Steemians
I'm @mhsnrasel from Bangladesh.
Assalamualaikum alaikum everyone. Welcome to my another blog. In today's blog I'm going to share a little story of a train journey khokhsa to kalukhali .
All aboard the laugh train! The experience of a ride from Khoksa to Kalukhali on the train in Bangladesh is a laugh-out-loud moment in not killing it with too much rural adorableness, snack salesmen, and Beryl Cook-esque greens so green it'd green the town with envy lime. This 30-40 minute flash hop, train's scenic doze time excepted, is seat-to-seat to Bangladesh countryside's fancies and whims (double fancies, one might say) So buy your ticket, chase off the overly excited jhal muri vendor, and whizz through paddy fields from Khoksa to Kalukhali with smiles!
The Journey: A Rollercoaster on Rails
Picture this: you’re at Khoksa Railway Station, clutching a ticket that cost less than your morning coffee (roughly 50-150 BDT, depending on whether you’re fancy enough for AC or slumming it in Shovon class). The platform is a circus—vendors hawking spicy snacks, kids running wild, and that one guy who’s definitely packed his entire kitchen into a sack. The train, which in all probability will be some shiny Intercity express or some rattling old Mail/Express that sticks its massive red snout into the face of each and every cow, puffs into station like a street audition for a role in a period costume drama.
You get on (or just stand on the platform if you did not reserve), the train emits a blast, and away you go. The windows flash by a slideshow of Bangladesh countryside: rolling rice paddies, an occasionally side-glaring buffalo, and rivers that glitter on command. The clackety-clack of the tracks is reassuring—until some fool breaks the mood with an ear-splitting volume of Bengali pop music on a phone. Tip: pack earplugs or contribute to the spontaneous karaoke.
Khoksa: Where Chickens Outnumber Tourists
Khoksha Station
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Khoksa, in Kushtia District, is the kind of place where you’re more likely to bump into a goat than a guidebook-toting traveler. This small town is the starting point of our journey, and it’s got character in spades:
Lalon Shah's legacy: Khoksa falls within the purview of Lalon Shah, the mystic poet whose Baul songs are melodramatically sentimentalized to the extent that they'd put a tractor into motion crying. You'd hear a villager strumming an antique dotara and dancing in harmony to Lalon's rhythm—picture the nation's own ad-hoc open-mic.
Market Madness: The town market is a color bomb, scent party, and haggle fest. Want mango so ripe that it needs to be wiped off your face with a towel? Yours. Want a hand-woven basket to put said mango and tot around your existential crisis? They've got that too. Just don't even gaze at the chickens—that's about who the town's unofficial mayors are.
Green Overload: Khoksa’s surrounded by fields so lush you’ll wonder if someone cranked up the saturation filter on real life.
Station Shenanigans: Khoksa Railway Station is a crazyhouse and a treat. Grab a glass of cha (sweeter than dessert) from a street vendor and eavesdrop on locals debating cricket or potatoes.
As you enter the train, hold on long enough to acclimatize to the pace of Khoksa. It is like opening a postcard in which everybody knows everybody except you, that dolt newbie who did not forget to forget bug spray.
Kalukhali: Where Time Takes a Coffee Break
The train arrives in Kalukhali, Rajbari District, and one feels that one has arrived at the laid-back party-crazy cousin's house after that party at Khoksa. The town is so laid-back that it can quite comfortably be doing the hammock thing. Here's what's the story:
- Farming Frenzy: Kalukhali is all about agriculture—rice, jute, and veggies grow like they’re on a mission to feed the nation. The fields are so green you’ll wonder if they’re secretly sponsored by a paint company.
- Market Mayhem: Markets are a live fish bazaar of dainty china and music so loud it will blow a rock concert. You're among the lucky few if you get fortunate to chance upon something like Pohela Boishakh, when everybody is dancing, eating, and faking to know the old-time songs.
- Padma River Vibes: Kalukhali is literally a stone's throw away from the gigantic Padma River, where one can sit and observe fishermen casting their magic or boats zooming by as if racing to reach somewhere. It's a good place to daydream being in introspective, brooding mode and slapping away mosquitoes.
How to Survive the Train Journey
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- Train Options: Take an Intercity train if you don't care about a leisurely trip and possibly wind in your hair with the A/C on. Mail/Express trains cost less but stop so frequently, you can write a book before you get there. Check schedules on amartrain.com or try ticket counter chaos.
- Shoestring Tickets: Extremely low-priced—50-150 BDT. That is scarcely more than a design coffee. Pre-book in Intercity trains if it's not a seat concern.
- Pack Smart: Pack water, food (no train food exists), and a camera for your Insta fields. A fan or a scarf is heaven for non-AC coaches—trust me, it is hot.
- When to Go: Monsoon (June-September) turns rural into an emerald fantasy, but winter (November-February) is pretty and won't likely rain on your parade by visiting Kalukhali.
- Do and See Kalukhali: Rickshaw (haggle hard!) or take a walk down to the Padma River. Ask locals fairs and festival dates—those with it in their datebook will spill the beans before you utter "mishti."
The Khoksa to Kalukhali train ride is like a sitcom episode set in rural Bangladesh—full of quirky characters, unexpected laughs, and scenery that steals the show. You’ll dodge snack vendors, marvel at fields that look Photoshopped, and maybe even make a new friend who insists on sharing their pitha (rice cakes). It’s not just a commute; it’s a crash course in Bangladesh’s soul, served with a side of chaos and charm.
So the next time you need some low-budget amusement, jump on. Don't scream at me, though, if you find yourself knee-deep in a heap of jhal muri on your back and with an intense need to leap out of a village and run. Chug on, buddy!
Happy (and jolly) travels!