The 1959 film version of Manik Bandopadhyay's novel Padma Nodir Majhi as Jago Hua Savera opens with a spectacular scene. The camera takes a long aerial shot of the river Padma just after daybreak. The camera pans slowly -hundreds of sleek country boats with billowing sails move languidly in the mid-river. The boats are returning to the villages; the boatmen are tired after catching hilsa throughout the night.
When it comes to framing a river-scene composition, the shot may be considered as one of the most memorable ones in the history of cinema in the sub-continent.
No matter how hard one tries, one cannot re-enact these days a Bangladesh river scene filled with sailed boats or various types of dinghies. The traditional wooden boats have been made to say bye to our rivers, and make way for engine boats.
Leave alone the large rivers, even our serpentine tributaries and flowing canals do not see much country boats these days. In their place, one will find scores of engine boats, run on fuel oil, frequently travelling on their short and long routes. The tranquillity of the rivers, punctuated by the faint rustle of waves, appears to have gone for ever. The monotonous sound of the boat engines has devoured the auditory peace that used to prevail in the rivers and the nearby villages. Many dub it a sequel to the demand of time. To be politically correct, others pay their tributes to science. It is science that has driven out a lot of traditional practices. Don't we see this phenomenon in many aspects of our day-to-day life too?
The debate goes on highlighting that nobody, barring the obstinate fools, denies the benefits of science. Yet, the people of this country, living entwined with nature for ages, are frightened to see the mindless aggression of machine. They welcome the mechanised boats, because they have to. These boats save time for them by enhancing the speed of travel. They now can make the most of a day's schedules, which was unthinkable a few years ago. Engine boats have ushered a veritable revolution in their lives.
In spite of all these merits of modern technology, vis-à-vis boats, it does not take long for them to realise the bleaker aspect of this transport. They do not need scientific tools to discover the extent of river-water pollution caused by oil seeped from these boats. River water even in many remote rural areas has long become unsuitable for use. Yet once upon a time, people in our villages depended on rivers for drinking water and bathing. Rows of rural women in wet saris, water-filled earthen pitchers on a side of their upper waist, were a common sight in the villages beside rivers. Those days have slipped into the abyss of nostalgic oblivion.
To the solace of many, country boats using baithas (paddles) or bamboo poles are still seen in some parts of the country, mostly in the outlying areas. In the wild rush of motor launches, trawlers or commercial speed boats, you might spot a small, worn-out country boat trapped there appallingly. Or noticing a Kosha (tiny country boat) with sail defiantly crossing the Meghna, or the Shitalakkhya, cannot also be ruled out. To make a tongue-in-cheek comment, these are exceptions or oxymoron. They cannot be the order of the day. Yet many cannot forget the country's heritage. They remind us that Bengali folklore is full of romances involving lone lady passengers and young Casanovas operating ferry boats.
In reality, the Goodara Ghats or ferry points - or the very boats - once played a vital role in our rural life. The Goodara boats are now fast being replaced with those run on engine. It is the financially insolvent boatmen who are still carrying passengers between the river banks on wooden dinghies. After all, they have to invest huge sums on buying diesel or fuel oils. But the human muscle doesn't require anything that needs extra costs. However, they do need higher nutrition that comes from wholesome food. Who will provide them with it? The only way out: cling to the profession in one or the other way -- and accept the assaults of reality.
In the face of collective resistance from the country-boat owners, engine-run ferry boats could not manage much of a space at the Buriganga boat terminals. Elsewhere in the country too, a handful of country boats ply the river routes. Some carry passengers. Some cargoes. Sweet water fishing, especially if it involves netting hilsa, needs country boats.
Can we forget the massive cargo boats with 3- to 4-tier colourful sails that used to glide on our rivers? We can't, but they have disappeared.
With the vanishing of the country boats, we are losing the natural gifts of our rivers. Apart from the leisurely, gossipy hours on the boats, we are also bidding farewell to the Bhatiali and other river-related traditional songs. Slow speed irritates us. These days everybody loves to go faster than others. All of us are in a hurry.
In our mad frenzied rush, we get oblivious of the many hazards that stalk us. We seem to boast about the fact that our rivers now look smart with the speeding engine boats dotting them. Why bother about river pollution, boat accidents or damages done to nature?
The modern times teach us how to exploit speed. And become practical.
shihabskr@ymail.com
The vanishing country boats
Shihab Sarkar | Published: July 22, 2014 00:00:00 | Updated: November 30, 2026 06:01:00
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