Pirojpur | The Furious Panda

February 12, 2011December 5, 2017 by Red

Day 2 – A warrior-saints legacy – The historic mosque city of Bagerhat

Date of log: 04 Feb 2011, 10pm
Location: In a room in the Hotel Singapore, Mongla, Bangladesh

Yes, the name of the hotel I’m spending the night in is Hotel Singapore, though the hotel itself doesn’t do Singapore much justice. It is a simple affair, basic rooms with stained walls, and priced at 150 taka you cant really complain. Located in Mongla, the set-off point for my day long trip to the Sundarbans tomorrow.

Started off the day on the Rocket, which reached Hularhat station, located in Pirojpur district at around 930 am in the morning. It was a good nights rest in the crew’s cabin, despite being a little cold. The early morning mist obscured both banks of the river, but through the mist I still could see the fishermen out in their little sampan like boats for the days catch. The locals rate freshwater fish more highly than the sea-water variety.

So there’s a local guy, Jasim on the boat, who’s an aircraft engineer. He approaches me and strikes up a conversation. He’s going back over the weekend to see his family, and invites me to visit him. I politely decline (remember i have 5 days to blitz through everything). He speaks good English, and asks me where I am going. We talk for a little while, during which time I learn a little bit more about Bangladesh, the poverty, the aspirations of a nation.He also tells me to avoid any food that anyone offers me.

In the course of the next few days, i would meet many a local who shows great interest in the foreigner. Most of them start to surround me and gawk, each time i stand around in any public place for a period of time. It’s worse for the ang mohs, since I’m still Asian. A smile normally gets a return smile, and they leave me alone. There’s a few of the educated types, who speak English, and would love nothing better than to get to know the foreigner, asking him which country he comes from, his job, his marital status and purpose of visit. They are genuinely interested and very helpful too, there is usually one who comes up to sit next to me in the bus, for example, and offers directions. Without their help, I would probably take much longer to find my way around. Most of them will offer their emails, phone numbers and one even offered me his passport photo. So Alim, Jassim, Talat Mahmud, Halim Nazrul and M.A.Matin, thank you for your help in advance, sorry i gave out my standard alternate email that I never bother to check, and if you’re reading this, do drop me a comment or message. And as per what you say, “Wish you better future & God bless you. Thank you.”

Getting off the Rocket to the Bangladesh countryside proved to be an experience in itself. Outside of the city, I was lost and it would be hard to find anyone who understood me. Luckily Jasim was there, we took a Tempo, which is something like a shared Tuk tuk, and while he got off halfway, he made sure that the driver brought me to the Pirojpur bus stop. Oh and he paid for my ride as well.

The country buses. Ran down yet functional, the idea is to squeeze in as many as possible. Women sit up front, near the driver, and foreign tourists like me get placed somewhere at the front, where it’s “safer”. There’s always the driver, and then there’s the conductor, who’s job is to collect the fares from the passengers. His job is also to lean out the door and call out the destination. However, his third function is the most important. He acts as the side mirror for the bus driver. He goes “CLEAR! CLEAR!” or at least something like that, and makes sure the bus doesn’t get into an accident. His function is even more critical on my bus, since the side mirror is busted!

So, buses travel on roads that are too narrow. There’s only one lane for each direction, and scarcely any road shoulder. When a bus tries to overtake, it definitely needs to cut into the oncoming lane. And how they do it! With pompous horning, the driver will annoy the vehicle in front till they slow down, the driver will then swerve out and back in, all the while with heavy traffic coming from the opposite direction. It was like a case of “Chicken”, with the buses always coming out tops because the oncoming CNGs won’t stand a chance. Someone here really needs to consider wider roads, at least provide an additional half lane for vehicles to shift to the left to allow another to overtake.

I reached Bagerhat at noon, and took a moment to get my bearings. Lunch was rice, or “bhat” and fried egg curry, fish in curry. All good. Then one of the rickshaw wallahs pulled up near me and asked me my destination. I arranged a price with him to Bagerhat’s ruins (50 taka). This fellow was to be the bane of my day. I initially wanted a one way trip, but he insisted on waiting for me, so I let him. The agreed return trip was 100 taka, but he argued for 200 taka at the end of the whole ride, citing waiting time and extras. I was pretty pissed and refused to give in, some other locals joined the commotion we create and went “give him the money, he’s a poor man” etc. In the end I just gave him the money. No point spoiling the rest of my stay for 2 SGD. Moral of the story: Don’t take the these rickshaw-wallahs, cab drivers, whatever, that come up to you. Always pick your own. Heck, actually, I already knew that, but I didn’t do what i preached.

