AS I relax on the drive from Jhenldah to Faridpur. I am struck once again by the beauty of the surrounding countryside. The riverwater sparkle’s in the sunlight, and the boats sail serenely on. the blue, blue water. It is a sunny winter day. and there are only a few people to be seen walking along the highway. The sky is such a bright blue that It almost hurts your eyes, and puffy white clouds drift by every now and then. On both sides of the road. the emerald green paddy fields stretch as far as the eye can see. and beyond that densely packed trees line the horizon. A few small huts can be seen nestling amidst the lush vegetation Looking out on this view, you would never think that Bangladesh was a country with a population problem. Where are all the people?!

There are many small incidents to enjoy bn the drive Everywhere we go. we see children of al) sizes in the fields, taking advantage of the lower water levels in winter to catch fish with their hands. Some are successful, others less so. We even see one woman, who is fishing so successfully in a ditch that she can barely keep up with the fish that seem to be throwing themselves onto her hands, and keeps Hinging them behind her. Unnoticed by her. some chickens wander up to the pile of fish and start decimating her catch. As she suddenly catches sight of them, her fishing is abandoned as she indignantly chases the chickens away.

Although it is winter, the sunlight is very bright, and it Is surprisingly hot. We pause

briefly as part of the queue of traffic waiting to cross a narrow bridge, and 1 spy a dog sitting in the shade of a bullock cart. As the cart-owner pushes hi? cart a few yards further forward, inching closer lo the bridge, the dog finds that the patch of shade has shifted. Undaunted, he gets up and lies down again once lie has caught up with the bullock cart. This routine continues a couple more times until the bullock cart finally reaches the bridge, at which point the dog wanders off to lie under a tree.

In several of the fields, we see rows of white plastic bags tied onto sticks standing amidst the vegetables. We are briefly puzzled until we re alise that the alm is for thorn to play the role of scarecrows; they shift in the wind and frighten off hungry birds. There is no end to the ingenuity of the Bangladeshi farmer. Given the challenges that people in this.country have to lace on a day to day basis in order to survive’in an often hostile environment, that is perhaps not altogether surprising. Recycling is the name of the game here, and it's been going on for far longer than environmentalism has been in vogue.

As I settle back and appreciate the serene beauty that surrounds me. I spare a, thought for the visitors whose entire experience of Bangladesh is limited to Dhaka. as well as the Dhakaites who dwell, in that bustling, overcrowded, polluted city. •

The writer is the Deputy Executive Director of Saplagram SWantrvar Parishad.