In a predominantly Muslim town, an elegant Hindu woman stood at the doorway

Dainty woman wearing saree — Refined lady

In the back alleys of Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, a relentless tide of rickshaws—reputed to be the world’s most numerous—kicks up a permanent shroud of dust. The cacophony of their horns, a sharp-edged chorus that grates against the nerves, clings to the psyche along with the suffocating, humid heat. Lugging a cumbersome camera around my neck, I felt only the weight of the noise and the oppressive air.

Drawn by a desperate need to escape the frenzy, I slipped into a dim side street. There, framed by a weathered doorway of intricately carved wood, stood an elderly woman in a geometric-patterned sari. I’m told that a single sari can stretch anywhere from five to over eight meters long; the mere thought of the labor involved in draping such a garment is enough to make me lose my breath. Yet, she wore it with an effortless, cool grace.

As I aimed my blunt instrument of a camera her way—mostly to kill time—she cast a quiet glance at the snout of the strange machine. Then, with a subtle shifting of the wrinkles on her face, she offered a faint smile. It wasn't the performative hospitality often shown to foreigners. It was a look of detached serenity, as if she were watching a stray dog trot past her doorstep.

It is a well-known fact that Muslims make up roughly 80 percent of this nation’s population—recent statistics suggest it’s actually well over 90, but a vast majority regardless. On the main thoroughfares, the sight of women in hijabs is ubiquitous. Yet, this elegant woman’s hair remained uncovered, and upon her brow sat a distinct, circular bindi. A silent testament, I realized, to her Hindu faith in the heart of this crowded city.

Dhaka on Google Map

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