Struggling with the Heat and Finding Relief: An Evening at Narayanganj City Park

Hello dear friends,
I hope you all are doing well and spending a beautiful life with your loved ones. I wish you all happiness and peace.

The weather in Bangladesh is like an unsolved puzzle. No one can really predict what it will be like tomorrow—whether the sky will bring rain or the sun will shine fiercely. But one thing is certain: most of the time, it’s unbearably hot. People suffer every day under the scorching sun. In truth, much of this suffering is the result of our own actions. We continue to harm the environment—cutting down trees, polluting rivers and canals, and disturbing the balance of nature. And the consequence? We are forced to endure extreme heat and discomfort.

For the last two or three days, the sky had been cloudy. A cool breeze was blowing, and it felt refreshing, as if nature had taken a kind turn. But the relief didn’t last long. Yesterday, the sun blazed in full force. The heat was so intense that it felt suffocating. Staying indoors was unbearable. On top of that, my family was away in the village, leaving me all alone at home. To escape the oppressive heat, I decided to spend some time at Narayanganj City Park.

The park is just a short ride from my home, and the fare costs only ten taka. In the evening, I went there and found I was not alone in seeking relief. Many others had also come, families with children, groups of friends—everyone trying to find a little peace away from the heat.

At the heart of the park lies a large lake surrounded by seating arrangements. A gentle breeze blew across the water, and when it touched my skin, I felt an immediate sense of comfort. Despite the stifling weather, that breeze was like a gift. Children were laughing and playing, people were chatting, and together it created an atmosphere that felt vibrant and alive.

I spent about an hour there, simply soaking in the fresh air and the lively surroundings. In a busy urban life, such open spaces are essential for mental relaxation. You don’t realize how much you need them until you experience it.

However, as I made my way back home, reality struck me again—my family wasn’t there, and there was no food at home. Going back hungry wasn’t an option. So, I stopped by a small hotel and bought a simple meal: two tandoori rotis and some fried lentils. That became my dinner for the night.

When I returned home, the silence of the empty house felt heavier than usual. Without family, life often feels scattered—meals become irregular, sleep lacks rhythm, and there’s no one to share simple conversations with. Still, the day’s exhaustion and the heavy heat made me fall asleep quickly after eating.

This is how my days and nights pass. Yet, even in such situations, small moments of relief make life bearable. Sitting by the lake at City Park and feeling the cool breeze, or enjoying a modest meal of roti and lentils—these little things, though simple, carry great meaning. They are what keep life moving forward.