A Dreamy Morning in the Hills

A Dreamy Morning in the Hills

For months, our hearts had been quietly growing the desire to flee to the hills. We had all been longing for a true break—a breath of fresh air—with office deadlines, academic stress, and the everyday noise of Dhaka. So, six of us friends packed our belongings, slung them on our backpacks, and boarded a bus to Bandarban, one of the most picturesque districts in southeastern Bangladesh, on a crisp Friday morning. We left at 5 a.m., just as the sleepy city began to see the first light of day. A light mist covered the almost empty streets. In contrast to its usual roar, Dhaka appeared oddly tranquil, like a lion resting before the hunt. With headphones in and my eyes wide open, I chose the window seat. The rising sun created orange and pink hues in the sky as we drove through the suburbs. I drifted off to sleep slowly to the beat of the bus and the sun's warmth.

When I woke up, we were already winding our way through hilly terrain. The landscape had changed entirely—lush green hills on either side, rivers glimmering in the distance, and tiny bamboo huts nestled among the slopes. At that precise moment, I was aware that nature had welcomed us. We reached Bandarban town by midday. We had a quick lunch at a local eatery—rice, lentils, and freshly fried fish—and arranged a jeep to take us to Ruma, a small village from where the real adventure would begin. The road to Ruma was wild and beautiful, with winding paths, deep valleys, and the occasional monkey crossing our way. It was like riding a roller coaster through the clouds on the jeep ride itself.

We were greeted by Ruma Bazaar's rustic charm. From there, we began our trek to Bogalake, a hidden gem perched high in the hills. We were energized by the crisp mountain air and the rustling of the leaves, despite the initially steep and uneven path. We went over bamboo groves, bamboo bridges, and tiny streams that felt like they were made by nature. Birdsong and the hushed hum of the forest seemed to take the place of the city's hum with each step. We ran into an elderly local guide who was full of stories and had a sun-kissed face. He told us stories about the lake, the tribes that lived there, and the spirits that guarded the mountains as we hiked. He stated, "These hills don't just exist; they breathe, listen, and remember."

Reaching Bogalake took us nearly four hours. And when we did, it felt worth every aching step and drop of sweat. The lake appeared suddenly, like a secret the hills had been hiding. The calm blue water reflected the sky above, surrounded by tall green peaks. We stood there in silence, taking it all in. It was humbling as well as beautiful. Our cottage for the night was right beside the lake. a veranda that opened directly to the water, a thatched roof, and simple bamboo walls. We freshened up after settling in, sat quietly with our feet dangling over the edge, and watched the sun set behind the hills. The sky took on a golden, crimson, and finally twilight hue.

Our hosts prepared a straightforward dinner of mountain chicken, lentils, and herbs from the area. It tasted divine, whether it was the hunger from trekking or the magic of the hills. We gathered on the veranda, blanketed, after dinner to drink hot tea under a star-studded sky. We could see the entire Milky Way above us because there were no city lights to distract us. That night, we didn’t need entertainment. There are no phones or other sources of distraction. Silence, laughter, and conversations all at once. The kind of silence that speaks louder than words. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. There were crickets. Also, it seemed like time stopped.

I awoke the following morning just before sunrise and went to the lake. The sky was turning soft pink as a gentle mist hung over the water. As the sun rose, it touched the lake with golden light, making it shimmer like glass. My friends went out on a boat on the lake with me. I sat alone on a rock, taking deep breaths. I didn't need words, pictures, or music. Just right now. Reality beckoned us back, no matter how much we wanted to remain. By afternoon, we began our return trek to Ruma. Maybe because our hearts were lighter, the descent felt easier. We stopped at a cold spring on the way and laughed until our sides hurt as we splashed around like kids.

We took the night bus to Dhaka after returning to Bandarban town. We were overwhelmed with joy, gratitude, and a strange longing, not because we were tired. We were quiet. We longed for the magic to continue.

Epilogue

This was not merely a vacation. It was a reminder of how small we are in front of nature and how much peace lies in simplicity. The hills didn’t just give us views; they gave us silence, perspective, and memories that will live forever in the corners of our minds.

I'll close my eyes and think of that still lake, those still trees, and the stars above Bogalake when life gets too loud again.