance to the Park; it was not even 10:00AM. The place looked cool and calm. Visitors do come here regularly, but a weekend morning wasn't the one everyone looks for. The lovely greenery of the Park gave me the nice little break that I had been looking for. It was truly refreshing.


Morning at Ramsagar National Park.............

The main attraction of the Park is its massive water tank. This is probably the biggest man-made water tank in Bangladesh. Its dimensions tell a story. 1133 yards x 400 yards. It was dug by Raja Ramnath during 1750-1755A.D. to benefit the local inhabitants, who had suffered a lot because of lack of drinking water.








The massive man-made water tank of Ramsagar............

There was a small covered resting place where refreshments were being sold. Spent some time there to get refreshed. The tank is quite imposing indeed. I kept the rickshaw with me to reach the other end, which was more than a kilometre away. I took my time at the other end to enjoy the view and to try to do some photography. The tank was just too big for my photography gears!

Anyway, after more than a hour's stay at the Ramsagar National Park, I left the area for Kantaji's Palace. There's a famous temple at Kantanagar, some distance from Dinajpur, but this palace is not that one. This is not too far out of Dinajpur town. So, another picturesque rickshaw journey followed. After another hour's journey I reached Kantaji's Palace. It was around noon.






Some parts of Kantaji's Palace are still in good shape.......






While some other parts are counting days.............

There was a nice temple inside the main gate of the palace, which was also in good shape. It good condition was ensured by the regular maintenance of the temple by the worshipers, who regularly visit here.


The small, but beautiful temple at Kantaji's Palace........




The main entrance.........

The area now houses many people. The palace complex or the ruins were not protected at all. There was an orphanage nearby. Children's faces reminded us of the possibility of restoration and hope.




The future............

There are several big water tanks in the area. They have some cozy names too! A small boy from the Temple at Kantaji's Palace guided me through the water tanks.


The Dukhsagar (Sea of Sorrows)


The Sukhsagar (Sea of Happiness) is the biggest tank in the area.......

By around 1:00 PM I was finished with my journey around Kantaji's Palace and adjacent areas. I took the same rickshaw that I had left waiting at the Palace and returned to the hotel. I had more plans for the day, so had little time to rest. I had a quick lunch and cut down my rest. Straightaway I went for the bus station. Destination Kantanagar Temple. I was on board the bus right around quarter past three.

The bus dropped me near the Dhaepa River by around quarter to three in the afternoon. It was a warm day and even though the sun was tilting, it was still quite strong. The sun was shining on the Dhaepa. The small river had to be crossed to reach Kantanagar Temple. The river had one boat-ferry. People were standing on the boat; the shallowness of the river forced the boat to stop some distance away from the other shore. So, I had to wade my way home.


Ferry on the Dhaepa River.........


Leaving my footprint on the sandy banks of the Dhaepa.........


The path to Kantanagar Temple.........

After around 10 minutes' walking through village roads, I was in front of the walls surrounding Kantanagar Temple. The temple is well maintained and well publicised. Its a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Regular worship is also performed here, so, there's no shortage of maintenance. The beautiful terracotta decorating the temple are mostly in good condition. The temple was built between 1704 and 1752 A.D.


Kantanagar Temple............






Terracotta..........



By around 5:00PM, I was done with my visit at the temple. I came back same way I went in. Crossed the river and boarded another bus to Dinajpur. Checked out of hotel in a haste and went to catch a bus to Panchagarh. I was entering the second part of my tour. But my luck ran out. it was already past 6:30PM and the last direct bus to Panchagarh had already left Dinajpur. I had little option but to board a local bus.

Never, even in my wildest dreams, had I realised that a journey as short as this one (around 50km) would be that painful. I boarded the bus at half past six in the evening and the bus dropped me at Panchagarh half past ten at night!! Four hours for this distance! We stopped at every possible point and took on every possible being that was interested to travel on wheels! We paused at Thakurgaon for almost an eternity! The sultry heat and the stench made me tired and frustrated. When I reached Panchagarh, I found heaven in a hotel room. Took as much food as I could and went straight to bed. I had more hectic plans for the next day; so, needed some sound sleep.

29 July morning. I was up quickly and had my breakfast in a rush. By quarter past nine, I was on the bus to Tetulia, the northernmost town in Bangladesh. Once at Tetulia, I saw a bus leaving the town for Banglabandha, the northernmost point on our country's map. That bus service wasn't the most frequent of all. If you miss one, you have to wait a bit for the next one. So, I wasted no time and boarded the bus. I left my sight-seeing at Tetulia for the return journey.


