Bhutan to Bay of Bengal Himalaya with Michael Palin

Well, certainly, and somewhat surprisingly, I'm back in the land of yaks.

I'm in Bhutan for a last taste of the high Himalaya.

Bhutan is a tiny pebble, squeezed between the great rocks of China and India.

Mostly mountain and forest, it has few roads, so I'm walking up to Chomolhari, which borders on Tibet.

My guide, Dorji, wears national costume, as men are expected to in this country.

I favour the international dishevelled look.

There's room to move here.

Bhutan is the size of Switzerland, with a population of little more than a million.

It has one of the strictest environmental policies in the world.

More than a quarter of the country is national park,

and not even fallen wood can be gathered without permission.

It's a country jealous of its independence, ruled by a much-loved king

whose declared policy is gross national happiness BEFORE gross national product.

The influence of Buddhism is everywhere, like this dramatic cliff-top hermitage.

A lot of holy spots seem to crop up all over Bhutan.

What was special about here?

'Legend claims it was founded by a saint, Guru Rinpoche, who rode here on a tigress 1,200 years ago,

'and turned himself into something so nasty that the evil spirits fled and left the valley to Buddhism.'

-The view.

-Wow, fantastic!

That looks like a black rat on the walls there.

-What is it?

-It's a weasel.

-A weasel?

-Yeah. You see the thing in its mouth?

It's a precious stone. It symbolises wealth, prosperity for the house.

Oh, coming out of the mouth of a weasel. Why is that?

-Er, because...

-Is a weasel considered a lucky creature?

Er, not the weasel, but the God of the North holds a weasel in his hands

-that spits out precious stones.

-It's so complicated.

Gods of the North and regurgitating weasels

are a reminder that religious symbolism is at the heart of Bhutanese life.

If you want a safe journey, you don't pass a prayer-wheel without spinning it.

I did one for you.

Round, round.

There we go.

Bhutan has taken deliberate steps to keep tourist numbers manageable.

Visitors have to pay a minimum of 200 a day,

even if you're staying in a tent.

It's amazing how many people you need to enjoy

the outdoor life.

I mean, in order to travel through Bhutan as we are now and kind of see sort of "off-piste" Bhutan -

there are no roads here - you need your stuff to be carried.

Hence all the horses.

We've got about 20 ponies here, and they have to carry all the gear really -

all the tents, the kitchen tent down there, chairs, bags, food.

There's a great catering cavalry out there,

taking all the stuff we'll need for lunch and then camp this evening.

I mean, there's six of us crew, but all the rest are really the people and horses

that help us live and move and see this wonderful country.

All I have to do is fill my water bottle.

Well, I don't even have to do that actually. Someone does that for me. But I drink it!

As you can see, rather...nimbly.

Next morning, nothing happens until platefuls of red rice flavoured with chillies -

the magic ingredient of Bhutanese cooking - are devoured for breakfast.

After a few days on the trail, we're out of the woods

and into the high country, where one creature dominates.

And every bit of the yak is used, of course, including its droppings, yeah?

-That's for fire... Cooking... Eating, no?

-No.

We're in amongst the big peaks again.

That's really spectacular, isn't it?

The glacier.

Is that one of the highest in Bhutan?

Er, no, it must be the fourth or fifth highest.

'It amazes me that people can live here.

'This house is at 14,500 feet, higher than the top of the Eiger.

'It's the home of a man Dorji very much wants me to meet -

'a poet who wrote one of Bhutan's hit songs.'

Pleased to meet you.

Nice of you to let us drop in.

Well, we just walked in, didn't we, really?

Ohhh! Yeah.

-I'm sorry, I don't know his name.

-DORJI SPEAKS DZONGKA

-Jumi Doji.

-Jumi Doji.

Jumi Doji. I'm Michael.

Very nice to meet you. How old are you, sir?

-Er, 82.

-82? He looks very good.

