A love letter to Cox’s Bazar: A city that taught me to stay

। Mosharaf Hossain ।

People come to Cox’s Bazar mostly for an escape. They run from their daily chaos or a broken heart. They simply want to enjoy freedom by the beach. This city will not disappoint you.

But for me, it was a different story. I first came to this city in 2019 for an official workshop. It was an intense event from morning to sunset. I could not even visit the sea. But I returned to this coastal city in 2021. I came with a three-month job contract. I wore the badge of a humanitarian worker.

That short contract turned into almost five years. For many, Cox’s Bazar is just about tourism and fun. But to me, this is a city of refuge. It gives shelter to nearly 1.2 million Rohingya refugees. It opened its arms. It embraced those forced to flee their homes. It is a city where thousands of humanitarian workers live, who are trying to make the world a better place.

Over the years, I fell in love with Cox’s Bazar. Like every great love story, this city made me a better person. More grounded. More human.

Every day, thousands of people arrive in Cox’s Bazar. But no one stays. Every morning, the streets around Dolphin Intersection and Kolatoli Road fill with a heartwarming scene. Watching this crowd on weekends is one of my favorite things to do. You see people from all walks of life stepping off the buses. You will rarely find a sad face. Their eyes hold the pure joy of freedom. You can feel it in how they walk. They walk as if no one is watching.

Even for those of us who carry a heavy heart, our spirits naturally lift. There is no tiredness here. There is no annoyance. People roam freely. Little children tumble wildly in the beach sand. Elderly parents playfully splash in the ocean water. When the sun sets, lovers hold each other close.

Then evening falls. After 8.30 P.M., the rush to return home begins. Buses from different districts slowly start to leave the city. You still see a deep sense of satisfaction on their faces. But if you walk down Kolatoli Road, then you feel a strange emptiness. People leave so abruptly. You cannot hold them back, even if you try.

The holiday ends. The city empties out again. At the end of the day, everyone visits. No one stays. No one has the courage, the opportunity, or the patience to remain. Everyone eventually leaves Cox’s Bazar behind. Everyone except people like me.

Living here means embracing local traditions. There are times when I try to sleep late at night. From far away, I hear a death announcement on a loud mic. In Dhaka, I rarely hear those. Here, it is a tradition. Locals know each other. Social media has taken control of our modern lives, yet the microphone announcements remain. Every time it echoes through the dark, it reminds me how little time we have on this earth.

There are things about this place that simply work beautifully. First is the deep sense of community. You see this in the food. You eat hot rice with spicy shutki bhorta. It burns your tongue, but you cannot stop eating. You can taste the ocean in every bite of fresh seafood. Local flavors bring people together around shared tables. But nothing compares to the hospitality of the local people. I often have the privilege of attending local weddings. I am invited into their homes. They generously share what they have.

Second is the beach itself. The Bay of Bengal is vast and forgiving. It offers an endless sense of comfort. Finally, there is the silence. If you walk far enough from the crowded spots, you find pure quiet. You only hear the rhythm of the waves. It clears your mind.

But true love also means seeing the flaws. To protect this city, we must plan for its future. There are things we must improve.

First, we can be kinder to the city. A little more patience in the streets goes a long way. We need to look out for each other. We must show kindness to locals, visitors, and those who have lost their homes.

Second, we need to take better care of our streets and shores. People must keep the beach clean. Every time you have a family picnic by the water, pack up your trash. Do not throw leftover food on the sand. The ocean is a living ecosystem, not a garbage bin. The city desperately needs a real, working system to manage waste.

Third, we need more ways to find joy beyond the water. We rely entirely on the sea to entertain guests. We need cultural centres, a cinema hall, public parks, and creative spaces. These places are vital for families, tourists, and workers to breathe and connect.

Fourth, we need to treat guests with genuine care. From the shopkeeper to the rickshaw puller, everyone can be more professional. Ripping off a visitor might bring quick cash, but it hurts the city in the long run. A happy visitor returns. They bring friends. True hospitality is about building relationships. We need fair prices and honest service to build trust and keep our local markets alive.

Cox’s Bazar gave me a new life. It taught me empathy. This is a city that quietly carries the heavy weight of humanity. It offers a safe harbor to countless souls who have lost everything. It does this with open arms and a quiet grace. I hope we can all give a little of that boundless care back to the city. It deserves our respect. It deserves our protection. Most of all, it deserves our deep and lasting love.

Mosharaf Hossain is a Communications Professional based in Cox’s Bazar. mosharafhmsj@gmail.com