In a city where the Quran's teaching to 'be kind to travelers' is upheld.

Leaving the bustle of Kolkata behind, I boarded a night bus. The bus roared through the darkness, eventually reaching the banks of a massive river. From here on, the bus itself would board a ferry to cross the water.

A loud whistle blew, and the bus slowly slid onto the ferry. The river, floating in the dark night, was infinitely deep and vast, its surface murky like mud. The ferry swayed as it moved across the river, and as I surrendered myself to the motion, I was swallowed by anxiety about this new place called Dhaka.

Dhaka.
This is a city overflowing with people, said to have the highest population density in the world. The moment I stepped off the bus, the thick, humid air clung to my body. The smell of exhaust, sweat, and spices mingled together, striking deep into my lungs.

I don't get the impression that Bangladesh is terribly poor compared to other Asian countries. Of course, there are many alleys that aren't clean due to neglected trash, and many simple storefronts. But there is more vitality than that.

Walking through the streets of Dhaka, I often encounter sudden squalls. As the rain began to pour with a roar, I had no choice but to take shelter under an eave. Then, a voice called out from somewhere: 'Come over here, why don't you have some chai?'

As I followed the invitation, a crowd formed in an instant. As if I were a member of the family, they urged me to eat this and that, one after another. The sweet, fragrant scent of chai warmed my rain-soaked body.

In India, I often felt the glinting gaze of people expecting business or a reward behind their kindness. I met many people who, later on, would display a business-minded tenacity, latching onto me like piranhas, saying, 'I'll give you a friend price, so why don't you buy this?'

But in Bangladesh, it is different.
After chatting for a while, once the rain stopped, they would say, 'Well, bye-bye. If you come to this country again, be sure to get in touch,' and bid me a simple farewell. Even when I tried to offer a token of thanks, they would just shake their heads with a smile. Their generosity was as boundless as the sky covering the earth.

Perhaps one reason is that there are still few tourists and travelers. But that is not all. The fact that this is a Muslim country is also a major factor. I hear that the Quran states one should be kind to travelers. Their kindness is rooted in faith, coming from the bottom of their hearts.

Was kindness always this pure?
Was kindness that seeks no reward always this heart-warming? In the streets of Dhaka, I felt I had touched upon the warmth of the human heart that I had begun to forget. And I felt I had caught a glimpse of what the true richness of this country is.

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—Ah, once again, a soliloquy in a strange foreign land.