Création des Logiciels de gestion d'Entreprise, Création et référencement des sites web, Réseaux et Maintenance, Conception
seo Googleing around unknown 2013
Seo Master present to you: 
We came here to paddle around the unknown green territory of Sylhet. Our five days programme started from the night of Eid, relishing the happiness of Eid in the shape of adventure. We are, after all, “Kewkradong,” a community biased to adventure.
Nine bicycles were stacked close to that boy. David came up with an idea to help out that kid, who is just the same age as his own kid Sheshthoo. This veteran super commercial photographer could sense it before us as he is a father of two kids. He requested us not to capture the child's face, the light and the scene! You might get an award out of your click, but does it really make sense to that pure soul? 
Next morning we were riding towards Juri, a new upazila of this territory, as a resting point. The roads were nice. We had to encounter very few vehicles on our way. Drivers waved and provide space for our safety. This is a beauty, beauty of nature as well as the people and certainly it is a bit unorthodox in a city like our beloved Dhaka!
We came here to paddle around the unknown green territory of Sylhet. Our five days programme started from the night of Eid, relishing the happiness of Eid in the shape of adventure. We are, after all, “Kewkradong,” a community biased to adventure.Nine bicycles were stacked close to that boy. David came up with an idea to help out that kid, who is just the same age as his own kid Sheshthoo. This veteran super commercial photographer could sense it before us as he is a father of two kids. He requested us not to capture the child's face, the light and the scene! You might get an award out of your click, but does it really make sense to that pure soul? “Let's do something for the kid,” says David.
We tried to do as best as we could at that time. That made him happy! What else could have been that great as his silent smile? We loved that.
We tried to do as best as we could at that time. That made him happy! What else could have been that great as his silent smile? We loved that.
We started paddling. It was dawn. Perfect soft sunlight and gentle sweet breeze was blowing in our way. We were heading towards Komolganj following a sandwiched metalled road though Lawachhara reserve forest. Tropical green forest was welcoming us. Dew drops were logged on the leaves. Mist-covered road took turn to give us a closer view of a tea garden belonging to the Duncans. Pin-drop silence was only interrupted by the bhoooobhooooo sound coming from the friction of tyres and road. Drizzling weather made some delay on our sweating as the path is scrolling up and down. It felt like heaven on the wheels while following any slop and let the wheel roll. It was awesome when air was passing our ear making a hissing sound!
The sky was covered with black cloud that resisted us from pulling out cameras so nothing could stop us from enjoying the chill green Lawachhara forest. We were drifting quite gently as few of us were not that used to in regular cycling. But the “joss” of cycling inspired all of to run with fresh zeal. While resting, we communicated with local enthusiastic faces watching us as if we were some kind of aliens! Our helmets were the most attractive of all our apparatus. We fixed panniers on our bike-carrier to keep all necessary things -- food, repairing tools and accessories.
By this time cloud moved away for some time. But it was not that sunny as we were expecting. We went to local police station of Kulaura and checked the places where we can dwell for the first night. At last we got a place to pitch our tents. It was raining and the grass field was muddy that's why we rested ourselves over a long balcony of Kulaura Degree College. The news of our arrival spread like anything so many people joined the party while managing all loads and many more were standing outside the college boundary wall. Head of the Department of English came and let us use the compound.
Next morning we were riding towards Juri, a new upazila of this territory, as a resting point. The roads were nice. We had to encounter very few vehicles on our way. Drivers waved and provide space for our safety. This is a beauty, beauty of nature as well as the people and certainly it is a bit unorthodox in a city like our beloved Dhaka! The road to Bianibazar was very charming. Most of the time we faced uphill and downhill roads and we enjoyed a lot while running down though any slope. Daylight disappeared when we hit Bianibazar. Local people are well-off, which can easily be understood by seeing the stores. But all of resting inns were closed due to Eid vacation except Hotel Al-Fatah. As usual sub urban hotel, not that clean, not that good but ok.