Very good for 82. A long life.

So he's saying he's like the sun now. It's fading, the sun is fading.

-His life is also on the verge of fading.

-Still, he looks...

-He's the one who composed that song, so...

-Oh? He's composed...

Would you like to hear him sing?

He's saying, like, er, he's got old and his voice is not as good as...

Oh, I know. Well, I would just love to hear.

If he would like to sing, that would be wonderful. Thank you very much.

MAN STARTS TO SING

Thank you very much. That was really good.

I could sing you a song about a lumberjack, but you won't want to hear that!

-Well, it's very silly...

-No, but...

-OK!

# I cut down trees I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory

# On Wednesdays, I go shopping and have buttered scones for tea

# I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK, I cut down... #

I can't even remember it, and I wrote the thing!

Oh, it goes something like that, but it's not as nice as your yak...

We could go on tour together. Let's go on tour together. You sing your song and I'll do...

Yeah, well, thank you.

Tonight, we'll be staying at Chomolhari base camp.

We've arrived at the highest point on our trek, where the mountain trails lead into Tibet.

Beautiful place for a site, isn't it? It's quite enclosed.

This is one of the best camps...

Yeah. And this is permanent?

Well, obviously, yeah.

Yeah.

How many days before we start to go down now, really, and how many days before we get to Paro?

Oh, about, er, three days from now we'll be in Paro.

-Three days?

-Yeah. For the festival. We'll be there for the festival.

-Yeah. So that's kind of pretty much downhill from here?

-Yeah, downhill all the way.

That's not so bad. It's nice up here, kind of enclosed.

'In the morning, the sight of the mountain passes behind us as we load

'makes me feel a kinship for those who, for centuries, have kept trade routes open across the Himalaya.

'It must be in the blood.

'Men of the mountains doggedly shifting food, clothes, animals and God knows what.

'For me, unfortunately, it's only one-way traffic.'

This is a bit of a sad moment, cos up there behind the clouds

is probably the last of the great Himalayan peaks that I shall see on this journey - Chomolhari,

about 24,000 feet, just over 7,000 metres.

I'll miss the big mountains and, I mean, nowadays, I think those are the only mountains in the world.

Anything less than 20,000 feet is just tiny.

So, farewell, the big monumental Himalayan peaks. Farewell, Chomolhari.

Oh-ah!

This is just the great joyful moment of trekking -

partly getting to the end of the trail, but then finding you're by a river...

and a bath for the feet. Ahh!

Wow, it's icy cold glacier water.

Looks a bit muddy, but it actually is probably pure,

and it's such a relief.

That's the joy of trekking by the river, really.

If it was warmer, I'd probably have a swim.

Oh, that's just lovely.

Ah, ah, ah... Those rocks.

We did about 15 kilometres, maybe 20 kilometres, today, 18 kilometres yesterday.

It's a lot of work for the old feet only used to going up and down stairs.

Trekking is a great leveller.

The river is everyone's bath and the horses are our indispensable companions.

Dawn beside the Paro River.

Another day, another of the world's great campsites,

another early-morning call with another cup of "bed tea".

Oh, yes. One of the advantages of trekking is that you are absolutely knocked out

by the time night comes, and I've slept better here than I probably ever do in London.

The only slight disadvantage is bodily hygiene.

I don't think I've actually seen my body for several days,

so when I get back to Paro later, there'll probably be a bit of sand-blasting needed.

Otherwise, it's not a bad life, I say reluctantly.

What more could we want?

Horses get ready to carry our bags, there's dried yak buttock for breakfast, no queue for the bathroom

and time for a leisurely discussion of what lies ahead.

The intention is to go to this festival.

What is the festival and how important is it?

Er, the festival is very important to the people.

It has a very religious significance.

At the same time, it's...

it's a time for the people to, like, wear their best dress and mess around.

It's like a holiday, but it's got very... A lot of religious significance.

