I live in Dhaka, a city where everyone is busy with their own lives. Amid this hustle, there are very few places to sit and relax in a green environment. However, Dhanmondi Lake still offers a glimpse of greenery.I usually spend some time by the green and peaceful Dhanmondi Lake. It’s become a habit. I also enjoy watching the variety of people who come there—it’s always interesting.
One day, while sitting at the lake, I noticed a woman with a baby begging nearby. The sight of her holding the baby touched my heart. I walked up to her and asked,"What’s your name?” She replied, “Kulsum.” When I asked how many children she had, she said two—the babygirl in her arms and a little boy, about 7 or 8 years old, playing nearby. That’s how I first met Kulsum.
After that day, I would often see her at the lake. Slowly, we started talking, and I got to know her story. Kulsum was from a village called Fulthola, near the Teesta River in Kurigram. Her family had a happy life there, with a home and farmland. But the river swallowed everything—their house, their fields, their village. “We lost everything. We were once a prosperous farming family, but overnight, the merciless river took everything from us,” she said. Kulsum told me how they stood helpless when the Teesta River destroyed their home. Like many others from their village, they left for Dhaka. “We didn’t even have enough money for the journey,” she said. “I was three months pregnant, and we walked to the train station. We rode on the roof of a train to Dhaka. On the way to the train station, I asked a family for water, but they refused because we were poor.”
In Dhaka, her husband started pulling a rickshaw, and Kulsum began begging to survive. “One person’s income wasn’t enough,” she explained. “We spent so much money just for the birth of our baby girl. I had no choice but to beg, even though I hated it." She was a solvent housewife in her village, and now she is begging in the city.Her story made me so sad, and I kept thinking of ways to help her.
Over time, as I spoke with Kulsum more, we built a strong connection. Following the SALT approach, I encouraged her to think about what else she could do instead of begging. One day, she said, “Apa, so many people visit Dhanmondi Lake, especially families with children. Maybe I could sell balloons for the kids.” I loved the idea and encouraged her to try.
Soon, Kulsum started selling balloons at the lake, and it worked! She made much more money than she did from begging. With her two kids by her side, she became a regular balloon seller. After saving some money, she expanded her business and started selling flowers too. Flowers sold even better because many young couples visited the lake.Now, when I visit Dhanmondi Lake and see Kulsum, she’s a completely different person. She looks confident and proud. She realized her own strength and used it to change her life. Today, she earns enough to take care of her husband and children.
But there’s still one thing that makes me sad. When I asked her little boy, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he replied, “I want to sell balloons.” I was surprised; I asked, “Why?” He said, “So I can earn money, and my mother won’t have to work so hard.”
Kulsum’s story reminds me of the struggles faced by every family who loses everything to river erosion. They arrive in big cities with nothing and start a new hard life. But Kulsum’s story also shows how resilience and hope can help people rebuild, even after losing everything.When we help someone realize the strength they already have within, they become unstoppable. They start believing in themselves and find the courage to shape their own future. It’s like lighting a small flame inside them that grows into a bright fire, guiding them toward a better life.
Swept Away by the River, But Not Defeated: Kulsum’s Story of Survival
by Humaira Yasmin Peya
Dec 4
I live in Dhaka, a city where everyone is busy with their own lives. Amid this hustle, there are very few places to sit and relax in a green environment. However, Dhanmondi Lake still offers a glimpse of greenery.I usually spend some time by the green and peaceful Dhanmondi Lake. It’s become a habit. I also enjoy watching the variety of people who come there—it’s always interesting.
One day, while sitting at the lake, I noticed a woman with a baby begging nearby. The sight of her holding the baby touched my heart. I walked up to her and asked,"What’s your name?” She replied, “Kulsum.” When I asked how many children she had, she said two—the babygirl in her arms and a little boy, about 7 or 8 years old, playing nearby. That’s how I first met Kulsum.
After that day, I would often see her at the lake. Slowly, we started talking, and I got to know her story. Kulsum was from a village called Fulthola, near the Teesta River in Kurigram. Her family had a happy life there, with a home and farmland. But the river swallowed everything—their house, their fields, their village. “We lost everything. We were once a prosperous farming family, but overnight, the merciless river took everything from us,” she said. Kulsum told me how they stood helpless when the Teesta River destroyed their home. Like many others from their village, they left for Dhaka. “We didn’t even have enough money for the journey,” she said. “I was three months pregnant, and we walked to the train station. We rode on the roof of a train to Dhaka. On the way to the train station, I asked a family for water, but they refused because we were poor.”
In Dhaka, her husband started pulling a rickshaw, and Kulsum began begging to survive. “One person’s income wasn’t enough,” she explained. “We spent so much money just for the birth of our baby girl. I had no choice but to beg, even though I hated it." She was a solvent housewife in her village, and now she is begging in the city.Her story made me so sad, and I kept thinking of ways to help her.
Over time, as I spoke with Kulsum more, we built a strong connection. Following the SALT approach, I encouraged her to think about what else she could do instead of begging. One day, she said, “Apa, so many people visit Dhanmondi Lake, especially families with children. Maybe I could sell balloons for the kids.” I loved the idea and encouraged her to try.
Soon, Kulsum started selling balloons at the lake, and it worked! She made much more money than she did from begging. With her two kids by her side, she became a regular balloon seller. After saving some money, she expanded her business and started selling flowers too. Flowers sold even better because many young couples visited the lake.Now, when I visit Dhanmondi Lake and see Kulsum, she’s a completely different person. She looks confident and proud. She realized her own strength and used it to change her life. Today, she earns enough to take care of her husband and children.
But there’s still one thing that makes me sad. When I asked her little boy, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he replied, “I want to sell balloons.” I was surprised; I asked, “Why?” He said, “So I can earn money, and my mother won’t have to work so hard.”
Kulsum’s story reminds me of the struggles faced by every family who loses everything to river erosion. They arrive in big cities with nothing and start a new hard life. But Kulsum’s story also shows how resilience and hope can help people rebuild, even after losing everything.When we help someone realize the strength they already have within, they become unstoppable. They start believing in themselves and find the courage to shape their own future. It’s like lighting a small flame inside them that grows into a bright fire, guiding them toward a better life.