Today we had to ride our longest way, from Bianibazar to Jointapur. At first we decided to halt at Kanaighat but favourable weather helped us do more. We took a turn while crossing Shahbag, where we saw a massive banyan tree adjacent to a beautiful mosque. We reached there by midday though it was raining. The bank of river Surma was muddy and we had to struggle to load our fully packed bicycles. Like other sub-urban cities, it was crowded and packed. We took lunch in a local restaurant. We were about to ride to Borochutul as everyone was saying that could be a place for tonight. But few members went on and there was no other alternative but to catch them up again. They have already reached Jointapur. We were far behind due to taking pictures. It was beautiful out there, scenic, spectacular and very picturesque, and very tough to resist anyone having a camera. So again we spent almost an hour and a half. Scout team confirmed the boarding and it was getting dark too.
We came up with an idea of changing our pre-fixed course and followed the route to Gowainghat. We were slow like snails because we had no fixed destination for tonight. So literally we were google-ing around unknown, where we can spend the night. Got it! A beautiful grass field surrounded by bushes, with a long canal beside. So we settled at the eye-catching campsite with three tents and nine bicycles.
Next day we ended our trip via Salutikor and caught our bus from Sylhet. 2013, By: Seo Masterseo The Hilly Bangladesh 2013
Seo Master present to you: 
On February 21 morning Monzoor and his wife Jesmine picked me up from Kakali, Banani area. We picked up Shaer, Mimi, Meesham and Shaeri. At Zatrabari, we met a huge traffic jam. All holidaymakers were rushing out of the capital. We halted in front of the Nurjahan Restaurant at Comilla to take breakfast of paratha and beef bhuna. 
2013, By: Seo Master
Three consecutive holidays were ahead from February 21 to 23. I sat over a map and chalked out a plan to take a detour of the hill districts. I phoned Shaer to arrange a vehicle. Shaer requested few friends and Monzoor responded quickly.
On February 21 morning Monzoor and his wife Jesmine picked me up from Kakali, Banani area. We picked up Shaer, Mimi, Meesham and Shaeri. At Zatrabari, we met a huge traffic jam. All holidaymakers were rushing out of the capital. We halted in front of the Nurjahan Restaurant at Comilla to take breakfast of paratha and beef bhuna. The weather was pleasant. We took a left turn at Baroihut and right turn at Karerhut. Once we entered the hilly area our companions were thrilled. The driver was new in this terrain, which worried me a little. Soon the driver got acclimatized.
We reached Ramgarh at around 1300 hours. We visited the BDR (Bangladesh Rifles) founding site, had a cozy rest and a cup of tea at Ramgarh BDR rest house and then proceeded towards Khagrachhari. We reached Mohalchhari before sunset for the night halt.
We woke early morning to the chirpings of birds. We headed for Ghagra, my old place of posting. I became nostalgic when I crossed Kutukchhari, Bogachhari and Manikchhari. We crossed through RMMK ( Rangamati-Manikcharri-Mohalchari-Khagrachari)Road and the famous massive hill range Kalapahar We reached Ghagra at about 1000 hours. We had our tea and proceeded for Kaptai through Ghaghra-Baraichari route.
I was too happy to see lofty Pine trees I had planted 20 years back on both side of the ascending road to the Officers' Mess of Ghaghra Army Camp. We left Ghaghra at about 1100 hours and reached Kaptai Dam about 1200 hours. Oh! Another beautiful site by the lakeside.
By the river Karnaphuly we observed how picnickers were enjoying! We refueled our microbus at Lichubagan and headed for Bandarban. We had a pleasant journey through the Lichubagan-Bandarban road though it was quite zigzagged. We reached Bandarban before sunset and proceeded towards Chimbuk. A new rest house is ready to be inaugurated at Chimbuk. It was another rare experience to drive through the hilly road at night. We reached Bolipara BDR HQ and refreshed ourselves. After dinner, we went for a stroll and found that people here are using solar energy to light up their homes very comfortably. Next morning we visited a village of indigenous people.
We set out for return journey on February 23 morning and took a right turn just after 22 kilometers and found the famous Nilgiri. It was a beautiful place to stay overnight. On the way to Bandarban we halted at Sailopropat and Jesmine and Mimi got busy shopping shawls and bed sheets. We left Bandarban before lunch for Dhaka.
