A misty train ride across Bangladesh's winter heartland

Cloaked in mist, the landscape in the predawn hour was haunting. I leaned against the train door and looked at rural houses, their shapes faintly discernible in thick darkness. Only the green light coming from the displays of digital electricity meters mounted on exterior walls of some houses contrasted sharply with the gloom.

Shades of blue and purple gave the sky a melancholic look, which I attempted to photograph with my phone but mostly came up with useless, blurred shots. The train whistle pierced the eerie tranquillity. I exhaled and saw my breath in the air as chilly north winds hit my bare face, hands, and feet.

I was aboard the Dolonchapa Express, embracing the northern winter through a long journey. The ride began at 6am from Panchagarh, the country's northernmost railway station where I could readily feel the higher intensity of winter compared to Dhaka. This train winds through northern Bangladesh's most extensive route that looks like the letter 'S', traversing six districts before pulling into the Santahar junction station in Bogura.

In northern Bangladesh, winter is not just a season; it is a prolonged ordeal that northerners face with fortitude. Characterised by a bone-chilling cold resulting from a marked fall in the mercury and icy winds blowing from the Himalayas, it weaves itself into the fabric and rhythm of daily life. The tribulation is compounded by dense fog enveloping the surroundings.

The destitute and low-income groups bear the brunt of the harsh northern winter, with many unable to afford proper warm clothes. As a journalist, I had over the years sub-edited numerous reports on the trials and tribulations of living in the north during winter. This time, I wanted to subject myself to a tiny part of the plight.

Soon after the first light of the day appeared, the sky transitioned between hues of purple, blue, pink, and orange as the train reached the Ruhea station in Thakurgaon. Cultivated and harvested paddy fields stretched out in orderly rows while mist wrapped the large trees in the distance, dimming their shapes and blending seamlessly with the horizon. Wisps of clouds floated in the sky as the train pressed on, tearing through the thick shroud of mist in the northern Bangladeshi countryside.

My compartment was next to the train's power car, and I could smell burnt fuel and see black smoke billowing from the exhaust system. A few thatched houses popped up amid the traditional tin-built rural units, with haystacks in the yards and livestock covered with sackcloth for warmth. Farmers wearing mufflers and shawls braved the cold to work in the fields, some of them assisted by their spouses.

I asked a passenger, who came to the door to smoke, what crop farmers were growing. "Mostly potato, onion, and maise," he replied, slightly surprised at my ignorance. "I am from Dhaka and not very familiar with agricultural details," I compensated.

Sugarcane fields abound in Thakurgaon, where one of the 15 state-owned sugar mills is located. The low-hanging mist softened the landscape, where the sugarcane plants with their long, sword-shaped leaves stood out from the flora. The green and brown fields were punctuated by yellow mustard fields, a real feast for the eyes on a January winter morning.

The train decelerated and took a sharp curve before the Kanchan junction that connects the Parbatipur-Panchagarh and the cross-border Radhikapur-Biral lines. It then trundled on the Kanchan Railway Bridge built on the Punarbhaba River in Dinajpur in 2016. Several men hauled their bicycles on the reddish bridge's adjacent walking lane.

A sizable crowd thronged the Dinajpur station when we arrived there around 9am. The district produces delicious lychees and aromatic rice as well as boasts the 18th century Kantajew temple, a magnificent piece of terracotta architecture dedicated to the Hindu deity Krishna and his wife Rukmini. Wearing a black cap with yellow accents and a dark brown jacket, a boy on the platform was selling cotton candy, and I indulged in one for Tk 20.

In service since 1986, the Dolonchapa Express used to run between Dinajpur and Santahar. Residents of further north in Panchagarh and Thakurgaon had no direct train to Rangpur and further down to Bogura. Responding to their continuing demands, the railway authorities extended the route to Panchagarh in 2022.

The sun climbed higher and shone brightly, burning off the mist and revealing more of the countryside. Men of different ages cycled on zigzagged dirt roads, flocks of ducks swam in ponds, and children played football in small fields next to railway tracks. A small boat with no boatman and passenger floated in the Kakra River that flows near the Chirirbandar upazila.

Changing the locomotive at the Parbatipur junction station, the train lurched forward and sped to Rangpur, where many passengers got on and off for many economically disadvantaged northerners seeking better public healthcare in the divisional city of Rangpur, riding the Dolonchapa Express is a cheap and convenient option. The least comfortable Shovan class offers the cheapest fare, only Tk 340 for the entire 417km journey that takes more than 10 hours.

Around midday at the Kaunia junction station, it was comfortably warm. The stories of Kaunia upazila residents have evolved through flooding and erosion of the Teesta River, a critical element of Bangladesh-India geopolitical tension. While erosion over the years has made thousands of people homeless, many bounced back by building new houses and cultivating crops on the sandbars (chars) emerging from the river.

The train headed south towards Gaibandha on the Santahar-Kaunia line after a long halt at Kaunia for locomotive reversal. I asked the man sitting next to me whether he likes Sidal, a signature northern delicacy prepared by mashing small dried fish and amaranth stem together. "Yes. It is tasty," he replied.

It became difficult even for the travelling ticket examiners and hawkers to maneuver through the packed carriage after we left flood-prone Gaibandha, which covers areas at the confluence of the Teesta and Brahmaputra rivers. The district's Balashi Ghat is a relic of the bygone era when freight and passenger trains used to be ferried across the Brahmaputra, connecting northern districts with Jamalpur, Mymensingh, and further down with Dhaka. Passenger ferry operation stopped after the Jamuna Bridge's opening in 1998, but locals continue to demand its resumption.

The final leg of the journey began at the Bogura station, where the crowd in our coach thinned out. We continued through the northern plains dotted with small and big settlements where some of the most hardworking Bangladeshis live an authentic rural life. They live in nondescript houses, often bathe in ponds, and earn their livelihoods mostly by growing food for others, rain or shine.

I deboarded at the 147-year-old Santahar junction station shortly before the sun disappeared below the horizon. The legendary Darjeeling Mail used to run between Kolkata and Siliguri through the station in the pre-partition days. Amid the muffled voices of arriving and departing passengers, a fine mist began to settle in the vicinity as if to ease the transition from twilight to darkness.

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