Hakaluki <i>in Rain</i>

Boat on the Haor. Photo: Ihtisham Kabir

I had planned the trip with much anticipation. An engine boat would wait for me early morning at the ghat of Kushiara river in Fenchuganj. From there, I would set out to explore Hakaluki Haor – the site of hunting adventures from my childhood. Although hunting has long been banned, I looked forward to revisiting this beautiful place.
Hakaluki Haor is the largest haor in Bangladesh. Its 18000 hectares of land goes underwater in the rainy season; in winter the submerged area shrinks to 4000 hectares. About 190,000 people living around it draw their livelihood from the haor, mostly from fishing, agriculture and duck-raising.
It was raining heavily on the appointed morning. I had second thoughts about boarding the boat but quickly brushed them aside recalling the photographer's dictum: bad weather makes good pictures. When I arrived at the ghat, the rain had reduced to a drizzle; the sky, however, was dark and menacing. I crawled inside the cabin to stow my equipment, then stepped outside under an umbrella.
“Be careful with your camera if it gets windy, because the waves can get high – it is open water,” Shafiq, the boatman warned me.
Travelling down the Kushiara, I saw the riverside buildings of Fenchuganj vanish in the distance as we turned eastward into the Juri river. The Kushiara was well-defined with steep banks; the Juri seemed much wider, its banks blending into the horizon. Presently Shafiq told me that we had entered the haor. For me, it was impossible to tell where the river ended and the haor began; all I could see was an endless body of water, with the Borlekha hills on the far eastern edge. However, boatmen who ply these waters understand these demarcations very well.
Hakaluki haor, once a duck-hunter's paradise, is now a destination for birders during winter, when numerous migrant birds descend on its waters. Among the birds is the rare bar-headed goose. The haor also has 107 species of fish, including rui, boal and chapila.
Birding and fishing take place in winter. Now, in monsoon, it was like an ocean, big and empty. Every once in a while, a pankouri (cormorant) flew by, looking for fish. These birds dive for fish and can stay underwater for several minutes. Cheels (Brahminy kites) rested on demarcation poles that were jutting out from the water. Better at scavenging than hunting, they circled overhead looking for food.
Large and small islands of trees dotted the haor. Trees that survive underwater thrive here. These include hijol, koros and borun. At the edge of a village, a group of people took shelter under trees as they waited for a boat to ferry them across.
Fishing boats were few and far-between. Fish are not easy to catch at this time, and they were mostly catching gura fish, basically very small fish such as kechki and puti. A man on a tiny island of grass herded his flotilla of ducks for feeding.
The rain stopped but clouds remained dark and menacing, threatening rain at any moment, their dramatic light accentuating my photographs. Soon it was time to leave, and so I bid goodbye to the beautiful haor, hoping to return another day.

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