It was a wonderful adventurous journey indeed. We covered a total 874km.
seo Cambodia by Bicycle 2013
Seo Master present to you: 
Two faces of Bayon."Whenever you see three Cambodians, remember the fourth one who was killed by the Khmer Rouge." A friend shared this sobering thought on the eve of a special adventure I was about to embark on: a bicycling trip from Bangkok to Angkor Wat in Cambodia. While this undercurrent of sadness was a part of the trip, my adventure was also filled with unexpected challenges, friendly people, and awe at seeing the magnificent ruins at Angkor.
After spending our first day (March 14) cycling in Thailand, we reached the Cambodian border at Prum at noon of the second day. We bicycled onward 17 km to Pailin and stopped there for the night. Pailin is famous for two things: sapphire mines nearby and several retired Khmer Rouge officials. Luckily I did not run into the latter while exploring the town in the afternoon. The streets of Pailin were torn up for installing sewage pipes and it was dusty and hot. Many more children than I had seen in Thailand played in the streets. The market reminded me of the bazaars of the smaller towns of Bangladesh, with the vendors waiting with their offerings while their children entertained.
The next day was our most difficult: 92km from Pailin to Battambang, the second largest town of Cambodia. Expecting another hot day (mid-30s) we started bicycling at 7am. Having braved Dhaka's traffic and shattered roads for many years, riding through Pailin's potholes was easy for me. But just outside the town I ran into trouble. That's because we started climbing the foothills of the Cardamom Mountains.
Now I don't know about you, but to me Bangladesh is the best country for mountain biking because there are no mountains. Going up those hills, my feet, legs, thighs and lungs all screamed for one thing: flat land. Suddenly I was missing the flat potholes of Dhaka, the flat muddy paths through the villages and the flat unfinished brick roads.
There was another difference I noticed immediately. The Cambodian landscape had no trees! The area we were in had been under Khmer Rouge control for years and they had chopped off all the trees. So now I was missing both the flat and green of Bangladesh.
I was also missing another advantage of cycling in Bangladeshi countryside: if you need to relieve yourself, you can always park your bicycle and walk away into a field or some trees and do the needful. Not so in Cambodia, because of landmines.
As if to soothe me, Cambodian children started appearing from their village homes. Charming and friendly, they reminded me of the village children in Bangladesh as they greeted us from the roadside.
The road from Pailin to Battambang is being built by the Chinese. Some of it is gravel and stones, while the rest is asphalt carpeted. Numerous trucks plied this road (taking sewage pipes to Pailin?) and every time one went by, we wheezed and coughed through its trail of dust for the next few minutes.
Covered with dust and bleary-eyed from the heat, we somehow made it to Battambang after seven hours of hard riding. It was there next morning that I had a moving experience.
I had awakened before everyone else and hired a Tuk-Tuk so I could take some pictures. Exploring Battambang, I discovered its charming atmosphere, friendly people, cordial neighborhoods and old French architecture. Towards the end of the ride, the driver asked me "Do you want to see the Killing Fields?" At first I declined but then I changed my mind. He took me meandering through the town and through the grounds of a Buddhist monastery to a clearing with a tower. This was a memorial to those who had perished under the Khmer Rouge. In the middle was a glass enclosed display of skulls and bones. All around the monument, frescoes described atrocities. Having come from a country which had also suffered genocide, I immediately empathized and was filled with sadness for the suffering of these gentle people.
--------------------------------------------------
The ultimate goal of our trip was to explore Angkor Wat by bicycle. A series of Buddhist and Hindu temples built during the height of the Cambodia's Angkor empire (800-1200AD), the area is spread over several square kilometers. The temples were "discovered" and restored by the French during the early 20th century using a process called "Anastylosis" reconstructing a structure to its original specifications using modern materials only when necessary (but discreetly.) Every year millions of tourists visit Angkor Wat to see these monuments created by man to show respect for the divine.
To see Angkor you must be based in Siem Reap, the nearby town. So on the fourth day, we went there from Battambang. We rode in a minivan because our original plan of taking a boat across the Tonle Sap lake was scuttled due to low water levels. I learned that China is building several dams upriver from the Mekong river and this is possibly causing water shortages in Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. Aha, I said, this story sounds very familiar! Speaking to the Cambodians, I also discovered that there is no power shortage in the country because they buy power from Thailand in the west, Laos in the north and Vietnam in the east. Women in Cambodia freely drove motorcycles and bicycled, often wearing sarongs. No one spat or did waak-thu like in Bangladesh, though I did notice some discreet nose-picking. Because of the sparser population (16 million) the towns looked cleaner than Bangladeshi towns.
