Wisper of Estuary

West of Chandpur, where Bangladesh’s earth narrows to a spearpoint, rests Molehead. A defiant triangle of silt and spirit, it meets the sacred confluence of three river-giants—Padma, Meghna, Dakatia—whose currents descend from Himalayan snows to embrace the sea. Its name, Molehead, whispers of stone ramparts raised against the river’s rage: a bulwark between land and the hungry tides.

Here, the soul of the subcontinent pours itself into this living estuary—a torrent of stories older than memory. The world’s second-largest gathering of freshwater, bearing mountains to ocean, carving channels through human dreams. For epochs untold, this water-land has cradled a fragile covenant: where mangroves grip mud like ancient hands, where fish still dance in vanishing currents, where people plant rice in soil salted by storms.