River Rocket Ride

I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about riding the “Rocket,” an orange paddle wheel boat that plies the Bengali riverways from Dhaka to Khulna.

I can’t say that I’m too fond of boats to begin with. Plus in this case, the boat was built in 1938. I mean, this fossil was doing river runs before my grandfather laid eyes on my grandmother, let alone told her how pretty she looked. The boat, from my perspective, was ancient.

And it was an overnight trip. It’s one thing to be awake for this; quite another to entrust your sleep to it.

Ah, but the adventure of it all. Irresistible.

So I bought a ticket. A first-class cabin, no less (if I’m going down, I’m determined to do it in style.) And at 5:30 in the afternoon, my backpack and I made our way through the massive rush-hour congestion of Old Dhaka on the back of a bicycle rickshaw to the river dock of Saderghat, all the more exotic and chaotic by the fading light of dusk.

Through the hustle and bustle of the port, with throngs of passengers, bags, porters and goods all pushing their way on or off boats. Down the wooden plank (yes, an actual plank) and onto the Rocket.

The ship has three classes: the eight first class cabins are in the front of the ship, cabin doors opening inside to a central dining / lounge area, and include access to the front deck as well as to separate first-class toilets (relatively speaking). Six second class cabins are in the rear of the ship, cabin doors opening to the outside, and have their own toilets as well (but no dining/lounge).

Then there’s deck class. There are two levels of plain deck, where hundreds of passengers crowd together on blankets and bags and spend the journey on the ship’s floor, carving out whatever amount of space they can wherever they can find it (without crossing into either first or second class areas). Walking around, I saw people jammed together and sleeping in every which corner, including in the dark, damp and unnaturally loud halls of the engine room. As for toilets…you do not want to go anywhere near the deck class toilets.

It is difficult to describe the journey. Beautifully haunting was the departure, paddling past the ghostly ship-breaking yards by moonlight, the Rocket blowing its horn to warn smaller boats of its approach and its lone searchlight occasionally switched on to scan ahead through the light river mist.

By moonlight we traveled, the ship minimizing the use of external lights in order to preserve the pilot’s night vision. Seeing the shapes of the buildings and factories on the shore by twilight, soon replaced by the dark foliage of jungle.

In some places the river opened up so wide that neither shore could be seen, creating a sensation of paddling on into dark infinity. In others, tiny little wooden boats with solitary lanterns atop their canopy slowly parted at our approach, like fireflies languidly drifting to either side in the wind, fishermen working by night to earn their living.

When I could stay awake no longer, I quickly fell asleep to the rhythmic chugging sound and vibration of the paddles, the calm river offering surprisingly little rocking motion.

Dawn came through the fog, softening the scenery and landscape to a magical, mystical land of white. In patches, the fog became too dense to continue, and the paddles stopped, the ship slowly coasting forward in a silent slide in a timeless sea of white. Then a tree in the distance would be glimpsed, almost a dream, then another, and eventually enough of an outline of the banks to start the engines again and continue on.

On the forward observation deck, the waiter brought a hot cup of milk tea, the delicious hot liquid countering the foggy river’s early morning chill, and as I sipped and leaned out on the railing to observe the shrouded riverways ahead, I pondered on all the amazing beautiful things in this world kept secret.

A magical journey. And over almost before it began, the hours passed in the blink of an eye. Seventy one years this ship has been prowling these river waters, and I sincerely hope that others will have the good fortune to savor such an experience in another seventy one.