The Buddhists of Bhutan are different from those in Tibet.

Their spiritual leader is the Je Khenpo.

The Dalai Lama has no authority and has never even been here.

In fact Dorji boasts of famous Bhutanese victories over the Tibetans,

whose armies made repeated attempts to invade his country down the very trails we're walking today.

-Safe journey.

-Safe journey.

Another day's foot-slogging brings us to the outskirts of Paro.

-Uh-oh. Tired?

-This is what we've been aiming for all these days.

Yes, I am tired.

I'm very tired. Well, my legs are tired.

My brain...switched off long ago.

Oh, wow. Nice to see a village.

That's rather beautiful.

-The road...

-Yeah. Is that Paro on the...?

-Yeah.

'The great castle, or dzong, at Paro dominates the valley,

'and it's where the tsechu festival will begin tomorrow.'

Is it considered essential to go to the tsechu?

Er, it's not essential, but it's, er...

of very religious significance. It's very important.

Right, so if you go, you get a few... A bit of merit.

'Tsechu means "tenth",

'the day of the month when Guru Rinpoche's great deeds took place.'

Market, as well. Opportunity for everyone

to either watch, eat, consume, buy, sell...

HE CHANTS

'The way up to the castle is lined with monks offering blessings for money and packs of stray dogs.

'In a Buddhist country, all life is sacred so they're free to be a complete nuisance.

'The dogs, I mean, not the monks.'

How many people do they expect for the opening day?

Er, maybe about 2,000.

-Really?

-Yeah.

-Mostly Bhutanese?

-Yes. Mostly local.

'As the opening dances begin, everyone tries to grab the best vantage point.

'You can't reserve seats, largely because there are none, except for senior monks and their families.'

It's a long dance. What are they actually doing in the dance?

There's a lot of hand gestures, more or less symbolising lot of things.

But they're basically purifying the area?

'Dorji tells me that the long-sleeved tunics were once cover for an assassination.'

One saint was doing a dance,

and there was an anti-Buddhist king in Tibet,

so he got his bow and arrow from his sleeve and shot the king.

So, that's why they're actually symbolic, these long sleeves.

In a country with few theatres or cinemas, which has only had television for five years,

this festival is, quite apart from any religious significance, riveting entertainment.

Monarchy and religion, the twin pillars of Bhutanese society, come together here

in the Queen Mother's Chapel, to which I've been invited to watch evening prayers.

Music is played and candles are lit to warn off harmful spirits.

I have plenty of time to study the sumptuous decorations, contemplate my own impermanence

and the awful fragility of human life.

Next morning, the atmosphere is anything but reflective

as Dorji and I join the crowds for the second day of the festival.

Everything seems to be uphill in Buddhism!

It's a steep religion!

And Bhutan, yeah. Well, I suppose it's cos Buddhism is very much a Himalayan religion, anyway,

so anywhere you go is going to be... Temples will be built high up on the hill.

Oh, wow, look at this.

It's amazing. Bhutan, there's so few people in the country, yet here we are - they're all here!

It's like Wembley Cup Final.

It's a small place, all cramped, but on the whole, it's a very small population.

Everybody dressed up. I mean, it's wonderful what... Everyone's got their best stuff on.

Lovely, yeah.

It's quite tempting, all that.

What do you recommend?

Have a dumpling.

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, OK, lovely.

How much are they?

-25.

-25.

Well, OK, thank you.

Some chilli...

That chilli looks dangerous.

I love chilli.

The highlight of today's festivities is the Dance Of The Judgment Of The Dead.

The God of the Dead, surrounded by his attendants, listens to mortals,

weighs up their good and bad actions, and judges them accordingly.

The dances are a test of stamina for audience and participants alike.

Away from the main arena, there are reassuringly familiar things to be found -

a car park, portable cinemas showing the local blockbusters,

and even Bhutanese bingo.

Four and nine - 49.

Eight and five - 85.

