Published: 08:27 PM, 14 December 2025
In Rhythm with Nature: On the Way to Kaptai
Nature has its own music — played not by instruments, but by rhythm, rule, and the pulse of life itself. The murmur of the river, the whisper of leaves, the patter of rain on tin roofs, the first beam of dawn over a silent hill — all blend into an ethereal orchestra, where every note is divine. My story with this celestial symphony began in a little village named Hosnabad, under Rangunia, a place of boundless beauty, where I first opened my eyes to the world. I feel truly blessed to have been born there — cradled by nature’s tender arms. The love for her—born in my childhood heart—never withered. Not even beneath the clogging scent of concrete, not even amid the restless roar of city chaos. It lives still quiet, steadfast, like a wildflower that remembers the sun.
Rangunia—my homeland—is a hidden jewel of Bangladesh, sculpted by the hands of the Creator Himself. Endless emerald fields stretch like whispers of eternity, while trees scatter along the gentle slopes, their leaves shimmering in secret sunlight. A slender river winds and twists, weaving a silver thread through the hills, and rows of trees fade softly into the horizon, painting a living masterpiece that breathes, smiles, and hums with life. Here, the morning dew falls like liquid poetry, sparkling on every blade of grass. The afternoon breeze drifts lazily, carrying a song of love that lingers in your soul. And when night descends, the stars sprinkle ancient secrets across the sky, whispering tales forgotten by time, inviting you to dream.
Chandroghona, another heaven in my heart, a place whose beauty silences words before they can speak. It lies along the way to Kaptai, where hills gently embrace the river, kissing its silver-lit waters, creating a scene of otherworldly wonder. The river Karnafuli flows with a whisper of blue and green, carrying within its current an old tale of the hills. Long ago, a young hill maiden lost her earring in its gentle waters. From that tender moment, the river found its name — Karnafuli, the river born from a girl’s lost adornment, Karnafuli- where love, legend, and nature flow as one. In my golden college days, I wandered there aimlessly, caught between the hush of the hills and the gentle murmur of water, living a half-waking dream where the world felt surreal, and every heartbeat sang with wonder.
In the soft rhythm of this tranquil land, a longing often called out from within — “Let’s go to Kaptai.” The road from Rangunia to Kaptai feels like a romantic invitation — winding, gentle, full of promise. Hills rise on both sides like guardians of a dream, rivers flash their silver smiles between them, and the air, raw and cool, flutters around you like the wings of a butterfly. This journey is the perfect appetizer — once you travel this path, your heart refuses to stop until it reaches the serene embrace of Kaptai Lake.
Arriving at Kaptai is like stepping into a painting where every color has come alive. The lake stretches deep and blue, its waters mirroring the emerald hills that cradle it like a lover’s arms. A gentle breeze skims the surface, teasing ripples that dance in sunlight, while wisps of smoke drift lazily from distant boats, curling like quiet secrets into the sky. The beauty is so profound it blurs the line between reality and dream—one moment you feel awake, the next you are drifting in daydream. I have sailed from Kaptai to Rangamati countless times, yet each voyage feels less like a journey and more like turning the pages of a living legend, where the hills breathe, the water sings, and the world itself whispers its timeless magic. Kaptai—the deep blue jewel, sculpted by human hands yet blessed by nature—is, to me, one of the most exquisite lakes on Earth, a place where the soul can float and forget the weight of the world.
Sitting at the bow of country boat, feeling the spray of Kaptai’s waters kiss my face, I sense that the very hand of the Divine has reached out to touch me. This is no ordinary lake — here, the sky seems to have melted into the hills, draping the world in serene shades of blue and green. Sunlight pirouettes across the waves like laughter caught in motion, while the hills cradle the water in a silent, tender embrace. As clouds descend, the lake transforms into a misty dreamscape, where the boundaries of water and earth blur into a soft, mysterious, almost sacred blue. Every ripple carries a secret, every boat glides through a liquid poem, and each moment afloat feels less like travel and more like wandering through a living painting, suspended in time.
Kaptai—the artificial deep-blue jewel carved into the hills—is, to me, one of the most breathtaking lakes in the world. A journey across it is not merely a voyage; it is a pilgrimage through a landscape where the soul can float, lose itself, and awaken to wonder.
I have seen the oceans of America, the lakes of England, the mountains of Africa — all magnificent in their own way. Yet nowhere have I found beauty that touches the soul quite like Kaptai. Europe’s landscapes are like galleries — neat, polished, made for admiration. But Kaptai is poetry — raw, alive, and whispering to the wanderer, “Write me, if you can. ”As the journey unfolds, playful thoughts often drift through my mind. Sometimes I feel like a philosopher bird — no destination, only the joy of flight. Sometimes I feel like the hero of a film, lost in the embrace of nature’s arms, while the smiling boatman hums his tune and says, “Sir, even the waves are laughing with you!”
The voyage from Kaptai to Rangamati is not just a journey — it’s a transformation. The sound of waves washes away the dust of daily life — office files, city traffic, family burdens — all fade into silence. You begin to rediscover yourself, as if peace, long lost, has quietly returned. The water, the hills, the air — they all whisper, “Look, how beautiful creation is! Take a pause, see the artistry of the Almighty.” For those whose days dissolve into spreadsheets and deadlines, or whose hearts feel heavy under life’s duties, Kaptai and Rangamati are not mere destinations — they are therapy for the soul. There you realize that nature is not just for the eyes; it’s a spiritual teacher.
Indeed, nature teaches in silence — rivers teach flow, trees teach patience, hills teach strength, and the sky teaches infinity. After the journey, one truth glows clear — no matter how far we roam, peace begins where we were born — in the rivers, hills, and smiles of Rangunia.
So, if ever life feels too heavy — if the city’s noise grows unbearable and your heart thirsts for calm — take the road from Chattogram through Rangunia, towards Kaptai and beyond to Rangamati. Listen to the river’s song, touch the stillness of the hills, and remember — “Nature is not just to be seen; she is to be felt — in the rhythm of your heart and the music of your soul.”
Pen & Ink by: Group Captain Enamul Haque (Rtd), [Additional Registrar (General) Aviation and Aerospace University, Bangladesh]
