There is no evening train out of Khulna so I am forced to spend the night. As so often, the unexpected makes for the best experiences.
After a tasty late lunch at the hotel, I walk down to the river. The market is crowded and endless; the narrow street seamlessly transforms from selling fishing supplies to fabric to furniture to food.
Foreigners are not a common sight here and many people say hello. “-Your country name?” is the usual question. Some wanna talk more and invite me to sit down in their shop. It’s all very friendly, but at the same time it makes it impossible to just go for a walk. I smile, stop and talk for a bit, but then move on. If I sit down I might be trapped for hours.
There’s an opening in between some buildings and I make my way down to the river bank. It’s dusk, and the dust in the air is filtering the light, creating a beige softness to the scene. A man joins me looking out over the water. And then another. And another… Before I know it, ten people are standing next to me in a spot that was empty when I got there. Everyone wants to see what the foreigner is doing! I walk back to the street and they immediately begin leaving too. I take my camera out, turn around and snap a picture of them. Got ya!
Continuing through the market, I travel back in time: rickshaws zigzagging between children carrying bricks on their head; a man selling fish from a tray, his only illumination a wax candle stuck to the scales of one of them; a boy making paper bags out of old newspapers; a woman carrying the evening’s drinking water on her hip in a huge metal canister; men loading a truck with hundreds of sacks of salt, the one on top of the stack briefly exposing his genitals under the “lungi” every time he squats down to lift another sack; craftsmen making knives, mattresses, shoes and gravel, right there on the street.
Close to the railway station, I turn a corner to discover a makeshift roulette table. It’s lit up by two open flame torches and draws a big crowd. I watch for a while. This amuses the men, but not enough to let me take a picture.
Close to the railway station, I turn a corner to discover a makeshift roulette table. It’s lit up by two open flame torches and draws a big crowd. I watch for a while. This amuses the men, but not enough to let me take a picture.
I step closer and place a bet on “tiger”. Being in the Bengal and all, it seems appropriate. The wheel spins like crazy and I yell “Tiger! Tiger!” in excitement. A guy next to me says “-You should’ve bet on ‘bird’. It’s better.”
“Ha! Screw you!”, I’m thinking as the wheel stops on “tiger”. I get double my money and immediately bet half of the winnings. And lose it.
But I leave 10 Taka richer than I came. Of course, 10 Taka is only 13 US cents, but is still feels damn good!
But I leave 10 Taka richer than I came. Of course, 10 Taka is only 13 US cents, but is still feels damn good!