Anyone? OK, go on. Un-lucky, un-lucky...

The star attraction is archery, which I watch with the King's cousin, Ashi Khendum.

-Almost. That was quite close.

-Was it? How do you know? How can you see? You can tell.

You sort of get used to it.

You can tell from just the movements of the people there...

'Archery is the national sport of Bhutan.

'Players are allowed, even encouraged, to do everything they can to put off their opponents.'

He's a baby!

Take it easy, man. # Don't let me down!

# Don't let me down...! #

'The sport is played at the highest level.

'This team, drawn from Bhutan's elite, contains bankers and cabinet ministers,

'not afraid to let whatever hair they have down.

'On the last day of tsechu, crowds gather at the dzong before dawn

'to witness the most important event of the festival,

'a rare chance to see one of the great treasures of Himalayan Buddhism -

'a tapestry the height of a five-storey building.

'To avoid damage by sunlight, the tapestry, called a thongdrol, is unveiled before daybreak.

'By the light of butter lamps, it's possible to make out a throng of monks and pilgrims.

'For such a devotional people, this is a hugely significant event,

'attended by the abbot and senior monks in full panoply.

'Thongdrol means "liberation by sight", and just to be in its presence earns enormous merit.

'As sunrise approaches, the crowd surges forward to be blessed.

'Anywhere but Bhutan, a crush like this would be frightening.

'But this is not a crush of triumphant winners or angry losers,

'but a crowd united, in a very Buddhist way, in looking for a better life...

'either this time or next time around.

'Thimpu is the capital of Bhutan.

'With traffic police doing tai chi,

'women wearing the distinctive national dress and monks shopping,

'this is not quite like any other capital I've known.

'But behind the facade of metropolitan Buddhism,

'there are places where confused Westerners won't feel out of place.

'At this downtown snooker club, there's chance of a decent drink and a gossip at the bar.

'Benji Dorji, sometime Chief Justice, Minister of Health and of Education,

'is introduced to me by his cousin Khendum, who I met at the archery.'

This is a rather nice lifestyle which I'm not so sure I expected in Bhutan.

Here we are, having a drink and then playing pool,

and it's a very tolerant, slightly laid-back bar-type atmosphere.

Is this compatible with the principles of Buddhism?

Yes, of course. Tolerance, happiness...

Is that what it's about?

-So...

-Everybody knows everybody.

-Yeah.

-Now, that's interesting...

-Yes, and also everybody should just do what makes them happy and...

-Really?

-Do their own thing.

Do their own thing. Without being judgmental or very, you know, conservative.

Are you a practising Buddhist? I mean, do you go to temple and all that?

Yes, yes, I do. Yeah, very much so.

So, you exert your...

For us, Buddhism is a way of life, more than a religion.

It's, you know, more a part of everyday life.

It's not something that you think about and do. Just comes naturally.

Hmm. And do you think about it? I mean, you...

Now and then, I think about it!

Because we're, you know... We're from the West, so we're riddled with guilt, basically.

-We don't have that. No.

-Well, I'm multi-denominational, so I only think about God when I'm in trouble!

So you think about him quite a lot, do you?!

Not all of us are like that!

You know, it's just easy.

But do you believe that, you know, in incarnation?

-That, you know, you'll be something else in another life and you'll...

-Me personally?

-Yes.

I'm not sure.

I have this little problem with reincarnation.

I think some people definitely are reincarnated

and have had other lives and are aware and, you know, they're very spiritual and holy.

I don't think all of us are destined for greatness

and I don't think all of us will be reincarnated or that we had another life

or that we'll ever know about it, even if we did.

I thought that was a basic element of Buddhism.

It is. It is, of course it is, but I personally don't...

I can't reconcile my belief, my practising of Buddhism, with that aspect of it.

That's an unusual thought.

It is unusual, really. I mean...

But I know what I'd like to be reborn as -

as a black, seven-foot-six basketball player who earns a lot of money!

