Rediscovering the Simple Joys of Life in a Village Market

Hello dear friends,
I hope you all are doing well and spending a beautiful life with your loved ones. I wish you all happiness and peace.

Last Wednesday night, I left the busy city of Dhaka and headed to my village. It had been several months since my last visit, and the feeling of returning home was truly special. Away from the noise, dust, and chaos of the city, the calmness of the countryside felt like a breath of fresh air. Although winter hasn’t yet arrived in the city, I could sense its presence in the village. The early morning fog, dew-covered grass, and cool breeze whispered that winter was on its way.

On Thursday morning, I went for a walk through the light mist and found myself at the traditional village market. This market is located beside the Titas River—more than just a place for buying and selling goods, it’s a living part of rural heritage. In the middle of the market stands a huge old banyan tree, under whose shade people still gather. I heard that this market has been held around that tree since the British era. Though time has changed almost everything, the banyan tree still stands tall as a silent witness to history.

As I entered the market, my eyes were greeted by piles of colorful vegetables—tomatoes, cauliflowers, carrots, beans, eggplants, gourds, pumpkins—all so fresh and vibrant. The smell of earth seemed to blend with the freshness of the produce. Unlike the vegetables sold in the city, these were full of natural color and aroma. The sellers were cheerful, calling out to customers, while buyers were busy picking their daily essentials. The entire scene was full of energy and life—a perfect picture of rural simplicity.

Right next to the vegetable section was the fish market. Freshly caught fish from the river shimmered in large aluminum bowls—boal, rui, katla, shing, magur, tengra, and many more varieties. The sellers were shouting prices while buyers carefully inspected the fish. Compared to the frozen fish in city supermarkets, these river fish had a liveliness that no modern setup could replicate. I also bought a few types of fish and some vegetables. But more than the shopping itself, it was the experience that filled my heart with joy.

Visiting a village market is not just about buying goods—it’s about reconnecting with one’s roots. Sitting under the banyan tree with a cup of tea in hand, I felt a deep sense of peace. I realized that the essence of happiness lies in these simple, ordinary moments—fresh air, smiling faces, the smell of fresh vegetables, and the sound of life all around.

As I walked back home, I couldn’t help but think how, despite the passage of time, the spirit of the village market remains unchanged. People still greet one another warmly, bargain with laughter, and share stories as they shop. This simple togetherness is what makes the village so special, so close to the heart.

After such a long time, visiting the market felt truly refreshing. Escaping from the artificial routine of city life, I found peace in the simplicity of rural living. The smell of the soil, the flow of the river, and the smiles of humble people reminded me of something important—that returning to the village is not just going home, it’s returning to oneself.