Next morning, we bicycled from Siem Reap to Angkor. The vegetation changed, with many ancient trees standing among more recently planted saplings. The first temple we stopped at was Bantay Kdai, a Buddhist monastery from the 12th century. This was where I saw my first Spung tree and caught my breath.
It is the Spung tree that adds a hypnotic dimension to many of Angkor's temples. Its roots crawl like giant snakes along the walls, while the treetop towers hundreds of feet overhead. If you have seen those banyan tree trees that grow out of old abandoned houses and palaces in Bangladesh, try to imagine something ten or maybe a hundred - times more macabre and powerful and you will get an idea.
Ta Phrom is a temple with impressive Spung trees. This was our next stop. Massive Spung tree roots competed with the architectural details and fine workmanship for our attention. Then we bicycled to Bayon. This temple is filled with steep stairs, narrow corridors, and wide open terraces. But the highlight is its 54 towers all decorated with the same giant face with an enigmatic smile. After staring at that face every which way we left Bayon and went out. It was a pleasant surprise to see the smiling Cambodian children peddling Tshirts, books and souvenirs.
Our final stop was the main temple, Angkor Wat. It is a huge and complex temple surrounded by a moat. The story of the Ramayana is carved meticulously into the walls of the temple. I climbed to the top and looked around, but for me Angkor Wat was overwhelming and I came away with sensory overload.
The following day we bicycled 50km to explore Banteay Srei temple (967 AD), which many consider the most beautiful temple in Cambodia. Its pink stone building was indeed pretty, as was the artwork in stone. We also climbed up a steep mountain to see the River of Thousand Lingas. Along the stone riverbanks of this mountain river, many carvings depicting linga (ie, female phallic symbols) can be seen.
The last day of the trip was meant for bicycling in the Cambodian countryside. Since this is similar to the Bangladeshi countryside, I skipped the cycling and spent the day exploring Bayon and Ta Phrom again. Afterwards, munching on a bowl of fried yellow noodles at the Blue Pumpkin restaurant, I contemplated my trip, which was near its end.
I had experienced intense physical and emotional forces on this trip. The tough bicycle rides had challenged and drained me, but I had survived, due in no small part to my preparation before leaving. I had been less prepared for the emotional turmoil I experienced by the three faces of human Cambodia: the ghastly atrocities of the Killing Fields, and the magnificent vision of the Angkor kings and the gentle and cheerful Cambodians of today. So Cambodia will always be an enigma to me a rich enigma, but an enigma nevertheless.
Practical Details: The bicycle trip is offered by Spice Roads (www.spiceroads.com). They are well-organized and dedicated with helpful and knowledgeable staff. Needless to say, in order to avoid getting into trouble, one must be physically fit before embarking on such a trip. The bicycle trip is one-way and you need to fly out of Siem Reap at the end.2013, By: Seo Master
Two faces of Bayon.After spending our first day (March 14) cycling in Thailand, we reached the Cambodian border at Prum at noon of the second day. We bicycled onward 17 km to Pailin and stopped there for the night. Pailin is famous for two things: sapphire mines nearby and several retired Khmer Rouge officials. Luckily I did not run into the latter while exploring the town in the afternoon. The streets of Pailin were torn up for installing sewage pipes and it was dusty and hot. Many more children than I had seen in Thailand played in the streets. The market reminded me of the bazaars of the smaller towns of Bangladesh, with the vendors waiting with their offerings while their children entertained.
The next day was our most difficult: 92km from Pailin to Battambang, the second largest town of Cambodia. Expecting another hot day (mid-30s) we started bicycling at 7am. Having braved Dhaka's traffic and shattered roads for many years, riding through Pailin's potholes was easy for me. But just outside the town I ran into trouble. That's because we started climbing the foothills of the Cardamom Mountains.
Now I don't know about you, but to me Bangladesh is the best country for mountain biking because there are no mountains. Going up those hills, my feet, legs, thighs and lungs all screamed for one thing: flat land. Suddenly I was missing the flat potholes of Dhaka, the flat muddy paths through the villages and the flat unfinished brick roads.