You're gonna have to work rather harder than...

You might be a little, you, you know...

He'll be a cockroach in his next...

He might be a nine-foot, basketball-playing cockroach!

Thank you. Thank you very much!

Benji's passion has always been the environment,

and he's taking me to a remote valley to show me his favourite project.

The road runs east from Thimphu towards Phobjika Valley in the Black Mountains.

Beyond that, to the south and east, lies my final destination - Bangladesh.

Quite a good road.

Yes, you know, till about 30 years ago, there wasn't a road here,

and you had to

take pack ponies, riding horses, and it would take you days

on the old trail to get to wherever you wanted to go.

Because this, I mean, this is a main link, this is a main road through the centre of...

Yes, it's a main link through the centre of Bhutan, linking east to west.

'Bhutan is conditioned mentally and physically by the Himalaya.

'Mountain ranges split the country into a series of steep valleys,

'each with their own character and often their own climate.

'On the other side of this 10,000-foot pass, we leave the snow behind.

'This is the Phobjika Valley, winter home of one of the world's rarest birds, the black-necked crane.

'Most elegant of all Himalayan birds, they fly here from lands to the north,

'attracted by the marshy wetland of the valley.

'Benji has fought successfully to preserve their habitat from being drained by local farmers.'

They look quite grand, the houses, quite spacious.

Are they quite prosperous, farmers here?

Not necessarily, not necessarily.

You know, houses are built by communities, so they all get together and build houses for each other.

If I'm building a house, everybody comes, they'll all come and help me build my house.

So, all the people build each other's houses and they share the cost.

In Bhutan, every farmhouse looks like a small manor,

and by law, all must be built to a traditional design.

-Wood, mainly wood, and then what?

-And mud.

The lower part is all mud.

They build first the foundation.

They don't have a foundation as such as a Western house.

They put the stones down, then they compact mud down.

Thick wall, it's a very thick wall of mud, and then on top it's wood.

It's all handmade.

You know, the wooden...

And, of course, most houses in western Bhutan have the phallic symbol.

I know. That's a wonderfully drawn phallus, isn't it?

It's to ward off evil and for prosperity and protection.

So, that's actually a fertility symbol, with the sperm coming out and all that...

'There are half a dozen painted penises in this village alone.

'They were inspired by a 16th-century religious hero called Drukpa Kunley,

' "the Divine Madman", who walked the length of the country

'preaching and, as far as one can tell, practising his fervent brand of phallocentricity.

'And no-one here bats an eyelid.'

So Michael, this is a typical Bhutanese stair.

As you can see, it's very steep.

There's an art to going up it.

'The staircase is really nothing more than a tree-trunk with a few notches in it.'

They didn't finish the steps!

So now you're about to enter a typical Bhutanese village house.

'A family of five shares the house.

'Dawa Zangma, the youngest of three sisters, is about to go to boarding school in a bigger town.

'She helps the family income by weaving.

'She can make a kira, the long skirt with incredibly complex textures and colours, in a week.'

-No knives and forks.

-But there's no knives and forks traditionally, so what we do is

we take the rice and we make it in, fold it into a ball...

We make it into a ball and then clean our hands with it, and then you can also use it to clean your dress.

-It takes off all the dust...

-So you wash yourself with the rice ball?

-And then you eat it?!

-No, you don't eat it!

-Nice rich texture!

Now, Michael, there's an art to going down these stairs.

You have to sort of lean back a little bit, keep your body upright, and then slide down.

I'll follow your advice.

Keep your feet a little...

-There we go.

-They obviously don't drink much in Bhutan, do they?

-How are you doing? Huh?

They obviously don't drink much in Bhutan, or they wouldn't make stairs like that!

Very nice.

Next morning, the weather's perfect and we have a clear view of the elusive black-necks.

Despite the Buddhist love of all God's creatures,

Benji got a cool response when he first tried to have them protected.