Ok. Let’s go on to the main event for today, Bagerhat’s historic mosque city is a group of 15th century structures with the same architecture, founded during the pre-Mughal period by a warrior-saint Khan Jahan. Also known as ‘Khalifatabad’, it is one of three in Bangladesh designated by UNESCO as a world heritage site. The main structures of note are the Shait Gumbad Mosque, also known as the 60 domed mosque, on account of the (actually more than) 60 domes found on the roof and the Khan Jahan’s mausoleum. Along with these two structures are a score of various mosques in various states of (dis)repair. Tangled in the undergrowth, some are more well preserved than others, but the defining characteristic for me are the number of domes, ranging from 1 to the 60 on .Besides the Shait Gumbad Mosque, and it’s surrounding smaller mosques, there is also the tomb of Khan Jahan, a single domed structure that serves as a pilgrimage site for locals to pay their respects to an important man in Bangladeshi history. More information about the Mosque City of Bagerhat can be found on http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/321

It was a friday afternoon, which here in Bangladesh meant that it was a public holiday. The more pious amongst the locals were doing their afternoon friday prayers at the Shait Gumbad mosque. The rest, and the Hindus, were there for a picnic. Besides the mosques and multi-domed structures, the heritage site was also known for its dighis or ponds, possibly for irrigation, created by the multi-talented Shah Jahan when he conquered this area. The atmosphere was very family friendly, walking around the edges of the pond (actually pond is an understatement, the dighis were huge, 200 to 300m long rectangular ponds. There’s one section near the Khan Jahan tomb where people are washing in the pond to absolve themselves of sin. As usual, I was the subject of attention, with everyone “you are from Singapore? Can i take your picture?” being very interested in the foreign traveller who goes to Bangladesh as a tourist.

Some more shots of the interior of Shait Gumbad Mosque.

On the way back to Bagerhat town by rickshaw, we detoured to what seemed to me a temple. Since my rickshaw wallah spoke no English, and the temple was devoid of any signs that I could understand, I was left to guess as to the purpose and origin of the temple. It’s pretty well kept and there’s a boy (who again doesn’t speak English) who i think is the groundskeeper or his son. He let me look around and take pictures. I think based on the symbols that I saw, it would seem that it is a combination of different faiths. In the middle is the Hindu Aum, then clockwise is the Muslim star and crescent, the Christian cross, the Jewish star of David, what I think looks like the Siokh Khanda symbol, the Buddhist Dharma wheel and the Swastika, which is probably Jainism. I initially thought that it could be a Baha’i temple, but then it is missing the nine pointed star, and I can’t find Taoism and Shinto anywhere. Also, in the photo, the Aum is the central symbol, so that might mean something.

From Bagerhat, I took the bus to the port town of Mongla, which is barely 5km away from The Sundarbans, the largest mangrove forest in the world, and my next destination. The bus to Mongla was a 3 hour bus ride which meant i arrived in Mongla late in the evening at around 8pm. I could not really fathom why the bus ride took 3 hours, since in my guide book it was supposed to be a 1hour plus ride.

Mongla. Met a Mr Ferdaus who is the front desk manager of the Government owned Pashtur hotel. Mahmud from back in Dhaka had linked us up and he would help me with the arrangements for tomorrows’s Sundarban trip. Rooms at the Pashtur was 900 taka, but normal rooms were full, only A/C rooms (1600 taka) were available. I was already half-shivering and didn’t need A/C so i did the 2 taka boat ride (will move when they get 20 people, or you can pay for the entire boat 40 taka to move you across, 40 taka is less than 1 SGD) across the river, to find, surprise surprise: Hotel Singapore.

Hotel Singapore is a 150 taka (i think) basic accomodations with stained walls, a simple bed and toilet set up. It is clean though, and quite sufficient for the traveler who just needs a place to plop down his bag and stay the night. I went out to look for some dinner, this Bangla freshwater fish curry dish is starting to grow on me, before going back to my room for an early night. Tomorrow: An entire day out on boat along the canals of the Sundarbans.

Original post: http://furiouspanda.blogspot.com
More photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/morphred/

February 8, 2011December 5, 2017 by Red

Day 1 – An open assault on the senses in Dhaka –> sights, smells, and sounds.

Date of log: 03 Feb 2011, 8pm
Location: In the crew’s cabin of the Rocket, obtained after much haggling, en route to Hularhat

I lie in my comfy white linen bed, rightly meant for a crew member aboard the 1950s paddle steamer “Mahsud”, one of 4 owned by the Bangladesh Inland Waterway Transport Corporation (BIWTC), collectively known as the “Rocket” writing this entry. There were no more 1st class or 2nd class tickets for sale, which meant a free for all deck class rush for sleeping space with the locals. But as always, there was a way out. The common solution is to offer the foreign tourist the cabin crew’s room, and charge him a handsome premium for it. By our standards though, the 800 taka i paid (excluding the 120 taka deck class ticket) for the privacy, clean sheets and most importantly, a power outlet to recharge all my flashpacking toys, was a very fair price.

