When my mother bought a bag called ‘Adventure 50L’, I did not realize that I would be fed with adventure in this way. I went out to visit Bagalek. My backpack has been instrumental in turning an easy journey into a difficult one.

The expedition began on a hot September afternoon. We were supposed to catch a bus from Dhaka to Bandarban at 8 pm. Keeping in mind the condition of the road, we set off in two hours. The road also began to teach us the greatness of walking at the speed of a tortoise, keeping in mind its own reputation. At eight o’clock, with ten minutes left, we still have an hour to go. I gave up hope of going to Bandarban and started thinking that I would go to the zoo the next day and take pictures with the monkey. But our energetic members did not give up and fell in the middle. Tickets were cut from a nearby bus counter at 10.15am. We will leave Bandarban as soon as we go. I will leave after visiting Bagalek.

The next day we were thirteen minutes late so we missed the Ruma Bazaar bus at 8:30 in the morning. Although a little disappointed, we comforted each other and cut the bus ticket at half past nine. It was our wish to reach Bagalek in the afternoon if we could reach within 12:30 pm.

But if I had wanted to, I would have owned ten or twelve Nobel laureates and ten to twenty billion dollars. Our 9:30 bus suddenly realized that the 9:30 bus identity did not suit him. He will be known in a new way. Um, of course, yes, I know this, why it’s something known in advance. We did not like his change of identity. We had a little quarrel with the ticket holder. He told us that the bus was suffering from depression as there were not many passengers. That is his decision. Now this ten and a half bus identity is his unchanging identity. While such a determination to introduce the bus to a new identity on the face of the earth was commendable, it was not a pleasant one for us. We bought some seats with some money and offered to bring the bus on time. The ticket holder said that the decision once made in this regard will not be changed. We said, once the decision was made at half past nine, why was it changed? The ticket holder suddenly remembered the urgent work. He said goodbye with the assurance that the bus would leave at half past ten. We thought of an alternative way to go to Ruma. But due to the small number of members in the team, no alternative was considered financially favorable.

The bus left at 9.30 am with strict punctuality. I can’t describe the amazing natural beauty that could be seen through the windows of the bus running through the winding mountain path. Because the whole way I was asleep. I didn’t see anything.

After landing at Ruma Bazaar, we left Khawadawa Sere Guide and headed towards Bagalek. We were told in advance that we would have to walk a long way. Due to the rain, many parts of the road are no longer suitable for vehicular traffic. The moon car will stop long ago. I didn’t care. I have won the run. Now these mountain roads are supposed to be Hunton Dalvat.

I lay down in a long seat in the back of the moon car. The car started. I can’t describe the amazing natural beauty that was seen through the window of the moon car running through the winding mountain path. Not because of sleep, so I can’t write so well.

The distant mountains were beautiful, the path of the moon carriage was painful. At one point, the moon’s car crashed into the ditch, and the bones gnawed at each other and at the walls of the car. I was just wondering when the jump would stop and we would be able to walk to Dupa.

The wish was soon fulfilled. The moon car stopped in front of a wide muddy road. The guide said the hunt started from now on. I pressed my ‘Adventure 50L’ on my shoulder and got down with enthusiasm. I went down and stopped for a moment to see the way forward. Mud and mud as far as the eye can see. The hill also probably wants to change its identity and become known as Kardamastupa. I want to get in the jeep again. The boy of the house went back to the house. When I have to see the lake, I return home and see Dhanmondi Lake. My colleagues ’expressions weren’t too positive either. But I have come so far after spending so much money, effort and determination, now I will not visit Bagalek for fear of crossing a little muddy path? So what happens?

Is not. If the earth were a flower bed, it might be. But no matter how much the sages call it a thorny bed, to me the world is a muddy bed. If I had stayed in Dhaka, I would have been able to stand in front of a monkey at the zoo and eat nuts. I took Burmese sandals later because of the small amount of foresight. Not likely to get wet in the rain. With that little consolation in my chest, I started walking towards Bagalek.

I played a lot in the clay as a child. In the rainy season, at the end of the day, I would return home as a ghost with mud. Beirut sighed at the thought of the lost golden childhood. I really wanted to go back to that thoughtless muddy childhood. Nature is not cruel. She has fulfilled my long cherished dream today. I was moving very carefully one step at a time. After going some distance, the amount of water in the mud increased as compared to the soil. Suddenly, with one step, it disappeared to the knees. I didn’t shout ‘quick sand, quick sand’ as it was macho enough. Although I was calling on God in my heart. Hoping to return to the muddy childhood, I am blaspheming my emotional being

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When my mother bought a bag called ‘Adventure 50L’, I did not realize that I would be fed with adventure in this way. I went out to visit Bagalek. My backpack has been instrumental in turning an easy journey into a difficult one.