The government refused to stop draining the marsh for a mere 20 birds.

Benji went out and counted 80 of them.

This changed their minds.

A reserve was set up, and now some 300 come here every year.

There's 19 of them there.

-Yeah, then you'll see about... I can spot about three young ones.

-How do you tell the young ones?

They're a little smaller and grey in colour,

greyish in colour.

-And...

-They're handsome. You can see black. A black head and neck. Totally black head and neck.

Why are they so important, Benji, this particular bird?

Well, you know, these birds sort of...

When they arrive at the end of October, early November, when they all get here, it's sort of...

-They arrive from where?

-From Tibet.

They come from Tibet.

And so they, they circle this monastery, so people think it's auspicious,

-that there's some linkage between the monastery and the birds.

-Right.

-Cos there's a lot of sort of religious symbols round here, the prayer flag and...

-Yeah.

So they do think they're somehow sacred or...?

The balance sort of feels much better here

-than in India or wherever.

-Buddhist philosophy,

holistic approach, that all life is interconnected.

The cynic in me says, "Try telling that to the farmers who are trying to make a living from this valley."

But cynicism doesn't work in Bhutan.

It seems out of place in this small, well-ordered kingdom.

So long as gross national product remains less important than gross national happiness,

the future looks pretty good.

From Bhutan, there's only a narrow bit of India to cross before my last frontier.

I'm now in Bangladesh, a vast alluvial plane created by the Himalayan rivers.

I shall follow them from Sylhet in the north, through Dhaka, the capital, and onto the Bay of Bengal.

I've come from a kingdom to a republic, from one of the oldest nations to one of the newest,

from a million people to 135 million.

Good afternoon, sir.

That's my Bangladeshi passport - my Bangladeshi, visa I should say - and my British passport.

Bangladesh has had a hard life.

It won independence from Pakistan in 1971 amidst war, massacre and famine,

which few in the West even noticed.

George Harrison was an exception.

# Bangladesh

# Bangladesh

# Where so many people

# Are dying fast

# And it sure looks like a mess

# I've never seen such distress... #

From the air, you can see the root cause of so many of the country's problems.

This is the dry season, but even now, most of the land is barely above water.

# ..Bangladesh

# Bangladesh... #

Huge rivers and torrential monsoons keep Bangladesh both fertile and fragile.

Not far from the border, rivers are already being farmed, providing a livelihood

for those prepared to scour their waters, not for metals or minerals, but just for stones.

Whoa! Boulders like these are Bangladesh's bounty from the Himalaya.

They're washed down from the foothills and gather here where the waters hit the plane.

In a country that has no stone quarries of any kind,

these offerings are extremely valuable. There's really money in them there rocks.

But not much money for those who gather them.

For a day's hard labour, unskilled workers earn the equivalent of 70 pence.

Despite this, thousands of people are desperate enough to work this river day in and day out

to serve a building boom down south that they have no share in.

But money has poured into the town of Sylhet from a group of people known as "the Londonis",

enterprising Bangladeshis who've made small fortunes from running restaurants in London.

Brick Lane has become marble and stone.

So this is, this is your... your newest house?

'Abdul Rahman made his money selling chickens in Birmingham, and this is what the chickens bought -

'15 state-of-the-art apartments for his family.

'Should his family want to relinquish any of them, he wouldn't be short of a buyer.

'So much money is coming back to Sylhet that land here, he claims,

'is more expensive than London or New York.'

My ambition is to tell you I start from two chicken.

Business.

Then fast, big amount I sell - 300...chicken.

In the end, 12,000 chicken I sell. Finish.

'Abdul Rahman paved the way for many fortunes when he obtained Britain's first ever Halal butcher's licence.'

Then I have got first licence.

Licence Halal, Halal.

Then I been, I have been explain what the Halal, why is the Halal,

what is the cruelty in the English way of...

Have you been kill any chicken English way?

