The massive railway station at Kamalapur attracts photographers because of its architecture, lighting, open urban space and, of course, its people. For example, in the early 1990s, the photographer Hasan Chandan published a book of black and white photographs called The People of Kamalapur Railway Station which remains a classic of Bangladeshi photography. It includes photographs of people of all strata composed with great beauty and grace, capturing moments that often reveal life's secrets and surprises.

I have been drawn to Kamalapur for many years. I go there to photograph the rail passengers passing through. With its high ceilings and open platforms the station affords a safe, semi-private space. It is a place where I feel I can photograph people from middle and working class backgrounds up close, more so than on the street or other public places.

The station has a daily and weekly rhythm of its own. Mornings and late afternoons are busy times; mid-day is slow. Thursday afternoons see many leaving town for the weekend.

During festival times, particularly the two Eids, the station offers an additional attraction for me and other photographers. Many people -particularly children - dress up in colourful new clothes. Toddlers often wear bright shoes and sunglasses. Many women and girls adorn their hands and arms with henna patterns. Anticipating a fun vacation in their village home, everyone is in a good mood.

Festival times also bring the crowds. On two or three critical days before Eid, the platforms overflow with people eager to get home. When an empty train enters the platform, the crowds rush toward it, taking up the seats and any standing room in the

lower class cabins. Those holding reserved tickets in the upper classes are more relaxed.

Freeloaders take up seats on the train rooftops.

Children are often the liveliest passengers. In this crowded city short of open space, the platforms offer an opportunity to run around. The pillars and benches lend themselves to a game of peek-a-boo. Older passengers are entertained by recently installed TV screens which show songs and dances.

Looking at my Kamalapur photographs over the years, I notice a subtle but distinct change in my subjects. As affluence has increased among all strata of this country, so has the sophistication of festival dress. This Eid, for example, many women and girls wore elaborate, multi-coloured outfits - as shown in the photograph - vaguely reminiscent of the middle-east or perhaps western India and Pakistan. Head

coverings made from lace were also popular. These items perhaps push the notion of purdah to new territory. The sari continues to be the mainstay of the middle-aged and older women, many opting for colourful ones. Even those wearing a plain black burqa often cheer it up with a bright pink or orange orna. Men wear the usual shirts and pants - or madrasah/tabligi outfits - but I noticed several young men wearing knee-length shorts.

Among the hubbub and clamour there are moments of revelation. Like the time when the young father kneels to tie the shoelaces of his toddler son while the mother, sitting on a bench, looks on with loving eyes - a timeless scene that Chandan captured so effectively in his book, and a scene which will repeat as long as there is love and family.

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