There was another difference I noticed immediately. The Cambodian landscape had no trees! The area we were in had been under Khmer Rouge control for years and they had chopped off all the trees. So now I was missing both the flat and green of Bangladesh.
I was also missing another advantage of cycling in Bangladeshi countryside: if you need to relieve yourself, you can always park your bicycle and walk away into a field or some trees and do the needful. Not so in Cambodia, because of landmines.
As if to soothe me, Cambodian children started appearing from their village homes. Charming and friendly, they reminded me of the village children in Bangladesh as they greeted us from the roadside.
The road from Pailin to Battambang is being built by the Chinese. Some of it is gravel and stones, while the rest is asphalt carpeted. Numerous trucks plied this road (taking sewage pipes to Pailin?) and every time one went by, we wheezed and coughed through its trail of dust for the next few minutes.
Covered with dust and bleary-eyed from the heat, we somehow made it to Battambang after seven hours of hard riding. It was there next morning that I had a moving experience.
I had awakened before everyone else and hired a Tuk-Tuk so I could take some pictures. Exploring Battambang, I discovered its charming atmosphere, friendly people, cordial neighborhoods and old French architecture. Towards the end of the ride, the driver asked me "Do you want to see the Killing Fields?" At first I declined but then I changed my mind. He took me meandering through the town and through the grounds of a Buddhist monastery to a clearing with a tower. This was a memorial to those who had perished under the Khmer Rouge. In the middle was a glass enclosed display of skulls and bones. All around the monument, frescoes described atrocities. Having come from a country which had also suffered genocide, I immediately empathized and was filled with sadness for the suffering of these gentle people.
--------------------------------------------------
The ultimate goal of our trip was to explore Angkor Wat by bicycle. A series of Buddhist and Hindu temples built during the height of the Cambodia's Angkor empire (800-1200AD), the area is spread over several square kilometers. The temples were "discovered" and restored by the French during the early 20th century using a process called "Anastylosis" reconstructing a structure to its original specifications using modern materials only when necessary (but discreetly.) Every year millions of tourists visit Angkor Wat to see these monuments created by man to show respect for the divine.
To see Angkor you must be based in Siem Reap, the nearby town. So on the fourth day, we went there from Battambang. We rode in a minivan because our original plan of taking a boat across the Tonle Sap lake was scuttled due to low water levels. I learned that China is building several dams upriver from the Mekong river and this is possibly causing water shortages in Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. Aha, I said, this story sounds very familiar! Speaking to the Cambodians, I also discovered that there is no power shortage in the country because they buy power from Thailand in the west, Laos in the north and Vietnam in the east. Women in Cambodia freely drove motorcycles and bicycled, often wearing sarongs. No one spat or did waak-thu like in Bangladesh, though I did notice some discreet nose-picking. Because of the sparser population (16 million) the towns looked cleaner than Bangladeshi towns.
Next morning, we bicycled from Siem Reap to Angkor. The vegetation changed, with many ancient trees standing among more recently planted saplings. The first temple we stopped at was Bantay Kdai, a Buddhist monastery from the 12th century. This was where I saw my first Spung tree and caught my breath.
It is the Spung tree that adds a hypnotic dimension to many of Angkor's temples. Its roots crawl like giant snakes along the walls, while the treetop towers hundreds of feet overhead. If you have seen those banyan tree trees that grow out of old abandoned houses and palaces in Bangladesh, try to imagine something ten or maybe a hundred - times more macabre and powerful and you will get an idea.
Ta Phrom is a temple with impressive Spung trees. This was our next stop. Massive Spung tree roots competed with the architectural details and fine workmanship for our attention. Then we bicycled to Bayon. This temple is filled with steep stairs, narrow corridors, and wide open terraces. But the highlight is its 54 towers all decorated with the same giant face with an enigmatic smile. After staring at that face every which way we left Bayon and went out. It was a pleasant surprise to see the smiling Cambodian children peddling Tshirts, books and souvenirs.
Our final stop was the main temple, Angkor Wat. It is a huge and complex temple surrounded by a moat. The story of the Ramayana is carved meticulously into the walls of the temple. I climbed to the top and looked around, but for me Angkor Wat was overwhelming and I came away with sensory overload.