The day started with me taking one of the overpriced airport taxis (700 taka to Gulshan 1). I was to meet Mahmud, the local contact I had been communicating with, prior to this trip. He is described in the Lonely Planet as the patron saint of travelers in Bangladesh, going out of his way to ensure first time budget travelers are able to find their way around when they step foot into Dhaka. So Mahmud told me to meet him in the lobby of Hotel Washington, located near Gulshan circle 1, the upscale suburb of Dhaka where all the embassies are located. He does this helping out travelers thing in his spare time, and for this instance with me, it was still a working day. And so, after breakfast (prata!), he led me to his office, where he has a very respectable day job as a manager. He went through roughly my itinerary and advised me to get a ticket at BIWTC’s office in Motijheel area before doing any sightseeing in Dhaka, since I needed to be out on the Rocket to Hularhat on the same evening. Mahmud also helped me coordinate to meet a man from Entree Tours, with whom I made the advance payment for my daylong trip in the Sundarbans, planned for the 5th Feb. Oh, and I went from breakfast to Mahmud’s office by way of a rickshaw, pulled by the rickshaw-wallah.

I traveled to the BIWTC office on a CNG. So named for the fuel source they run on, the CNGs are actually tuk-tuks commonly found elsewhere in Asia. The Bangladeshi version however has the passenger fully enclosed in a cage. The trip price was intially agreed upon at 100 taka. The CNGs have meters, though the drivers loathe using them, often raising the ire of the local police in the process. Saying that, my driver had his meter running, possibly to fool any cop who checks on his ride. Hence began my first introduction to Dhaka road, and the jams. My 10 km ride took almost an hour, and I don’t think my bearded driver expected the jam, by the end of the ride, my meter actually exceeded the 100 taka we agreed upon! I paid him the meter price and a tip (120 taka in all). Inside the cage, I looked out and took various photos, as well as shots of my driver doing his best impression of spiderman hanging on to the cage walls. Yes, we had that much time to kill while sitting in the jam.

I do ask myself however, how do traffic cultures in cities develop? For instance, here in Dhaka, everyone horns, and slots their vehicles into little nooks and each others lanes. Elsewhere, the former is absent, no one horns, even though they do the same dance on the roads. Vehicles here run the gamut: CNGs, rickshaws, cars, trucks, all. Yet on long stretches of road jams, only scores of rickshaws are seen lined in series, obidiently waiting for the one up front to move forward.

I finally hit the BIWTC office one full hour later. And to my dismay, the officer in charge says that the weekend is coming, so all the 1st and 2nd class tickets were full. He recommends that I go down the boat pier early, around 5pm to get a deck class ticket, and see if I can trade for a crew members’ room, which is the arrangement they normally make for pesky foreigners (like me) who makes last minute bookings and who would probably wither and die should they be made to stay under deck class conditions.

I lamented my situation to P, a 60 year young englishman I met in the BIWTC. He is booking a Rocket ticket for the coming Monday (now why can’t all foreigners be like this man, booking in advance). P tells me that he has been in Bangladesh for the past two weeks, mainly in the Chittagong region, and I am the first non Bangla or Indian he has met in two weeks. So i guess I shouldnt be expecting to meet any other travelers soon. I decided to accompany P, since we were both the doing Old Dhaka part of the city, for the rest of the day. Actually, I accompanied P because he had more of a plan than I did. P planned in detail where exactly he wanted to go and what he wanted to see, a full 8 months ago. Me, I only had a gist of where to go, thought of yesterday on the plane and was fully prepared to get lost in the streets. =)

And so, we took a rickshaw to the starting point of our Old Dhaka walk. This was the Sutrapur area, which passed through old colonial architecture of the early 1900s. It was an assault on the senses. Rickshaw wallahs calling on you to move off the road, the smell of dried chilli, ginger and onions making me tear and sneeze, colourful pieces of cloth neatly stacked atop each other, locals calling out to us, and eyeing us with curiosity as we stood admiring the architecture of buildings. My humble writing fails to elaborately describe the sights, sounds and smells that is Old Dhaka.

From the Sutrapur area, we headed down the the Sadarghat docks, from where we got a full view of the Buriganga River. The river teems with life. Boats of all shapes and sizes can be found. Small boats carrying passengers were being ferried across the large river to the other bank, huge Launches were moored on the banks. Everyday life goes on here, Goods are undocked, players gamble on the ground by the river, rickshaws drop their passengers at the pier. Here was also the embarkation point for the Rocket later this afternoon.

