We continue with the adventure...

Chapter Two Tea Garden, Sylhet

The arrival into Sylhet wasn't as bad as everyone had thought. The ride was sure bumpy, but the gigantic coach had taken much of the beating instead of the passengers. The scenery along the way was fascinating with rivers, huge wetlands called haors, fisheries, rice mills, mud and straw houses forming part of the natural view. To Zaynab it felt as though what she had been reading in books had really come to life. Sylhet looked absolutely stunning with its tropical forests and famous tea gardens. The British had passed on the tea plantations from the 19th century. They were a great heritage as it made Sylhet prosper immensely, but more importantly it gave rise to the beautiful, lush green landscape, which, was breathtaking and picturesque. “Children! Look over there! You can see the tea-pluckers,” shouted Dad. “Yeah, they look so gorgeous and colourful, it looks like they're all women,” muttered Zaynab. “Yes, the women mainly pluck the tea leaves, while the men do the more tougher jobs like farming and construction work here,” explained Mum. “Wow, Mum! Look at the different colour sarees they're wearing, it looks stunning against all the greenness they're surrounded in,” observed Zaynab. “Bless them, they work ever so hard and for terribly long hours too,” said Mum. “But I'm sure they get free tea everyday!” muttered Zaynab's brother. “You'd be surprised, son, some of these poor workers have never tasted the tea they've been plucking for years,” explained Dad. “They are for commercial use and workers can't really take these home. Besides, they need to go through a mechanical process to turn the leaves into the tea that we drink.” “Oh, well, hope they get some good money for doing this job then.” “Not really, they probably earn around a hundred takas per day, that's like a pound each day. So life is tough for them here,” explained Dad. “We need to appreciate their hard work and thank Allah that we're not going through the painstaking work they're going through,” urged Dad. And so the family spent a few moments contemplating and thanking Allah by offering a silent prayer. The coach had arrived at Uposhohor Road. The trip from Dhaka was now complete. In front of them was the tall and glamorous Garden Tower building, which offered many facilities for children and adults. Zaynab remembered her mum saying something about a swimming pool and a children's games room. “Wow, it certainly looks like a posh place this; look Zaynab, look at all the turquoise glass from top to bottom of this building, just looks incredible,” called out Zaynab's brother. “Yeah, looks very nice, but more than that, I can't wait to jump in that pool. I wonder how big and deep it is?” asked Zaynab. “Not really sure about the size, we'll just have to find out everyone,” stated Dad. Moments later, the whole family checked in to their spacious apartment, pulled in their luggage and began to rest for a while. “There's no time to waste! I don't know about you lot, but I'm heading right for the pool,” declared Dad. “I want to go,” yelled Zaynab's brother. “I want to go too,” yelled Zaynab. And so, both of them hopped along with their dad to the Garden Tower swimming pool. It looked like Zaynab's mum had other plans and wasn't interested in going back out in a hurry. She was too busy thinking about how to organise the rooms so it looked welcoming and neat. The rooms just looked too messy. There were clothes; bags and luggage simply dropped all over in the frantic rush. She got busy unpacking properly while Zaynab's younger brother played quietly with his lego. Garden Tower apartments had all the facilities that anyone could ask for. There were all types of shops on the ground floor - there was a sports shop, swimming baths, and a large hall, which had all the table games like pool, ping pong, carom board and ice hockey. It instantly felt cosy and welcoming and the family had no trouble whatsoever adjusting to the life in the urban and lively town of Sylhet. The apartment itself was situated on a busy road, which simply meant easy access to the main shopping malls and restaurants. It was the perfect place for a family from England. It was a bustling metropolitan city with lots to see and discover. “Can we go out to some shops now?” asked Zaynab. “Yeah, we haven't eaten anything for ages, I want to go to a restaurant,” bellowed her brother. “Well of course we're gonna eat and we'll visit shops too, but all in good time, children,” reassured Dad. It wasn't long before two rickshaws parked up right in front of the tower, ready to take Zaynab's family to the big shopping malls. Rickshaws were like giant tricycles and were very easy to come by near the busy road. They were easier to use for accessing the inner market alleys. Zaynab's dad thought it would be nice to bond with the Sylheti culture and where possible utilised rickshaws and CNGs. CNGs were a mix between a rickshaw and a British milk float. It had three wheels and some people simply called it the auto rickshaw. It seemed like there were more CNGs on the road than any other vehicle. “Why do all those green cars have weird names on them?” asked Zaynab. “Those green cars are called CNGs or you could call them auto rickshaws if you want. And what do you mean by weird names on them?” questioned Dad. “Well, I've seen one that says, 'fortune city' another that said 'mother's love' and look over there now, there's one going past, it says:'Tajmahal'. I mean these sound so random, what's that all about?” Zaynab asked curiously. “My word, girl! You do pick out some tedious things, people just write on them phrases that are important to them, that's all,” explained Dad. “Well maybe the person who's named the 'fortune city' CNG, wishes one day they become rich and have a fortune!” joked Zaynab. “Well, maybe, that was the reason behind it. But I agree, it does sound a little weird!” added Dad with a smug smile. “There's about sixteen big shopping centres in Sylhet, which one shall we go to?” announced Dad scrolling through a miniature map of the shopping malls. “Go on, read some of them out, and the one that sounds nicest, we'll go to that,” shouted everyone. “Erm...there's Al-Hambra Shopping City, Sylhet Plaza, Blue Water Shopping City, Sylhet Millennium Mall, Shukria Market...What do you think?” asked Dad. “Go on Dad, read out a few more then?” “Well, there's also the Karim Ullah Market, Garden Tower Shopping Mall, One City, and there's also the Manru Shopping City,” he further added. “Well, I like Blue Water Shopping City,” called out Zaynab's brother. “I like the sound of Al-Hambra Shopping City,” said Zaynab. “I think Sylhet Millennium Mall sounds better, let's go there,” insisted Mum. “Never mind asking you lot, I knew the choices wouldn't match. Let's just go to all three, hey!” decided Dad and off they headed towards the busy shopping complex. The short trip to the malls provided a chance to see Sylhet in its full glory. The endless rows of shops, cafes, restaurants and fast food outlets were all bustling with people. There were congested roads and people haggling in every store. The rickshaws travelled at a brisk pace and the cool breeze was soothing in the sweltering heat. “I think we'll stop here,” shouted Zaynab's dad and gestured to the second rickshaw to do the same. They were now right opposite the Blue Water Shopping City.