Outline:
- I have been feeling rather tired, so rested for two days.
- Then I accepted invitation to go to Chittagong for three days.
- I enjoyed the new place and the different atmosphere.
- I returned home refreshed in mind and body.
The climate of Chittagong suits me well, but there is a time in the year, usually when the rainy season is well advanced, when I begin to feel tired. This year, I was feeling slack and not inclined for work, so I was quite pleased when my cousin Afzal, who had come down to have his eyes tested by an oculist, asked me to come back to Chittagong for a few days with him. My father gave permission, so I went off gladly.
I shall never forget my first impression of the lovely scenery of the hills. I had never before been far from Chittagong and pictures of hill scenery had altogether failed to convey to me a true picture of the beauty and majesty of the lofty. Slowly the train puffed its way up the slopes. There were other boys in the compartment, and they agreed that the engine was saying, ” I think I can”, slowly, and with effort. When it reached the top of a hill, and started to steam fast again, it was saying, ” I knew I could, I knew I could.”[the_ad id=”17141″]
But the hills covered with noble trees and picturesque rocks’ and great valleys lying in between, all combined to fill my mind with a sense of awe and admiration. I am told that there is more impressive scenery in the Sunder Ban Chittagong Hills but nothing will make me forget the rapture of that first sight of the deodar trees.
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My uncle’s house is just outside Dacca, and we went frequently for walks across the open country. I found at once a great difference in the air. It seemed to be Dacca stimulating, more refreshing. Frequently I was not content to walk but had to run a little from pure joy of living. The splendid mangoes of Shujabad were no longer available, the season being too late for them, but I tasted some of the finest figs, have ever enjoyed.
Dacca is a fresh clean city, and the pure airs, always sweep through the streets. I thought of the old Nawabs who once ruled in this part of Pakistan and I was taken to see the old Islamia College and the Government College. There is a dignity and a special air about this centre of Islamic culture. It was as if the week I spent there passed like a cinema film which had been shown much too fast, and I regretted having to leave, thought cheered with a promise that I should return in the coming summer and perhaps even visit the neighboring beauty spot of Chittagong Hills.