Well, I know how they... I haven't actually killed a chicken for a while, no!

The English way is squeeze and pull,

and we think this is a cruel thing.

We think Muslim way. Not only myself - Muslim way of life.

We say this is a very, very cruelty,

because now the very sharp knife, very sharp.

This is their religion.

You cut like this... Not sharp - no, no, no.

Very sharp, and have a quick throat and let the blood out and this is very nicely slit...

Finished. This is the Halal way.

There are 135 million Bangladeshis.

The building trade that thrives on this mansion mania

is not the only industry to benefit from a deep pool of cheap labour.

In this country, construction and destruction are both big business.

Well, this has to be the most extraordinary knacker's yard anywhere in the world.

Here in Chittagong, some of the greatest ships come to die,

and they're destroyed not by heavy machinery, but by thousands of individuals picking them apart

like an army of ants.

Next for the knackers is the Ocean Breeze.

She was launched by the Queen 50 years ago,

but in six months, her glamorous life will be reduced to a pile of scrap on a Bangladeshi beach.

In the dog-eat-dog world of cheap labour,

these privately owned Bangladeshi yards are feeling the pinch.

Many are closing down, their profits eaten away by state-run Chinese competition.

The vast majority of Bangladeshis are poor and live off the land,

helped by people like Naila Chowdhury, who works for a company called Grameen Phone.

Is this...? Are they planting at the moment?

Right now, they're planting. After three months, it's going to be OK before the rains.

"Grameen" means village, most of which are, like this one,

built on man-made embankments to keep them above the flood.

Hello. Ah, yeah.

You've got a welcoming party, Naila. They obviously know...

'The idea of the Grameen scheme is to offer micro-loans to villagers to help them help themselves.

'We're going to meet a lady who's used her loan to buy a mobile phone,

'which she'll charge with solar energy.'

-Sultana. And among the ten villages, she's the only one with a village phone here, so she's...

-Oh, right.

-How did you choose her?

-Well, she came up on her own to take the loan,

and she sort of like really started doing well, everybody coming to her.

-She's an important woman. Hello.

-Michael Palin.

-Sultana, nice to meet you.

'The scheme has had quite an impact.

'Mrs Sultana can now afford to send her daughter to university.'

You were saying it's very important that you've given these loans largely to women rather than men.

-Can you explain why that...?

-The whole loan is for the women because we feel...

they are more secure. Women are always staying in their permanent position,

and the return is far more safer also.

And you empower the whole nation, because you're building up a woman with her family

-and she'll look after the children, ensure that they study and come up in life.

-Yeah.

You were saying earlier that a of the income comes from people ringing their families

who are expatriate workers over in the Gulf,

but also that people ring now within the villages.

-Has it made a difference to villages?

-Yes, to the farmers, actually.

They sort of get connected to other villages to find out the rates and charge of the seeds, fertiliser

and machineries for the farming, and now nobody can hoodwink them.

They're far more clever now. They can get the prices from other villages, and bargain for the right price.

So, that's a remarkable improvement inside the country.

Can you see in this village...? You've been here before. Can you see it's changed since the phones...?

Three years back, and now I can see wealth creeping in. You know, I can see the difference.

Creating wealth here may not be easy, but a small loan to buy a cow or install a pump

has been so successful that it's being copied all over the Third World.

But is it too little too late?

'Bangladeshis are leaving the countryside for the city in such numbers

'that the population in the capital Dhaka is spiralling out of control.'

HORNS BLARE CONSTANTLY

Thirty years ago, this was a city of one million.

Today, the population has risen to 15 million, and shows no sign of stopping.

Often the only way to get anywhere is to hire a rickshaw.

The good news is, we're in the rickshaw capital of the world.

There are 600,000 to choose from.

The waterways are no more restful.

This is the Sadarghat, the centre of river life in the capital,

and you have to watch your back here as well.

Now, here's something I don't understand.