The following day we bicycled 50km to explore Banteay Srei temple (967 AD), which many consider the most beautiful temple in Cambodia. Its pink stone building was indeed pretty, as was the artwork in stone. We also climbed up a steep mountain to see the River of Thousand Lingas. Along the stone riverbanks of this mountain river, many carvings depicting linga (ie, female phallic symbols) can be seen.
The last day of the trip was meant for bicycling in the Cambodian countryside. Since this is similar to the Bangladeshi countryside, I skipped the cycling and spent the day exploring Bayon and Ta Phrom again. Afterwards, munching on a bowl of fried yellow noodles at the Blue Pumpkin restaurant, I contemplated my trip, which was near its end.
I had experienced intense physical and emotional forces on this trip. The tough bicycle rides had challenged and drained me, but I had survived, due in no small part to my preparation before leaving. I had been less prepared for the emotional turmoil I experienced by the three faces of human Cambodia: the ghastly atrocities of the Killing Fields, and the magnificent vision of the Angkor kings and the gentle and cheerful Cambodians of today. So Cambodia will always be an enigma to me a rich enigma, but an enigma nevertheless.
Practical Details: The bicycle trip is offered by Spice Roads (www.spiceroads.com). They are well-organized and dedicated with helpful and knowledgeable staff. Needless to say, in order to avoid getting into trouble, one must be physically fit before embarking on such a trip. The bicycle trip is one-way and you need to fly out of Siem Reap at the end.2013, By: Seo Master
seo Spring by the river Teesta 2013
Seo Master present to you:
Time has always been a factor during making a bicycle trip as we all have work and classes to attend to. The recent events in the country were not encouraging enough for outdoor trips. Despite that the joy of riding could not resist us! The seven-member team of adventure community -- Kewkradong.com -- set off for Nilphamari to ride along the famous river Teesta.
This place is named “Jaldhaka” which means a place covered by water. It is said that long ago this whole area was flooded by Teesta due a devastating earthquake. Teesta was a much wider river then but now it has lost its vigor. We rarely found any tea stalls in this thinly populated area. The shops beside the road were empty except for a few curious faces eyeing us as we passed by. We could see the Teesra barrage in the distance. We found a picnic spot just beside the rest house of the Water Development Board, where we decided to pitch our tents for the night.
2013, By: Seo Master
Time has always been a factor during making a bicycle trip as we all have work and classes to attend to. The recent events in the country were not encouraging enough for outdoor trips. Despite that the joy of riding could not resist us! The seven-member team of adventure community -- Kewkradong.com -- set off for Nilphamari to ride along the famous river Teesta.Riding bicycles in Dhaka is not always pleasant, actually it's kind of difficult because of maniac motor vehicle drivers. That's why it's hard to find riding mates here. We, a small group of youth known as Kewkradong.com, try locate places where we can paddle along. Despite the hassles of transferring cycles from Dhaka to another region, its full of fun to ride in rural or suburban areas in Bangladesh!
Nilphamiri is only 6 hours' drive from Dhaka. We had to prop our bikes on bus roof at Gabtoli terminal. And that's a real trouble because our “Chinese” bikes are too rickety to travel on bus top. They need some mandatory fixing before and after every ride.
......................………………
It was dawn when we started off from the Nilphamari District Circuit House but like many previous occasions we found that one bike has a flat tire.
......................………………
It was dawn when we started off from the Nilphamari District Circuit House but like many previous occasions we found that one bike has a flat tire.
We put the suburb behind and followed a paved road by a canal fed from the Teesta barrage to irrigate the farmland. This road also acts as a dam and so no heavy vehicles are allowed to ply it. We felt relieved and started riding in a flock.
Light spring breeze from the south flowed over the canals and green fields. We sung and rode, we parked by the canal to dip our feet in the gentle cold water. No rush. Then we started leisurely paddle away again. Trees planted along the dam cast shades on us. It was so refreshing that we stopped counting the milestones to our destination.
