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  • Writer's pictureVoita

3 strikes back (Bd3)

Strike one, yesterday evening

I'm bouncing around buses to confirm the price and find one that is about to depart. When the answer is five minutes, I know the bus won't move for at least another hour.

Young, well-kept dude looks at me with interest, so I approach him with my quest. His English is good enough to carry the conversation past Europe, and he's also headed for Bogura, so I tag along.

He tells me that his generation is trying to move past the old hatred of Pakistan and that he's happy to see tourists... and, despite my best efforts, pays my bus ticket.

I doze off on the bus and he hops off before I can ask his name.

hotel room details

Strike two, yesterday night

Farid, who wasn't a dream, was coming back from his filming. Somehow he is failing to film a rainy day during monsoon.

Although speaking off, yesterday seemed to be the last day, at least for now. Hopefully it stays on Mars and only comes back in the next century.

He looked up today's bus for me. The rule of thumb seems to be the every bus leaves from a different place; I'm yet to reuse a location. Almost like a little treasure hunt, where the price is a corroding metal box full of sweaty people.

Farid is cool, though. He's coming up to Bogura in his free time, between work and looking after his little daughter, so he gets a pass on missing the monsoon.

And he invited me to visit them in Dhaka. Now, that I don't intend to go back. But it's always easier to talk to people outside of a big city.

the sun is back

Third strike, today

I had a day to kill, pretty much. Wouldn't have made the bus yesterday, and wouldn't have wanted to.

So I visited Bogura's only cafe, called the Reader's cafe. Caused quite a commotion.

It's a safe haven offered to local students to study for their exams, and the owner helps them with overseas university applications.

He is hoping to get similar cafes opened in other districts too...

Reader's Cafe

and study space

I managed to put together a quick mind exercise in interconnectedness; find the result as today's bonus post.

HPMOR is officially the best-written, most interesting and mind nudging book I read since Dan Simmons' novels.

bus stand and my co-passengers (no joke)

Few more CNGs later I discovered Bogura's third bus terminal and, after a necessary time period of playing the headless chicken, a bus that'll whisk me away all the way to the seashore.

maybe, the driver is clearly Mad Max

can I go back to the bottomless Himalayan slopes?

was much safer

late dinner break

PS.: Bengalis don't know how to operate the seat levers. They push them down and let the seats play their own game of musical chairs. If you fall out of rhythm, you get smacked over your nose.

Bleedingly hilarious game to play while speeding at 45 mph through unlit countryside roads.

PPS.: Speeding bus acts as a wind tunnel. Carry a balaklava to keep ears from freezing.

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