Tea plantation of Panchagarh..........

By around 11:30AM, I reached Banglabandha. Another warm day; so, I had some refreshment available on the spot. Hired a rickshaw van and headed for the border check post. Didn't have too difficulty convincing the BDR people that I would just go to the last point to do some photography. But they warned me repeatedly not to cross the bamboo roadblock. It was around quarter to noon when I was photographing at the zero point.




End of the line..........

I came back from Banglabandha at the next opportunity. Didn't have to wait too long though. It was an off season as far as visitors were concerned. So, the transport service was a bit infrequent. But it was good enough for me considering the amount of journey I've had so far.

Anyway, I was back to Tetulia by around quarter past one in the afternoon. A rickshaw-puller approached me and convinced me that he could help me see the whole place around. I took the bait and didn't have to repent. He took me to a government rest house by the Mahananda. This was like an oasis in the middle of a warm planet. The trees there danced with the fine breeze and made a beautiful noise. The Mahananda was flowing calmly and the other side of the river gave a glimpse at the border security installations in India.


The Mahananda...........

I took some more time through the narrow, but green streets of Tetulia. The rickshaw-puller was knowledgeable enough to guide me throughout the journey. I saw the tea plantations and the stone quarries. Big holes were dug up to acquire stones from right underneath the surface.


Stone quarry.........


The ride.........

I boarded a return bus to Panchagarh by around 3:00PM. I was back to my Panchagarh hotel room by around 4:30PM. I was tired as hell, but couldn't miss a sunset photoshoot from the bridge across the River Korotoa. The bridge was walking distance away from my hotel. I went there by around 6:00 and went on shooting up to almost 7:00. Right at that moment, I remembered that I had my bus waiting for me.

I jumped into the bus with all my journey experience of the northernmost area in the country. My tired body only found a seat, and the heavens broke down! It started to rain. It was heavy. I couldn't that God more. During my whole stay it didn't rain a drop. It was warm, but the lack of rain helped me to get to all the places that I had desired. Now the rain almost came in as if they didn't want me leave! I didn't have to prepare for a long journey. I just went to sleep.

Next morning I was back to Dhaka; back to the hectic life. The bordertowns still beckoned me when I went to work.

Karaitoli BOP, Haluaghat, Mymensingh, February 2002

A Hill Too Far
Journey to the place called Karaitoli, February 15 2002.

There we started. The destination was Mymensing. The Garo Hills. The plan was that we would take train to reach Mymensingh and then take a bus to get to our ultimate destination. When we all gathered, we found that we were nine people in total. We didn't know the exact number of participants until the last moment because of the uncertainty surrounding the participation of some of us. The guys all looked upbeat and looked armed and ready for the kill. Not too many impedimenta with us, and that's what is natural for young people like us. I took nothing more than my sweater. Well, that's something that some of us didn't think necessary, and they were soon to find out how wrong they were.

The gathering place was Kamalapur Railway Station. The massive rush of people there convinced us that the rush of home-going people might make it difficult to get tickets, even though we were fairly confident that it wouldn't be too difficult to get tickets for Mymensingh, which is not that far from the city. We ultimately got the tickets, but after some waiting at the counter. The 9:10 AM train was there waiting and it was already 9:08. The punctuality of Bangladesh Railway proved their affection for us. They didn't start before 9:35. The rush made us buy standing tickets, and there we decided to enjoy it as much as possible just standing there. There we found our desired spot at the end of the compartment and although cramped to the extreme, it served our purpose. The journey began with a vague idea about the time it might take to reach Mymensingh. The passengers travelling more than once were indicating to a 2 1/2 to 3 hour journey. The slow speed of the train, along with its habit of utilising most of the important stoppages on the way, gave an indication that it may take even longer than that.

The standing journey couldn't ruin our day. We took a guitar, and we were prepared to sing all the way. So, there we started our agitation. Our voices kept the people in the cabin awake and I'm sure we were not far from entertaining the passengers. And we were spending our time in the best possible way as such. The boredom of such a journey couldn't reach us. The time passed by in the twinkling of an eye. We didn't notice when it was 12:15 PM until we reached Mymensingh.