This place is named “Jaldhaka” which means a place covered by water. It is said that long ago this whole area was flooded by Teesta due a devastating earthquake. Teesta was a much wider river then but now it has lost its vigor. We rarely found any tea stalls in this thinly populated area. The shops beside the road were empty except for a few curious faces eyeing us as we passed by. We could see the Teesra barrage in the distance. We found a picnic spot just beside the rest house of the Water Development Board, where we decided to pitch our tents for the night. The northern part of Teesta is really vast, appearing like an ocean of white sand. A few canals cut through the sand. We imagined how vast Teesta might have been looking in rainy season when the shoals go under water.
Night in the tent is another fun. We used the grassy field of the rest house as our camping ground.
The next morning we stared very early en route to Saidpur. It was a fairly good road but after a couple of hours of riding we had to follow through a muddy road. It was even smoother than the paved one
We had to cross a very small part of the national high way after riding Kishorgong Taragong and using the by pass to access Saidpur town. So in a way almost whole riding - the path was just safe to following the path again. We caught the bus in the same night to reach Dhaka by the next morning!!
seo Pleasant Padma - Sleepy Padma 2013
Seo Master present to you: 
We were on a newly-built wooden boat 'Panshi Nao,' a name chosen from its traditional design. As we settled comfortably on top of the boat's hood, it started moving with much noise from the engine.
The bone chilling wind whipped our cheeks. We cringed inside our armour of jackets, scurf and caps, seeking some warmth on this winter morning. But that did not help much. The boat moved slowly, like a mother duck. The thud of the engine seemed muffled by the chill, too. Very slowly it cruised down the Balu river and then fell onto Shitalakhya.
We were now in the middle of the Padma. The gray mist had thinned by now but still vision would not find the other side of the river. It was a strange feeling, a feeling of being suspended in the space. You could not make out the sky or the river. It was all same; a singleness of misty existence. Suddenly the surrealism turned more unreal as a n army of gulls and terns with long wings and forked tails appeared on the scene. Where did the terns come from? All the way from the Caspian Sea? Maybe, maybe not. They squeaked as they flew in abrupt angular motions. Their wings batting heavily against the mist. They came close to us, then wandered away. An empty cargo vessel overtook us, heading for the sea. Empty we could guess because the draft showed so. The gulls and the terns took after it, probably in the hope of finding some fish jumping out of water.
2013, By: Seo Master
We were out of Dhaka crowd and the spell of month-long scorching heat. We drove down to the Mawa ghat through the smooth metalled road under the cover of gray cloud and occasional friendly drizzle.
Before us, the mighty Padma River was flowing as it was thousands of years ago. This part of the river is bifurcated into two channels making a huge island in the middle and the two branches joined again.
We were on a newly-built wooden boat 'Panshi Nao,' a name chosen from its traditional design. As we settled comfortably on top of the boat's hood, it started moving with much noise from the engine. We were cruising on the smaller branch of the river but strong wind created huge waves that rocked our boat. Though we had some life jackets, the waves made some of us a bit worried. But soon the worrying time was over and all of us started singing suppressing the whirring of the engine. Mr Alam and Mr Maroof of JABA Tours, our host of the trip, were always busy looking after us. Soon then joined the chorus.
The weather was not photographer-friendly as most of them hate such lighting condition, but surely it was perfect for the outdoor-loving tourists. The condition was ideal for the autumn Padma landscape as if came out of poems of Tagore who used to spent quite a long time on the river.
Apart from the mechanised boats, small dinghis were plying here and there. The colour of sky and water became dirty gray and the horizon could only be defined by the lines of lush green vegetation.
After an hour or so, out boat anchored at the junction of the main course of the river with strong currents.
It was time for swimming but the level difference of boat and water made it difficult to drop into the water. Fortunately, Inam volunteered by dropping his inflated boat into the water. Alam dropped down some lifebuoys entangled by a strong rope for the relief of the tired swimmers.
One must admit that swimming in swimming pools and free flowing water is always a different experience. Suddenly clouds disappeared and an intense blue sky with brilliant sunlight came out from nowhere. We did not waste time to enjoy the magical moments. We got to swimming, mud-bathing, squeezing through the paddy and jute vegetations and everything that came to our brain.
We were tired to our bones and our stomach persuading us to call it the fun. We obliged.
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The bone chilling wind whipped our cheeks. We cringed inside our armour of jackets, scurf and caps, seeking some warmth on this winter morning. But that did not help much. The boat moved slowly, like a mother duck. The thud of the engine seemed muffled by the chill, too. Very slowly it cruised down the Balu river and then fell onto Shitalakhya.
