The vast expanse of ocean crashes onto the shore, in the pristine beach of Kuakata, and tracks from the wheels break the perfect mirrored reflection of the sky.
Life here is hard, the burden is shared by all family members regardless of age and sex. They live, grow and die in water. Every dawn they make their way out to the waves, sometimes for many days and nights before coming back to the shores. The reverence for the ocean often translates into fear. The ocean which sustains their life brings death in many ways. The uncertainty is lethal, silent, and deafening.
Kuakata, a beach in Bangladesh is a scenic beauty, where long strips of dark, marbled sand stretch for eternity. It is home to thousands of families who lives off the coast as fishermen. The shore is often a victim of massive hurricanes such as Aila and Sidr who strike without mercy and diminishes the populace living far below the poverty line.
I have felt the soothing breeze on my skin, I have experienced the cold breath of the boy standing there for all of his life.