Amid the morning hum of Dhaka, I found myself wandering through the Shahbag Flower Market, where the scent of marigolds clung to the air and color spilled across the pavement. A short ride away, Kawran Bazar throbbed with life. Vendors shouted prices, rickshaws weaved through narrow alleys, and the pulse of the city beat loud and fast.

At the heart of Dhaka’s academic soul, Curzon Hall stood tall. Built during British colonial rule, the red-brick structure once symbolized imperial power but later became a hub for resistance during Bangladesh’s language movement. Not far from it, the Swadhinata Sangram Vashkorjo commemorates those who fought for independence in 1971, its presence a stark reminder of Dhaka’s resilience.

I ducked into New Market for snacks and souvenirs before slipping into the serene Armenian Church, one of the city’s oldest structures, dating back to the 18th century, built by Armenian merchants who once thrived in Dhaka. Just blocks away, the Star Mosque dazzled with delicate mosaic stars lining its domes and walls, a peaceful sanctuary tucked within chaos.

Shakhari Bazar transported me back in time, its alleys packed with ornate wooden balconies and the scent of incense lingering outside Hindu temples. Finally, I ended the day by the river at Sadarghat. Ferries groaned at the docks, the Buriganga flowing sluggish and dark, bearing witness to centuries of commerce and migration.