A thick mist hung around us almost like a mosquito net. This was exactly how you should feel if you dip in a huge cauldron of water mixed with milk. And mists make you feel sleepy. Even in this early morning after a good night's sleep we wanted to doze off. But we knew it was better to stay awake because the mist was sometimes so heavy that we could see nothing beyond a few feet, neither in the rear nor in the front. And that makes the journey dangerous.
The Eid was just a few days away and we could see the engine boats moving at high speeds carrying full load of cattle. The cows, red, brown and white, silently approached their perilous end, chewing blissfully. They did not stir much because the overnight chilly journey must have frozen them. The beparis or the sellers snugly sat against each other, colourful scurf tightly wrapped around their head. They looked at us with watery eyes, the chill and the wind had been taking toll on them.
We checked time: it was already 10 in the morning. But you could vouch it was six because nowhere could you see the sun. That makes the case for that wonderful, life-giving planet -- how its presence or absence can change our perception about life. We could now see the banks through the haze. Even in this cold morning the women were already there taking dip in the river and washing clothes. Somebody said the water remains warm on the winter mornings, but I found no courage to test the hypothesis. The trees and the paddy fields looked heavily drenched in dew. They all seemed to be cowering with the wind and chill. Everything looked soggy, may be because we felt soggy ourselves. Then came into view a barren field. The hacked away paddy stocks stand like fallen soldiers. A field after harvest always looks so desolate and lonely. Like a purposeless soul. Then you feel even colder inside.
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We took a small turn and now could hear somebody, probably a small kid, blaring over the microphone in his shrill voice about a 'huge' cattle market. As we passed by the market, the 'huge' thing turned out to be an affair of five bullocks and no goats. There were more bamboo poles than cows and more lights than men. Suddenly, all these 'huge' cattle markets started popping up on our way. As engine boats loaded with cattle would pass by, the market-wallahs would frantically wave their scurf to lure them to their markets. Hardly anyone would stop. They all want to push closer to the capital where money flies in the air.
We were now in the middle of the Padma. The gray mist had thinned by now but still vision would not find the other side of the river. It was a strange feeling, a feeling of being suspended in the space. You could not make out the sky or the river. It was all same; a singleness of misty existence. Suddenly the surrealism turned more unreal as a n army of gulls and terns with long wings and forked tails appeared on the scene. Where did the terns come from? All the way from the Caspian Sea? Maybe, maybe not. They squeaked as they flew in abrupt angular motions. Their wings batting heavily against the mist. They came close to us, then wandered away. An empty cargo vessel overtook us, heading for the sea. Empty we could guess because the draft showed so. The gulls and the terns took after it, probably in the hope of finding some fish jumping out of water. There was this fishing boat bobbing aimlessly with the fishermen struggling to cast a net tied to two long bamboo poles. The boat tipped dangerously on its side. I hoped that it would roll over with the effect of the fishermen taking a good dip in the freezing water. But by some miracle, nothing happened. As our boat neared it we noticed a white rope going straight into the water. It can't be anything but fish.
"What's it you got there?" one of us asked.
The fisherman pulled up the line and the silver bodies of two big fish flashed -- a boal and a katal. But the drooling of some of our fish lovers stopped on hearing the price -- 1,900 taka for the pair. After a little haggling, we left the fish to their watery world and headed ahead into the nothingness.
It was late afternoon and a new layer of cold was descending, freezing the earth. Freezing our heart. It is when the doves would brood quietly on electric wires running above the derelict newly harvested fields, their beaks buried in their puffed feather. It is the time when the Shaliks would look for straws in the barren fields, hopping from one mould of earth to another. It is the time when the field mice would break their sleep and shake the laziness out of their tiny warm bodies. But we could feel a gloom seeping inside us. And then suddenly the sun appeared, almost magically. Through the gray hazy mist, a big round sun hung like a fireball above the Padma. Its shape pixilated by the fog. Its pale colour quavered in vermilion hue. We stood mesmerized.
And then a lonely bird, probably a kite, flew in a silhouette across the sun. We felt even lonelier on that Padma evening.
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