Just 15–20 kilometers away from the concrete sprawl of Dhaka, I came across an enchanting scene during a morning cycle ride. A woman in a black veil walked gracefully along the kans grass, bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun filtering through the mystic fog. The atmosphere felt timeless, almost otherworldly. Yet, a sadness lingered in me—this land is changing rapidly, swallowed by university campuses and industrialization. Perhaps next year, the kans grass will be gone, and these women will no longer walk here in the quiet of dawn.
Where the Kans Grass Fades.
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Thank you so much.
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