by Rumaisa Reza
PureTravel Writing Competition 2025
It was around summer. I was six years old then. It was July, and my family had decided to take a trip to Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh; the longest natural sea beach in the world, to spend a vacation surrounded by the beauty of nature. After browsing the Guest Help Site for Cox’s Bazar, my dad gathered all the necessary information for travel tickets and other accommodations.
On 11th July, we set off. It was the four of us: Mom, Dad, my elder brother, and me. For that location, a travel bus seemed like the best option, according to Dad, so that’s what we took. I wouldn’t say the journey to our destination went smoothly at all. The road was far from ideal: sometimes narrow, sometimes crowded, full of complicated highways, none of it matched the image my little mind had imagined. It was a night journey, specifically chosen by Mom, who suggested that traveling by day would be exhausting due to the intense heat that month. But still, somehow, the journey managed to wear us all out by the time it ended.
As we left the bus station, the very first glimpse of the beach from afar effortlessly caught my eye, just moments before Mom pointed toward it with her index finger, directing the rest of our attention to that captivating view. Something that could appear so breathtaking even from a distance wouldn’t have been so convincing to me if I hadn’t already known about the beauty of nature. For quite a while, we stood there, taking in the sight of Cox’s Bazar from a distance, exchanging words of praise and agreeing that this trip wouldn’t be a waste, not if the first view alone had left such an impression.
Then, a man approached Dad.
Mishele. That’s the name he gave. Our tour guide for the three-day trip. Dad had already arranged all the accommodations before we started, using online tourist agencies. Since it was still morning and we were all quite tired from the overnight journey, Mishele suggested we have breakfast first and get a little rest to recover our sleep-deprived bodies before noon. So it was decided: we’d eat, rest for a while, and then Mishele would return to pick us up for lunch, and finally, the most awaited part of the trip — sightseeing.
The afternoon went so perfectly that there was hardly a flaw worth mentioning. We had regular food for both breakfast and lunch, served at the same rest-house where we were staying during the tour. Mishele then announced that he would take us out for dinner, where we could try the well-known local dishes of Cox’s Bazar. He also mentioned that it would be a real miss if we didn’t experience the unique flavors the region had to offer.
In the evening, Mishele took us to some local spots, each offering the kind of beautiful scenery we had been hoping for. We took pictures both of ourselves and of the views, to capture the joyful moments of the trip, hoping to look back on them in the future with a smile of fond remembrance.
As the evening slowly slipped away, we made our way to the beach for its nighttime view. Mishele said the beach offers a heavenly sight after dark, something the daylight can’t show. And he couldn’t have been more right.
The harmony of the waves caressed the shore in a steady rhythm, like a wordless confession of love they carried with each touch, a silent promise to always return, with a drizzling voice that resembled both care and longing, woven into every motion like something sacred. There were very few people there, and that added even more peace to the beauty the beach carried so proudly, like a queen cloaked in her royal identity. Her pride stood tall, wrapped in such quiet elegance, as if to remind the world that this beauty was only to be admired, never possessed, certainly never taken for granted.
Though none of us could get enough of the beauty the beach was offering, we eventually had to leave the scene behind for dinner, as time was nudging us toward the next part of the plan. Mishele took us somewhere that looked like anything but a restaurant. Then he explained that this place wasn’t a restaurant at all, it was an open space under the sky. We soon learned it was a well-known spot, famous for welcoming tourists with traditional food served in a simple, open-air setting.
The dinner we had there completely exceeded our expectations. We hadn’t imagined the food could taste as amazing as it did: fried rupchanda, lobster curry, fried crabs, seafood dishes, shrimp biryani, bhorta, and coconut laddu for dessert. Each item seemed to outshine the other. After the meal, we returned to the rest-house, our hearts and stomachs full. The day had gone exactly as a perfect day on a trip should go.
The next morning, Mishele arrived early to take us for breakfast and more sightseeing. That day, as per the tour plan, we headed to Inani Beach. Mishele said that Inani Beach’s beauty couldn’t be described, only seen. And when we finally reached the spot, we understood what he meant. There was no denying that Cox’s Bazar is a living example of the greatness that natural beauty holds.
Shahat, my brother, and I had way too much fun. We dove into the water and played, all under Dad’s watchful eye, of course, to avoid any kind of inconvenience or danger. The sun was blazing down on the beach, but that didn’t stop any of the tourists from enjoying the moment. There were more visitors than we had expected, despite the extreme heat of July. But even with the area crowded and overloaded, nothing seemed to dull anyone’s joy, they were all making the most of it.
Since Shahat was already a teenager, he was allowed to go farther into the sea, while I was restricted to stay where the water reached no higher than my stomach. That did dampen my fun a little, but there were plenty of other things to do, right? I saw Mom enjoying herself in the water, Dad teaching Shahat what to do and what not to do in the waves, and Mishele sitting on a wooden bench under the shade of a large umbrella, guarding our bag of food and extra clothes for the day.
