How are you all? I hope you are all doing well. I am also doing well. Today I am here with a new blog. Today the topic of my blog is travel. In fact, I feel very happy if I can share my travels through the blog. So I try to share at least one travel post with you every week. I really like sharing travel posts. I hope you all will like today's post a lot. Below is my travel post shared with you. Do let me know how it went.

Some places feel different depending on the season, and some memories are best preserved in the cool silence of a winter night. My visit to Hatirjheel one chilly evening, not too long ago, still lingers in my heart like a favorite song replaying quietly in the background. It wasn’t just about the view—it was about the whole experience: the stillness of the winter air, the quiet city lights reflecting off the water, and a warm cup of red tea in hand, completing a moment of serene perfection.

Hatirjheel is known as one of Dhaka’s most beautiful and accessible urban retreats. It’s a place where the city breathes—a blend of water, light, wind, and open space. But that particular winter night gave it an entirely new character. As I arrived, wrapped in a shawl and slightly shivering from the evening breeze, I noticed how everything looked softer, quieter, and somehow more meaningful. The lights along the water’s edge sparkled like stars scattered on the surface of the lake. The bridges were gently glowing in blue and white, their reflections dancing calmly with the ripples below. It wasn’t crowded that night—perhaps because of the cold—which made the experience all the more peaceful. The usual hum of traffic was distant, as if the entire city had taken a deep breath and paused, just like me.

I walked slowly, my footsteps echoing slightly on the pavement. Around me, couples sat wrapped in quiet conversations, families took slow strolls, and a few friends laughed over roasted peanuts from nearby vendors. Everything seemed unhurried, like time itself had decided to take a break and simply observe. As I leaned over the railing and looked out across the water, I felt a deep calm settling over me. The night air carried a freshness only winter can offer—cool, clean, and crisp. It kissed my cheeks and made me pull my shawl a little tighter. The stars were faint above, but the city’s glow offered its own constellation on the surface of Hatirjheel’s lake. The reflections of buildings and light posts shimmered gently, as if the water was holding memories of the day and softly letting them go.

At one point during my walk, I found a small tea stall tucked beside a quiet corner of the lake. The warm aroma of chai drifted toward me, tempting and familiar. I ordered a cup of red tea—something I particularly enjoy in winter. It arrived in a simple glass, piping hot, its color rich and inviting. I held the glass with both hands, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. That first sip was more than just tea—it was comfort. Slightly bitter, slightly sweet, full of flavor and warmth, it felt like the perfect contrast to the surrounding cold. As I stood there sipping slowly, watching the steam rise from the cup and disappear into the night, I realized how sometimes the simplest pleasures bring the deepest joy.
The red tea reminded me of countless other winter evenings, of conversations shared over hot drinks, of hands rubbed together to stay warm, of moments when silence felt like the kindest company. But on that night, with Hatirjheel in front of me, the tea felt like part of something bigger. It was not just a drink—it was a companion to the experience. I sat on one of the benches, quietly observing the view. The breeze played with my hair, and every now and then, a light gust would ripple across the water, changing the reflections ever so slightly. Behind me, the distant buzz of the city life continued, but in front of me was peace—pure and undisturbed.

Some bikers rode past, their headlights drawing lines on the road. A few joggers braved the cold, their breath visible in the air. Yet even with these signs of life, there was a stillness in the atmosphere that made it all feel dreamlike. Hatirjheel, often bustling with energy during the day, had transformed into a calm, glowing lake of light and reflection by night. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the temperature dropped a little more, but I didn’t feel like leaving. I wanted to hold on to that feeling—the comfort of solitude, the embrace of winter, the gentle murmur of water against stone, and the lingering taste of red tea on my tongue.

Eventually, I stood up, placed the empty glass carefully on the tea seller’s table, and gave him a small nod of thanks. He smiled, as if knowing that the tea had done its job well. As I made my way back toward the exit, I took one last look at the lake. The lights still shimmered, the bridges still stood graceful and silent, and the winter wind whispered promises of return. That night at Hatirjheel wasn’t just another winter evening. It was a quiet chapter in my story—a page filled with peace, reflection, and warmth. It reminded me that even within a busy city, there are pockets of calm waiting to be discovered. And sometimes, all it takes is a walk, a view, and a cup of red tea to feel whole again.
What made that night so special wasn’t just the place, or the season, or even the tea. It was the combination of all three, wrapped in the stillness of winter. It reminded me that amidst all the rushing, the noise, the stress—we all need to pause. To breathe. To sit by the water. To sip something warm. To look at the reflections, both in the lake and within ourselves. If you ever find yourself in Dhaka on a cold evening, I highly recommend visiting Hatirjheel. Not just to see it—but to feel it. Go alone, or with someone you love. Walk slowly. Drink something hot. And allow the city’s water-bound heart to show you a softer side of life.

Because in the end, it's not always the grand journeys or faraway destinations that stay with us—sometimes, it's the quiet nights, the simple sips, and the reflections of light on water that linger in the soul.

I don't know how you liked my post today. I will come back to you with a new travel post in the future. Until then, stay well. Allah Hafez।