Travel is never merely the act of moving from one place to another—it is the eternal yearning of the soul, a song of freedom rising from the heart. When we leave behind the suffocating dust, the relentless burdens, and the clamorous streets of the city to surrender ourselves to nature, the voyage becomes a living poem. In the winter of 2019, we too went in search of such a poem—to Saint Martin’s, Bangladesh’s one and only coral island.
Tales of the Blue Waters and the Coral Isle
Our Journey to Saint Martin’s (2019) — Rezwan Ahmed Suhrid
The First Call: An Invitation to the Road
When the Green Line’s gleaming Scania bus left behind the restless streets of Dhaka, it felt as though we were slowly journeying into a dream unknown. Outside, the dark highway sped past—flickers of lantern light and shopfronts glowing in the distance—while inside, our laughter, stories, and cheer turned the bus into the stage of our first festival. Familiar faces of family, the joy of close colleagues, and the shared thrill of setting out together made the air hum with multiplied delight.
Keari Sindbad, Jetty, Teknaf
After traveling through the night, the first light of dawn revealed Teknaf. The closer we came to the sea, the stronger the salty scent lingered in the air. And there, towering before us at the harbor, waited the great vessel—Keari Sindbad—as if summoning us to yet another adventure.
Companion of the Voyage, the Seagull
An Epic Across the Sea
The moment the ship loosened its hold and drifted from the shore, an indescribable feeling washed over us. The boundless blue stretched endlessly, waves swayed like verses in rhythm, and the golden light of the rising sun spilled across the horizon. The scene felt like nature itself had composed an epic upon the waters. Standing on the deck, we gazed in awe: some with wide-eyed wonder, some with a quiet joy, others with cameras chasing the fleeting beauty.
The Endless Sea, on the Way to Saint Martin’s
That four-hour journey was not merely a crossing of waters—it was a hymn of silence rising deep within. At times, we saw tiny fishing boats, mere dots adrift in the immensity of the ocean. The sight reminded us: however vast we may believe ourselves to be, before nature, we are but small, fragile beings.
Struggle upon the Waves
And then, breaking the horizon, appeared a green jewel of an island. Slowly it drew nearer—its white sands, its crown of coconut palms, its promise of paradise cradled in blue—the isle of Saint Martin.
Arrival: A Doorway to Another World
The moment we set foot upon the island, it felt like a rebirth. Here there was no rush of the city, no machinery’s harshness, no clamorous crowd. Only silence, the ocean’s eternal call, and the whisper of coconut leaves breathing in the breeze.
Sea Find Resort, East Beach, Coast Guard Road, Saint Martin’s
After resting briefly at the resort, our first introduction to the island began. Lunch awaited us like a feast of the sea—fried fish, crab, calamari, and rice with lentils, simple yet rich with the taste of waves and wind. With every bite, both body and spirit found new vigor.
Lunch, Sea Find Resort, Saint Martin’s
Later, we wandered to the eastern beach. The golden sun shimmered upon the blue waters. The waves touched our feet again and again, as if the sea itself was welcoming us. By evening, we reached the western beach and witnessed a sunset beyond compare. The sky flushed crimson, the sun sank into the ocean, and that sight etched itself forever in our eyes.
Sunset, West Beach, Saint Martin’s
When night fell, the resort prepared another celebration—a barbecue under the stars. The open sky, the sea breeze, and the fire’s glow over fresh-caught fish filled our night with pure joy. Laughter and companionship crowned the evening; that night remains the brightest memory of the first chapter of our journey.
Barbecue Party, Sea Find Resort, Saint Martin’s
The Enchantment of Chera Dwip
The next morning, the first rays of sunrise felt like the opening lines of a poem. The eastern sky blushed into gold, and the sea mirrored its light with trembling sparks. To awaken to the music of waves is a gift only the island bestows.
Sunrise, East Beach, Saint Martin’s
After breakfast, we set out for Chera Dwip. The small boat glided across the waters, as if we were but brushstrokes upon nature’s vast canvas. Upon reaching the island, walking in its crystal-clear waters felt like stepping into a dream itself.
Chera Dwip, Saint Martin’s
The waves crashing over coral, the glasslike water teeming with sea creatures, and the hushed stillness of the wind—all merged to make Chera Dwip a realm of enchantment. Taking photos, sitting in solitude on the shore, gazing at the infinite blue—time itself seemed to dissolve into the horizon.
With my wife, Chera Dwip, Saint Martin’s
Saint Martin taught us—one need not go far to find beauty; one must only have the courage to embrace nature. The blue waters, the coral isle, and the song of the sea still remind me: life itself is a journey, and every journey is a poem.
Samudra Bilash – Humayun Ahmed’s Dream Retreat in Daruchini Dwip
The Ache of Farewell
But like every journey, this too had its farewell. By afternoon, we boarded the ship once more. As the island slipped further behind, an emptiness stirred in our hearts. It felt as though something was left there—perhaps a laugh, perhaps the sea’s whisper, perhaps a piece of our very soul.
Morning Light in Daruchini Dwip
Even after returning to Dhaka by night’s long bus ride, it seemed the body had returned, but the heart was still adrift in the blue waters of the isle.
At Last: A Priceless Memory
That journey was not just a trip—it was a story of love, a bond of friendship, a poem of nature, and days of the purest joy. Even now, when I close my eyes, I hear the waves, I see the red glow of sunset, and my heart fills with memories of the island.