So, it felt like the perfect moment for me to do whatever my small brain whispered. I stepped out of the water and walked up toward the sand.
I saw some men collecting sea shells, too cute to leave behind, so I joined them. They were happy, and so was I. I kept going until suddenly, someone threw a sandball right at my forearm, and all the shells I had collected fell to the ground. It was a boy about my age. I felt annoyed and was thinking of throwing one back. But then he gave me a warm smile and asked, “Will you play sandball fights with me?” All my irritation vanished, and I agreed.
For a while, I looked back toward Mom and waved, but she didn’t notice me, so I kept playing. Oh, how fun it was playing with him, we were both covered in sand from head to toe.
Just when we were having the best moment of our lives, a lady suddenly came up to us and abruptly took the boy away, cleaning the sand and dirt off him. I heard her scolding him in a warning tone, saying how many times she had told him not to go anywhere without telling anyone, just like Mom had said to me many times.
Then I realized what had happened. While playing, we had become so engrossed in the fun that we didn’t notice how far we had wandered from where we started, running and dodging each other’s sandball attacks. I wanted to go back to Mom, but I couldn’t. I was lost.
Everywhere I looked, there was only sand, endless sand. How was I supposed to find my way? I didn’t see anyone. Mom wasn’t there. Dad wasn’t there. Shahat wasn’t there. Not even Mishele was around. Now, how would I get back?
And my tears began to fall. I was crying so loudly, looking here and there, calling out for Mom, Dad, Shahat, but why wasn’t anyone listening? I kept calling, even though my voice was breaking and unclear from all the crying. I felt like I had lost everything just because of playing sandball fights. I had lost Mom, Dad, and Shahat. Now, I don’t have anyone.
Maybe everyone would leave when they couldn’t find me. Maybe they would leave Cox’s Bazar tomorrow. Maybe they would go back home. Then Shahat would continue going to school, and I would just remain here. Maybe I would never go to school again. Maybe I would never see my friends again. Maybe my teachers would never praise my handwriting again. Maybe I would never visit Grandma again. Maybe Mom would never scold me again. Maybe Dad would never give me chocolates again. Maybe Shahat would never argue with me again. And I would just stand there, alone, forever.
Thinking about all this, I started crying harder and harder. I kept crying until I could barely breathe. I felt suffocated, but I couldn’t stop. Maybe, like always, when Dad sees me crying, he will pick me up, give me candy, and say, “Nothing happened, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid. See, I’m here with my princess.”
Maybe if I keep crying, Dad will find me and take me into his safe embrace. Maybe then everything will go back to how it was before. Maybe then everything will be fine again.
I cried more with every passing second, but nothing happened. No one came. No one found me. Maybe they had left.
Now, what would I do? Would I be separated from them forever? But how could I live without them? Who would cook delicious meals for me? Who would buy me toys? Who would share sweet treats with me? I could not live without them.
But there was no way back. I had lost them. I shouldn’t have wandered away from Dad. I should have listened to Mom about not going anywhere far without telling her. I should have just watched Shahat enjoy the beach. I should have never gone to collect those sea shells. I should have never agreed to play sandball fights with anyone.
And now, I couldn’t even go back. Everything had ended. I would never be with Mom, Dad, and Shahat again.
I saw people who had been enjoying the beach from the start slowly heading back toward the road. The crowd was thinning. And I realized I had been sitting there, covered in sand and dirt, crying loudly for so long that almost every tourist was done enjoying their day and was returning to their own places.
So, that meant Mom and Dad had left too? They had left because they couldn’t find me? Now, what would happen? Was I going to sit here all alone like this?
Just when I felt everything was over and nothing could go back to how it was, an elderly lady came and sat beside me. She gently wiped my tears with a handkerchief and patted my head before saying, “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Calm down, okay?”
I don’t know why, but I felt like crying even more. She comforted me again, “You’re such a sweet girl. Why are you crying?” She brushed the sand off me and offered me some water. “Here, drink this and calm down, okay? Tell me what happened.”
I shook my head, refusing to speak. I remembered Mom’s words: “Don’t take anything from strangers, and don’t talk to them, even if they’re nice.” This time, I wanted to obey Mom firmly. I had already lost so much by not listening to her, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
But the lady insisted again, “Drink some water, sweetheart. You look so devastated.” I shook my head once more.
Then she took back the water bottle and said, “See, sweetheart, I know you’re looking for your parents, right?”
I looked at her, astonished, how did she know?
“But if you don’t calm down, how can I help you find them?”
Without hesitation, I asked, “You know where they are? Can you help me find them?”
She smiled gently. “I don’t know where they are, but I can help you find them.”
“How?”
“I can, but first you have to calm down and then tell me exactly what happened, okay?”
I nodded and began to tell her everything.
“You came here at half past eight? Oh my Lord! It’s past three now. You’ve been lost for a while, so you haven’t eaten anything since?” she said, her voice full of concern.
“Come with me. First, let me buy you some food.”
I went with her. She bought me a sweet bun and a banana and offered them to me. I shook my head again.
