The bus journey (local) took only (45-50) minutes from Jessore to Arpara. When I landed from the bus It was only 8:45 a.m., a sunny winter morning of the February 2012. I was almost one hour ahead from my schedule time. I had to wait for one of my colleague to come there. So, decided to step forward, to explore Arpara Bazar area of Magura district until his presence. This bazaar was established at the very adjacent to the Fatki river. The bridge on the Fatki river was connecting the highway between Dhaka and Jessore. It was so frustrating to watch the lean flow of water in the river but it was still charming to evident the locally built Palm tree boat (Taler Donga). These kinds of boats had been used in almost every areas of Bangladesh. But this tool became scanty due to cultural shifting of our society from the water bodies.
My colleague came at 9:30 a.m. and we started for “Naghosha Nabapolli” village by van. We were there to brief some secondary school teachers about the positive impacts of Books reading programme among the students and overall in our society. While Tanvir (Colleague) was busy with delivering his speech and other official task, I came out from the school premises and got a beautifully flourished Cotton (Simul) tree with chirping birds and took some snaps.
After finishing our job in the “Singair” village (Last one for the day), we were our return way to Arpara bazaar. From the van, we saw a vast water body to our left and there were herons plying on the green fields. At that moment, I was nurturing a plan but also confused “whether should I stop here to explore the greenery and remotest bill or should I go with Tanvir? Because, It seems very odd to leave him alone as well as to ask him to stay with me to have a ride towards the bill.” But swallowing the discomfort, I offered him to going and leaving me there. Surprisingly, he refused and told me “Ashif vai, It is not good to enjoy only in yourself. I also wish to stay with you.” We started walking straight to the bill by stumping the mud with bare feet. We were walking through the rice field and muds were touching our knees too. We came to know that the bill is locally named as “Chamrar Bill”. As much we were forwarding, the herons were continuously changing their position and keeping a safe distance from us. Farmers were working in the field, young boys catching fishes in the bill were so fascinating to watch. We could not reach at the edge of the bill due to rising depths of mud and water levels. But we enjoyed the walk and greeneries around us.