How are you all? I hope you are all doing well. I am also doing well with your prayers and love. From today, I started walking a new path in a new community. I hope I can go a long way in a new community. If your prayers and love are with me. There is always a lot of happiness in discovering something new. Anyway, today I have come to share a photography post with you. I hope you will like my post.

Rain, for me, is a quiet kind of emotion. And when it comes after a long, tiring workday, it feels even more special. That day was exactly like that—a busy day behind me, a weary mind and body, and a silent wish for some calm. As I stepped out of the office in the late afternoon, I noticed the sky turning darker. Clouds had gathered above Agargaon, and a gentle breeze was moving the leaves. It felt like the rain was about to start any moment.

I hopped onto a rickshaw headed toward Farmgate. Just then, the rain began—soft, steady drops tapping on the plastic roof above. I didn’t get completely soaked, thanks to the cover, but I could feel the touch of the rain, smell the scent of the earth, and hear the melody it created.The familiar streets of Dhaka suddenly started to look unfamiliar—almost magical.

As we passed under the Agargaon flyover, I noticed puddles forming on the roadside. They reflected the dim sky, electric wires, and the faint glow of rickshaw lights. I had seen this scene many times before, but today everything felt fresh and new.The trees lining the road sparkled from the rain, leaves dripping slowly. On one side, a man walked with an umbrella, and with every step, his shoes splashed in the water. Life was still moving, but in a quieter, slower rhythm. The rickshaw puller didn’t seem bothered by the rain either. Despite being wet, there was no trace of annoyance on his face—just a calm look, as if he too was part of this quiet beauty.

The rickshaw rolled on, slowly. The sound of raindrops, the squeaking wheels, and the tapping on the rickshaw’s roof formed a melody. It felt like the city’s noise had paused for a while, making space for something gentler.Shops stood half-wet along the road, with people taking shelter under their shades. Some rushed to catch buses, while others waited patiently. I saw a mother holding her child tightly under a small awning—a sight that quietly stayed with me. Looking to the side, I spotted a Kadamba (Kadam) tree. Its wet flowers were falling slowly. That image pulled at my heartstrings, reminding me of childhood days, playing in the rain, chasing after falling blossoms. It was then I took out my phone and snapped a picture. It captured a quiet corner of the road—the rickshaw’s dim light, wet leaves above, and a hazy Farmgate in the distance. A perfect moment frozen in time.To someone else, it may just look like a random rainy street photo, but to me, it holds a story—a little piece of peace in the middle of a hectic life.

Finally, the rickshaw stopped at the busy Farmgate crossing. The noise returned—buses honking, people shouting, traffic police blowing whistles. But my mind was still on that slow, rainy ride from Agargaon, sheltered under a thin rickshaw roof.As I stepped off and looked up at the sky one last time, the raindrops were still falling—gentle, steady, calming. I realized then that even in a city full of noise, nature always speaks—if we’re just willing to listen.

That rainy evening didn’t just leave me wet—it touched me. That short journey from Agargaon to Farmgate reminded me that even within the daily grind, there are pockets of beauty waiting to be noticed. We just need to keep our eyes open. The photo I took that day still sits in my phone’s gallery—not just as a picture, but as a memory, a feeling. And if you ever come across a moment like that, try to hold onto it. Because sometimes, even in the middle of a noisy city, nature knocks softly—we just have to open the door.