The lady knelt down to my level and said, “See, sweetheart, you haven’t eaten anything for a long time. If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick.”
I shook my head again.
She insisted, “Please, sweetheart, do you think your parents would be happy if you got sick?”
I remembered the night I had a fever. Mom and Dad didn’t sleep all night, they were so worried about me. No, I didn’t want to worry them any more. So finally, I accepted the food.
As I started eating, I realized just how hungry I was. I ate quickly, as if that would satisfy my hunger.
“Eat slowly, sweetheart,” she gently advised, and I listened.
“Should I buy you some more?”
I nodded immediately. She bought two more buns and gave them to me. I offered her one, but she refused, saying she had already eaten. So, I ate them all.
When I finished, she offered me some water, and this time I accepted without hesitation.
After I was done, she asked if I could walk a bit or if she should take a rickshaw.
I asked, “Are you taking me to my parents?”
She said, “I don’t know where your parents are, sweetheart, but we have to find them, right?”
“If you don’t know where they are, how will you find them?”
“Come with me, and you’ll see, sweetheart.”
After walking for a while, she brought me to a building.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“It’s the Cox’s Bazar Tourist Safety Community Office. They help tourists who visit here.”
“Can they help me find my parents?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Let’s go inside.”
We went in, and the lady explained everything to an officer. The officer took out a photo and compared it to me before making a call.
“Get back to the office and bring Mr. and Mrs. Anayan. Tell them their daughter is here.”
He ended the call and asked us to sit down. He assured me not to worry, that my parents were on their way. He thanked the elderly lady who had fed me for bringing me there.
About ten minutes later, my parents arrived. Mom came running and hugged me so tightly, tears streaming down her face. Seeing them, I started crying too. I noticed Dad standing nearby, thanking the elderly lady. Mishele also appeared, holding Shahat’s hand and comforting him, as Shahat was crying as well.
Mom said, “I’m so sorry, honey. I was so careless. I didn’t even notice where you went. I’m so sorry.”
I felt bad. Why was Mom apologizing? It was me who had done wrong.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I wandered off. I promise I’ll never do something like this again. I’ll always listen to you and Dad.”
Mom loosened her hug just as Dad picked me up and held me close. “It’s okay, princess. Everything’s fine now. Stop crying, okay?”
I could tell Dad was crying too.
“Today was a lot to handle, right, princess? I’m sorry you had to go through this. Dad didn’t do well, did he?”
I shook my head, still crying too hard to respond easily.
“From now on, if you want to go anywhere, just tell Dad, okay? Dad will take you wherever you want.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad.”
Dad had some paperwork to complete before we could leave the office. Mom and Dad thanked the lady again and again, but she just smiled and said, “It was my duty. She’s just like my grandchild.”
Shahat held me, still crying, and said, “Don’t go away from me again. I’ll share chocolates with you. I’ll share every toy with you. I’ll never argue with you again.”
“I won’t go anywhere again. Never. I was so afraid.”
As we reached the rest house, Mom dismissed Mishele, saying we wouldn’t continue the tour anymore and that we would head back home. I felt so bad. I thought I had ruined everyone’s happy vacation. When we first saw the beach, we had all been so joyful, admiring this gift of nature. Now, because of me, everyone seemed sad. I had spoiled all the good moments.
But Dad spoke to Mom, “No, see, our daughter is already terrified about what happened. Let’s not scare her anymore. If we go home now, she’ll blame herself. There’s no need to go back to the beach, but let’s not leave yet. We can still see many other things.”
The next day, we went to the traditional market of Cox’s Bazar. At first, I was afraid, unsure of what to expect, but then I felt better. Dad held my hand the entire time. We saw many things, tasted different types of pickles, and tried other traditional foods suggested by Mishele. We bought some sea stones, and Dad even got me some beautiful seashells. We also bought dried snacks, and Dad bought traditional ornaments for Mom. Then, we bought gifts for our neighbors: chocolates, toys, and a small showpiece. We had so much fun. The market was decorated so attractively.
Later that night, we started our journey back home. I thought maybe we couldn’t enjoy the trip anymore after the incident, but we did. Despite that one difficult moment, our trip to Cox’s Bazar was wonderful, with the beauty of nature, the breathtaking scenery, and the delicious food. Without that setback, it was a journey I’ll always want to keep safe in my memory.
It was a trip with many sides. Not only did it secure a special place in my memories, but it also taught me important things about myself, about what truly matters, and how quickly life can change course in the blink of an eye. Every moment made me appreciate what I had and what I could have lost. It taught me lessons in a way I never imagined possible, lessons I didn’t realize I needed so deeply.
This experience taught me that travel isn’t just about seeing new places — it’s about the moments that change us, often unexpectedly. Losing my way made me realize how precious family and kindness are, and how even in fear, there can be hope. Cox’s Bazar will always remind me of that turning point, a moment when everything shifted, and I learned to appreciate the beauty not just around me, but within the people who helped me find my way again.
Photo by Serzill Hasan on Unsplash