Our hungry stomachs were demanding some investments of any kind and our bodies demanded to be relieved of the dirt, which engulfed us like a thick quilt. A nearby small restaurant gave us relief. The refreshing water and some snacks gave us a new life. These gave us the spirit to start at once for our next destination. Four rickshaws led us to the bus stand. One of these rickshaws disappeared with two of our friends for a while, so we had to postpone our bus journey for about half an hour. We had some coconuts and bananas and jumped into a bus. It was already past 1:00 PM. The bus proved efficient in stopping at every possible place on the way. We had some heated conversation with the helper too. We all slept on the bus for an hour or so; but the road was nowhere to end. The sceneries were all too Bangladeshi. There were the green fields declaring the background of our flag and the palm trees looked like guarding the fields like scarecrows. The landscape was pockmarked with ditches and canal every here and there. Some of our friends discovered pleasure in sitting on the rooftop. Those of us inside the bus were trying to recognise the guys on top from their silhouettes on the rapidly moving bushy roadside. After enjoying the sceneries for half an hour, by about 3:15 PM we arrived at a dead end--Haluaghat. That's as far as buses go. But the Garo Hills were nowhere to be seen. There were a few rickshaws offering take us there and back again in two hours. But we thought two hours were a little too much for us. We started to look for an alternative way.

And there it came. A truck was romping forward with its cargo space empty. We requested them to take us to our destination; they agreed. And thus began another chapter--a journey by truck. During the breezy journey, we were very busy avoiding branches of trees that were lashing on the truck. The heave and sway of the vehicle and the plume of dust coming the dirt-road forced us to spend most of our time standing. But still, it was fun; a very different sort of fun. Our outfit, which got dirty from the train journey, were further serviced by this journey, and we all were looking at one another to find out who had the distinction of having the dirtiest clothes. We were probably lucky to avoid any significant accident as a result of the branches as they were going past us at the speed of our fast vehicle.

We didn't have to wait too long to find out that we were approaching a high mountain range. The bluish mountain seemed quite far, and we didn't feel confident at all that we would be able to reach those hills as we knew it very well that we were approaching the international boundary. However, we decided to go as far as we can; at least, let's give it a try. We stopped at a BDR camp--the Karaitoli Company HQ. It looked more like an earthen fort than a camp. The fort had battle stations at the corners, and those gave us the first notion that the border is very near. The trucks passing through this road are all coal-trucks. They carry imported Indian coal. The Indian trucks dump the coal inside Bangladesh territory and our trucks carry those inside. We were fortunate to find that our truck was not coal-dirty. We were able to sit and even lie in the cargo bay.

We soon reached the end-point of our journey. We assumed that when we saw all the coal-dumps and busy flow of trucks. The seemingly centurion Indian trucks received our crudest possible comments. And their country of origin was bound to get even hasher words from us pretty soon. We were horrified to find that we were unable to reach the Garo Hills because the mountain range happens to be on the Indian side! So much effort spent on such an illusory target! What a shock! We went through the textbooks and found the name of the Garo Hills in the Bangladesh section. There was no mention of these horrible truths. There was no mention that you can only see the Garo Hills if you go to Mymensingh, but to climb them, you have to enter India. Even the base of the mountain lies some distance inside Indian Territory. This shock was to haunt us for the rest of our tour.

By the by, we decided to go as far as we could and approached a BDR patrol. The two guardians, Amol and Shahjahan, were pretty much surprised to find us there. They informed us that we were standing at the edge of the 'no man's land'. And that if we had decided go a little further without their notice that could have caused some real trouble. The guards were not too critical of our arrival though, they appreciated our wisdom of consulting them rather than taking matters in our own hands. We had some interesting conversation in which they expressed their distrust of the Indians, and we mostly listened to their experiences. Our guitar was spotted by one of them and they requested us to let them hear a song. One of our friends played the lead singer and thus we became probably the first to sing on the extreme point of our national authority. And that was pleasing. The songs pleased them no doubt. These isolated and hard-working souls definitely found some refreshment to wet their rather dry and arid life. They soon showed their gratefulness by stating that they were responsible for our security and they took interest in showing us the surrounding areas. One of them acted as our guide and we were led to a very nice water-body with very pure-looking water. All of my friends except me jumped into the very shallow water and there were splashes all around. My mind tried to follow them but some thoughts of reality kept me tied to the shore. After the bath, we gave farewell to the BDR people and took the dirt-road again to reach the coal-dumps which were a few hundred yards inside our border. The dirt-road was probably too black to be called a dirt-road; it was more like a coal-road.

