On the roadside, a street vendor had set up his cart, neatly stacked with mangoes for sale

On a street corner in Dhaka, a four-wheeled cart stood motionless, piled high with mangoes. They were arranged in neat rows, their color and sheen making them irresistible even from a distance. I had often seen similar scenes in India, but here in Bangladesh the mango is no less a national fruit. The country produces well over a million tons each year, and during the harvest season their fragrance drifts through bazaars and back alleys alike, until mangoes feel less like produce and more like part of the season itself.

Standing behind the cart was a vendor with a cloth wrapped around his head. He held one mango in his hand as though waiting for the right customer. Watching him closely, I noticed a faint, almost mischievous smile. Perhaps he was thinking of how to bargain with the next buyer, or perhaps he was simply passing the time on a long afternoon. Either way, there was something about his broad figure and calm expression that seemed to mirror the fruit he was selling. In that moment, I couldn’t quite decide which was the true centerpiece of the scene — the neat rows of mangoes, or the vendor who resembled them so closely.

Dhaka on Google Map

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