The water's filthy, but the laundry's spotless.

It's from here that all the boats leave for the south,

and later tonight, with a bit of luck, I shall be on one of them.

A bit bigger than this, I hope.

The paddle steamer Ostrich is the name I've been given,

but it's only one of dozens of ferries loading and unloading in this permanent rush-hour.

With so many comings and goings, I have to ask around a bit before I find her.

The Ostrich is a venerable old bird, built in 1929.

She carries 700 in steerage and 24 in first class.

I'm afraid I've opted for comfort.

The Sadarghat is wonderfully manic,

galvanised by almost permanent hysteria, like Venice on speed.

Six o'clock sharp, we pull away, leaving a swarm of other ferries

fighting for our place at the dockside.

Things are no quieter out on the river where the combined waters of the Ganges and the Brahmaputra

slurp away beneath us.

Ferries have no radar, and collisions are avoided only by careful use of the searchlight.

Or occasionally not avoided at all.

Next morning, we pass our sister ship heading up to Dhaka.

We're both part of what they call the "Rocket Service",

which has plied the river since the days of the British Raj.

Bangladesh has 250 rivers, 5,000 miles of navigable waterways,

and down here in the delta, they're the only way to get about.

Places like Barisal, Jalakati, Charkhali and Morrelganj

depend on the boats, and the Ostrich is both local bus and cargo truck.

In this tranquil season, there's little to do but enjoy the view and meet my fellow passengers,

one of whom is Mahjabeen Khan.

Known to all as "Moni", she's a professional singer with a repertoire of Bengali classics.

MONI SINGS

-Very good.

-Thank you.

That's a lovely song.

Where's it from? Tell me...

It's by Rabindranath Tagore, our Bengali language Nobel laureate.

-Yes, Nobel-prize winner.

-Must have heard about him.

-Hmm, he was the only...

-Was he the only Asian Nobel-prize winner for literature? Is that right?

-Yes, that's right.

Is he still regarded as the great figure of Bangladesh literature?

Any Bengali would say that, you know, he is the greatest Bengali poet.

-Rather like Shakespeare of Bangladesh?

-Yeah.

-Yeah.

Will you do another one for me, cos they're lovely songs, and tell me what it's about?

Erm, it's about the people.

It could apply to anywhere in the world.

It could apply to my country, it could apply to India,

to any country where the people have a very simple way of living.

Whatever they wish for, sometimes is washed away and yet they don't lose hope

and they keep praying to the Almighty that, you know, He should be with them.

-So this is Tagore, the universal voice which obviously makes him so popular.

-Yes.

The river awaits, as do I.

SHE STARTS TO SING

It's hard to believe that in the monsoon season they call this stretch of water "cyclone alley".

The wind rips up it.

24 hours after leaving Dhaka, we arrive at Bangladesh's second port, Mongla.

It's as far south as the Ostrich can go.

It's 90 miles from Mongla to the Bay of Bengal.

The only boat that'll take me down there is an ex-lifeboat

with a viewing platform grafted on top of it.

On either side, are the sinister, uninhabited banks of the world's largest coastal mangrove forest.

These are the Sunderbans, habitat of the Royal Bengal tiger

which, despite frequent appearances on the travel posters, runs the yeti a close second for elusiveness.

In a tiny space next to the lavatory, our cooks prepare the last meal of the journey -

locally caught crab, lobster and the best prawns in the world.

A meal to remember as a strengthening wind tells us the finishing line is close.

At last, the moment has come.

After six months in the mountains, I can sniff the unfamiliar smell of the open sea.

As I head off onto the Bay of Bengal on millions of tons of mud that was once Himalaya,

I feel I've made the last in a chain of connections

between the sea and the mountains we've climbed, and the gorges we've walked and the rivers we've sailed.

Aand all the people we've met along the way suddenly seem very close.

Subtitles by Alison Haggart BBC Broadcast - 2004

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