The expedition began on a hot September afternoon. We were supposed to catch a bus from Dhaka to Bandarban at 8 pm. Keeping in mind the condition of the road, we set off in two hours. The road also began to teach us the greatness of walking at the speed of a tortoise, keeping in mind its own reputation. At eight o’clock, with ten minutes left, we still have an hour to go. I gave up hope of going to Bandarban and started thinking that I would go to the zoo the next day and take pictures with the monkey. But our energetic members did not give up and fell in the middle. Tickets were cut from a nearby bus counter at 10.15am. We will leave Bandarban as soon as we go. I will leave after visiting Bagalek.

The next day we were thirteen minutes late so we missed the Ruma Bazaar bus at 8:30 in the morning. Although a little disappointed, we comforted each other and cut the bus ticket at half past nine. It was our wish to reach Bagalek in the afternoon if we could reach within 12:30 pm.

But if I had wanted to, I would have owned ten or twelve Nobel laureates and ten to twenty billion dollars. Our 9:30 bus suddenly realized that the 9:30 bus identity did not suit him. He will be known in a new way. Um, of course, yes, I know this, why it’s something known in advance. We did not like his change of identity. We had a little quarrel with the ticket holder. He told us that the bus was suffering from depression as there were not many passengers. That is his decision. Now this ten and a half bus identity is his unchanging identity. While such a determination to introduce the bus to a new identity on the face of the earth was commendable, it was not a pleasant one for us. We bought some seats with some money and offered to bring the bus on time. The ticket holder said that the decision once made in this regard will not be changed. We said, once the decision was made at half past nine, why was it changed? The ticket holder suddenly remembered the urgent work. He said goodbye with the assurance that the bus would leave at half past ten. We thought of an alternative way to go to Ruma. But due to the small number of members in the team, no alternative was considered financially favorable.

The bus left at 9.30 am with strict punctuality. I can’t describe the amazing natural beauty that could be seen through the windows of the bus running through the winding mountain path. Because the whole way I was asleep. I didn’t see anything.

After landing at Ruma Bazaar, we left Khawadawa Sere Guide and headed towards Bagalek. We were told in advance that we would have to walk a long way. Due to the rain, many parts of the road are no longer suitable for vehicular traffic. The moon car will stop long ago. I didn’t care. I have won the run. Now these mountain roads are supposed to be Hunton Dalvat.

I lay down in a long seat in the back of the moon car. The car started. I can’t describe the amazing natural beauty that was seen through the window of the moon car running through the winding mountain path. Not because of sleep, so I can’t write so well.

The distant mountains were beautiful, the path of the moon carriage was painful. At one point, the moon’s car crashed into the ditch, and the bones gnawed at each other and at the walls of the car. I was just wondering when the jump would stop and we would be able to walk to Dupa.

The wish was soon fulfilled. The moon car stopped in front of a wide muddy road. The guide said the hunt started from now on. I pressed my ‘Adventure 50L’ on my shoulder and got down with enthusiasm. I went down and stopped for a moment to see the way forward. Mud and mud as far as the eye can see. The hill also probably wants to change its identity and become known as Kardamastupa. I want to get in the jeep again. The boy of the house went back to the house. When I have to see the lake, I return home and see Dhanmondi Lake. My colleagues ’expressions weren’t too positive either. But I have come so far after spending so much money, effort and determination, now I will not visit Bagalek for fear of crossing a little muddy path? So what happens?

Is not. If the earth were a flower bed, it might be. But no matter how much the sages call it a thorny bed, to me the world is a muddy bed. If I had stayed in Dhaka, I would have been able to stand in front of a monkey at the zoo and eat nuts. I took Burmese sandals later because of the small amount of foresight. Not likely to get wet in the rain. With that little consolation in my chest, I started walking towards Bagalek.

I played a lot in the clay as a child. In the rainy season, at the end of the day, I would return home as a ghost with mud. Beirut sighed at the thought of the lost golden childhood. I really wanted to go back to that thoughtless muddy childhood. Nature is not cruel. She has fulfilled my long cherished dream today. I was moving very carefully one step at a time. After going some distance, the amount of water in the mud increased as compared to the soil. Suddenly, with one step, it disappeared to the knees. I didn’t shout ‘quick sand, quick sand’ as it was macho enough. Although I was calling on God in my heart. Hoping to return to the muddy childhood, I am blaspheming my emotional being…

The humanized garbage there is totally inappropriate. So wherever you go, if you don’t have a specific place to dump your garbage, wait until you find a suitable place.