Khoda haphez, Bangladesh

Tonight, 2 years and 7 months after arriving, I leave Bangladesh with no idea if or when I might return. And yet, it somehow doesn't feel like goodbye. Neither my heart nor my head are convinced that I won't be back. I really feel like Bangladesh is now somehow a part of me and that I couldn't possibly live out the rest of my life without returning to this place that has captured my heart over the last few years.

There is so much to process about my time here and my feelings about leaving, and yet there is so much to do when leaving that I've had no time to process. The coming days, weeks and months will surely be full of thoughts about life in and after le Bang.

I would imagine that this will give me lots to write about. So if you are still patient enough to be checking the ol' blog from time to time, hopefully you'll be rewarded with some reflections or memories of all the things that happened that I never found time to write about.

Last night at 2am I was awoken by a rainstorm. Perhaps a monsoon. It's about the time for them to take over the skies. I got out of bed to look out the window at the sheets of gray drops and the wind shaking the tall palms, the fruit-bearing mangoes, the red krishna churas. I can't quite explain why, but it was like the perfect goodbye; not because I dislike the rain, but because I have come to love it so much. In a bittersweet way, it reassured me that it is time to leave, to let go of that which I love here, at least for a while.

Bangladesh,

Onek dhonnobad
Bhalo takhun
Abar dekha hobe