Death of a lifeline

Inam Ahmed and Morshed Ali Khan

The kingfisher was sitting lonely in the gathering dusk on a dead branch sticking out of tar black water. Our handkerchiefs were proving too inadequate to keep the stench out of our nostrils. With each stroke of the oar, a thick liquid similar to burnt lube oil splashed up. The sound of the oar was blunt and heavy, like hitting mud with a stick.

We were surprised at the kingfisher -- the first sighting of any bird that depends on water for survival. It means there must be fish too in this muck that we still call a river -- Buriganga. Our hope evaporated soon as the kingfisher dived and picked up an insect, looking like the ones you find in your septic tank. When fish is gone, sewage insects are the only feed.