How are you all? I hope everyone is having a good day. I am also doing well. Being well is not only necessary for ourselves, but also a happy thing for the people around us. Because when we are well, our body and mind become well. And then our life becomes happy. There are moments in life that leave an everlasting imprint on our hearts—moments when nature’s beauty and our own emotions intertwine so deeply that we are forever changed. My recent visit to Cox’s Bazar gifted me one such unforgettable experience. Sitting alone by the vast, endless sea, away from the city’s chaos and daily routines, I found a profound sense of peace and connection. This blog is a reflection of that serene afternoon—of the gentle waves, the quiet whispers of the sea, and the calm it brought to my restless mind.

In the relentless rhythm of city life, there comes a time when the soul seeks peace—far away from the dust, the chaos, and the never-ending noise. A few days ago, my heart yearned for such a pause. The clouds were heavy, the sky painted in hues of grey, and the smell of rain lingered in the air. That’s when the idea struck—let’s escapes to Mirpur Beribadh, where the mighty Turag River flows quietly, and monsoon dances in the sky above.

Leaving behind the concrete arms of Dhaka, I made my way towards Mirpur. The surroundings slowly began to change—the bustling streets gave way to greenery, narrow alleys, and the gentle hum of rural life. My heart grew lighter with every turn, and a silent excitement built up inside. And then, all at once, it opened up before me—the vast expanse of the Turag River, calm yet commanding, mysterious yet welcoming.The sky was overcast, wrapped in dark monsoon clouds. The sun peeked in and out, casting fleeting golden rays on the water. It was as if the sky was playing hide-and-seek with the earth. The river wore these reflections like a shimmering saree, changing colors with every passing cloud.The air was filled with a certain stillness. A gentle wind blew across the water, and from a distance, I could hear the echo of the evening call to prayer. Everything felt quiet, solemn, as if nature itself had taken a deep breath and paused.

Standing on the bank, I saw several boats bobbing gently in the water. We chose a medium-sized wooden boat. The boatman, a humble man with kind eyes, smiled and said, “Go a little ahead, miss—you’ll see where the river meets the sky.” His words stayed with me.As the boat began its journey, the gentle sway of the water cradled us. I felt like I was sailing through a living poem. The river’s surface was smooth, mirroring the overcast sky. The breeze carried with it the scent of rain, and the moment felt untouched—pure and magical. When we reached mid-river, I looked around and felt something shift inside me. Above me was the boundless sky, below me the calm water. I was suspended between two infinities, wrapped in the embrace of nature.I couldn’t help but try to capture the beauty around me. I took photos of everything—the rippling water, the brooding sky, the shadow of our boat, and the subtle gleam of sunlight peeking through clouds. Each photo felt like a story frozen in time.

One of my favorite moments was when the sky’s reflection met the water. The clouds, the sun, and our boat merged into a single, surreal composition. The river after the rain looked deeper, darker, and almost enchanted. The boat floated quietly, and none of us said a word. We simply watched, listened, and felt. It was as if time had slowed down. I forgot about phones, notifications, the world I had left behind. In that stillness, I found clarity. The gentle creak of the boat, the rhythmic splash of oars, and the wind in my hair—all of it etched into my memory.That silence was not empty; it was full. Full of emotions, of realizations, of a strange kind of peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

After a while, soft raindrops began to fall. The boat turned back, gliding slowly through the now-muted river. The world seemed even more magical under the drizzle. The wet breeze, the splatter of rain on the wooden surface, and the distant lights across the riverbank all created a dreamlike scene.As we neared the shore, my heart grew heavy. This river, this sky, this boat ride—it had all become a part of me. Even long after we left, I could still feel the boat rocking, still hear the wind, still see the sky reflected in the water.

My visit to Mirpur Beribadh was more than just a day trip. It was a journey inward—a silent dialogue between my soul and nature. The monsoon clouds, the drifting boat, the wide embrace of the Turag River—they all whispered truths I didn’t know I needed. This blog is not just a recollection; it’s a love letter. A letter to the river, to the sky, to a quiet rainy afternoon that held me close and reminded me what it means to truly be alive.