We decided to have our very late lunch at a makeshift hotel there at the dump. The meal wasn't extraordinary but the situation made it look anything but ordinary. The rice, with cooked boiled eggs, and pulses made our heart breathe a sight of satisfaction. We could hardly move our bodies after the heavy and satisfying meal.

There was the most surprising sight of some young fellows as we were leaving the two BDR people. The BDR men were surprised to see nine of us, but there were at least thirty of the newly arrived party. The way of journey convinced us that none could come here the way we came. These people definitely came here in a different way. And it wasn't too long before we discovered that they were students of Islamic History at Dhaka University and they came here using their own transport. We didn't feel it would be a sin to take a peek at the more attractive ones in that herd.

It was time to leave. And we began to look for a way similar to the one we took in the inward trip. We didn't have to wait for long as a truck loaded with coal was preparing to leave and their driver agreed to take us to Haluaghat at least. We jumped onto the tarpaulin-covered truck and took the dirt-road. It was already becoming dark, and we were worried about the tree-leaves that were likely to smash us on the way. We were lucky to reach the main road before dark and thus were free from that worry. The cool air was hitting us like a thousand ice-coated knives. There were a few friends among us who didn't feel it necessary to wear a lot of warm clothing when we left Dhaka. These guys were now realising their mistakes. The truck was speeding along and it was just a matter of time before reached Haluaghat. But all on a sudden the truck stopped and the driver said that they wouldn't leave before eleven at night. It was hard for us understand the real reason behind their stoppage. There was now no other way for us but to disembark and take a few rickshaws to reach Haluaghat, which wasn't too far. It was a few minutes before we reached the main bus station at Haluaghat. It was beyond six in the evening. But the earliest bus wouldn't leave Haluaghat for Mymensingh before quarter past seven. So, we again began to look for an alternative.

We were looking for the same way that brought us to Haluaghat. The people at the bus-stand were trying to prevent any truck stopping in front of their base as those trucks were taking away their customers. We moved a few yards from the bus-stand and began to waive at the trucks that were passing by. A few vehicles speeded past us without giving any damn to our request. But our idea was not to disappoint us. A truck at last stopped and we prepared to board it. But these people were unlike the others that took us to Karaitoli or brought us back from there. These guys began to demand travel fees. For nine of us, we offered ninety, but the bargain didn't stop until he helper was convinced that we would pay at least that amount. It was quite peculiar for these people to bargain over these matters since whatever they get from us, it was extra income for them. Too much lust kept them going with the bargaining.

Whatever, we were moving again. This time the destination was Mymensingh. The sky was already dark. The chilling wind didn't prevent us from enjoying the fantastic beauty of the night sky. The innumerable stars kept us staring at the sky all the way. Our tired bodies took refuge on the tarpaulin that covered the coal beneath us. The stars were twinkling through the canopy of trees. The headlight of the vehicle made the tree-leaves float over the sky like green clouds. It was quite a sight. Living in Dhaka city we are not accustomed to watching such beauties of the night sky. The one-and-half-hour journey was something to remember, just like the whole journey itself.

We reached Mymensingh bus-stand by about quarter past eight. And it wasn't a moment before we found a bus leaving for Dhaka. We had some snacks and tea at a roadside shanty hotel and jumped into the bus. When the bus began to roll, it was about half past eight. More than twelve hours have passed since we left our homes. We began to calculate the gains of the journey. We also felt pity about the friends who couldn't accompany us during this journey. But these thoughts couldn't go for long as our tired souls sought some rest. We quickly fell asleep, and passed this rather uneventful path without enjoying anything new. The lust of the truck-driver, who brought us from Haluaghat, was reflected in the bus-driver also. This so-called inter-city bus was stopping at every place to earn a few more. This attitude of theirs gave rise to some dissent in the minds of the passengers. And there were some heated outbursts.

By the by, the slow journey ended at Mohakhali, Dhaka. It was past eleven and we were quite annoyed over the attitude of the bus-driver, who made us late. There was smile in the face of all of us as we bade farewell to one another. We went our separate ways, mostly, from there; although there was some travelling together for some of us. We spent the rest of the way home talking about the success of the journey and again felt pity for those who missed such a memorable journey. It really was a journey to remember.