We carry on. There is just so much going on. Chapatis sizzle in the roadside shops, skull-capped old men in red beards greet you with a smile, the occasional kid eager to practise his English trails you. After a while, you get used to it and go with the flow. The sight of a jam, both vehicular and human on a four way junction doesnt bother you anymore. Even though all the vehicles are stationary, with seemingly no way to get out of the situation, the locals band together to direct each vehicle out. For us, we smile, step over bicycle front tires, swing around CNGs and hop across vehicle cargo, and make our way.

Down past Islampur Street, the roads widen slightly, meaning I don’t have to fight with rickshaws for road space any longer. We were looking for the building known as Ahsan Manzil, also called the Pink Palace, so named for its pink outer facade. Built by a wealthy landowner and restored in the late 80s, it is one of the more interesting structures. It was closed on Thurdays though, so we didn’t get a closer look, beyond the steel grated fence.

The next two sights were the Armenian Church, and the Sitara Mosque, both fascinating and a tranquil contrast to the bustling cacophony of sounds outside their grounds. The former, for the well preserved structure, maintained by the caretaker of an extinct community in Dhaka, and the latter, for the slightly tacky stars painted all over the dome and walls of the mosque.

We then decided to stop (for a 60 year old, P has impressive stamina, he could go on and on, and I was trying my best to keep up) at Haji Beriyani, an eatery around the Nazira Market area, recommended by P’s Bradt guide. Between the two of us, and our LP and Bradt guides, we were able to navigate Old Dhaka pretty well, through a combination of asking locals for directions and reading the occasional shop sign whose address and road name is spelled out in English. However, we had trouble finding the Haji Beriyani eatery, going back through and fro, before realising from helpful locals that the shop was closed.Instead we headed to Al-Razzaque, crowded, so obviously a good place, with better hygiene levels than most of the roadside stalls we passed by. The chicken beriyani was excellent. Different from the usual fare back home, it is not yellow, more of the pilau type commonly found out of Singapore. The cost, a friendly 150 taka including drinks, barely 3 SGD.

I bade P farewell then, for I had to go down to Saderghat and get my Rocket ticket. Even though the river was not too far south, I headed there earlier, for the Dhaka road traffic jams were legendary, and between 4 to 7pm were the worst. I scampered on the sidewalks and slowly edged my way to the pier, roughly a half hour to travel less than 1 km. And that was fast. If I had taken a rickshaw it would probably take me till dark.

Expectedly, I could only get a deck class ticket for 120 taka. I got aboard and was promptly offered the crew’s cabin for 800 taka for a trip up to Hularhat. This was roughly the price of a 1st class ticket, with two beds in a cabin. Mine was a simple 2x2m room with just a bed and not much else, but its luxury to me. I agreed without bargaining, and i think the guy felt that he should have asked for more, and upped the price to 900 taka. When traveling, negotiate with a smile and a firm no, that normally allows you to get your way. “900 taka, nahhhh, you said 800 earlier. I agreed. If you say 900 taka, then now I will bargain for 700 taka. Yes? It’s ok? 800? Good man.” Smiling all the way.

The Rocket is a paddle steamer, those kind you read about traveling down the Mississippi River, built in the 1950s. Old, run down yet having a certain charm about it, traveling down the river in a Rocket remains on of the quintisssential things to do for a traveler in Bangladesh. There are two levels to the steamer, the lower level is the deck class, where everyone stakes their place on the floor or bench and lays down a mat. Later on, I would see them eating their meals on the floor and asleep wrapped up in blankets. It gets very cold at night this time of year. My bunk is on this level, tucked in one unobtrusive corner. Upstairs is the 1st class and 2nd class area. The first class area, I took a peek, comprises nice comfy rooms opening out to the 1st class dining area. The 2nd class area was out in the back, but both have balconies so you can look out the either shoreline. There is an upstairs deck area, out of bounds to non-1st class passengers, which I’ll probably explore tomorrow morning.

I had dinner in the 1st class dining area, got served by a waiter, 4 dishes, yellow rice, with cutlery arranged in western setting. The price, less than 4 SGD (180 taka). In the dining area, were the 1st class passengers, locals, too but well-dressed cultured types who talk about the news and politics and sports, switching between Bengali and English. It’s in stark contrast to the deck below, where everyone else were huddled in blankets to keep warm. There is probably an income disparity here in Bangladesh, where more than 50% of the population lives below the poverty line, earning less than 50 taka (1 SGD) a day. Things are improving though, at least in Dhaka. Children go to school, the infant mortality rate is dropping, birth rates under control, gender equality is on the rise. Yet as the locals tell it, there is still much to be done. Me? I had my fill, tipped the waiter, and headed back downstairs to MY blanket to keep warm.