West Sonatala, Bangladesh – An ordinary day for Andharmanik, a small community newspaper, begins in a crowded fish market.
Walking down the steps from the road to the fish landing point in Mohipur, a town in the district of Patuakhali bordering the Bay of Bengal, the smell of salt and fish hangs heavy in the air. Next to the main landing platform, colourful fishing boats, painted in faded reds, blues and greens, are moored.
At this busy market in late July, larger fishing depots and much smaller shanty-style stalls stand side by side. At one of the small, tin-roofed stalls, Hasan Parvez, 44, with black cotton trousers rolled up to his knees, shovels ice into plastic crates piled high with silvery hilsa – Bangladesh’s prized national fish – which is transported each day to cities including the capital Dhaka and Barisal.
Hasan works surrounded by plastic barrels and crates glistening with the fresh catch of the day, and there is a constant background thrum of diesel-powered trawlers humming as boats pull in and out of the dock.
“It’s a busy morning, and it is a fish market with all the chaos,” Hasan says with a smile.
He works there as a daily wage labourer sorting, weighing and packing fish into white thermocol boxes during the monsoon season. In the dry season, he works at a nearby brick kiln, and over the winter months, around December and January, he works at a market selling sun-dried fish known as “shutki”.
Hasan’s day at Mohipur market starts early – around 4am – with the fajr prayer and a cup of tea without milk, and earns him about 600 taka ($5) per day.
Today, as usual, he is impatient to finish because, besides this job, which he needs to provide for his family, Hasan has another occupation to get back to. He is the editor-in-chief of a handwritten community newspaper called Andharmanik (“jewel from the darkness” in Bengali, and also the name of the nearby river), which features stories from his village of West Sonatala. He publishes it every two months from his home in the coastal village about an hour by road from the fish market and more than eight hours from Dhaka.
Since Hasan and his team of reporters don’t own or use computers, the newspaper is handwritten and then photocopied. But they also believe writing stories by hand, in a place where newspapers weren’t available before Andharmanik began, makes the paper feel more intimate and brings their community closer together.
Finally, at around 11am, when the last boxes of fish have been loaded onto carts and the shop floor has been cleaned, Hasan prepares to head home.
He hops onto a van-gari – a battery-driven, three-wheeled bicycle with a large wooden platform at the rear of the vehicle where passengers sit – to get home.
As Hasan climbs into the vehicle, he explains that the three-room home he shares with his wife, Salma Begum, whom he married in 2013, and three daughters, is also the editorial headquarters for Andharmanik. It is where he meets with the team once or twice in each publication cycle.
‘My village’
On the bumpy, broken road to his home, past paddy fields and scattered houses, a few two-wheelers and electric rickshaws passing by in the opposite direction, Hasan explains what drove him to start a newspaper.
“I used to write a lot of poems in my childhood,” he says, speaking loudly over the noisy van-gari engine. “Reading and writing always attracted me.”
He would read works by the Indian Nobel prize-winning poet, Rabindranath Tagore, and self-help books. But despite his love of reading and learning, he wasn’t able to finish school. When he was 14, Hasan, the eldest of two brothers and two sisters, had to drop out to work as a day labourer to support his family. “I was supposed to pass my secondary school certification (SSC) exam back in 1996, but I couldn’t do it because of money problems,” he explains.
He didn’t complete his SSC examination (10th grade) until the age of 35 in 2015. Two years later, he finished high school. In 2021, he enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree at a college in Kalapara, about 10km (6.2 miles) away. Having to juggle supporting his family with the newspaper and his studies, he is just now in his second semester. This has been an important journey because the future of the newspaper hinges on it, he says.
Hasan wants to register the newspaper in the district as an official media organisation, as he believes this would help protect it from political volatility. “For that, the rules are that the publisher has to be a graduate,” he says.
The idea for the paper arose in June 2016 when Hasan met Rafiqul Montu, a Dhaka-based environmental journalist who was visiting the area. Montu covers the impact of the climate crisis in Bangladesh’s coastal areas and travels the region throughout the year for his work. One day, Hasan saw him taking pictures of the Andharmanik River. Curious, he went to talk to him.
As they spoke, Hasan shared some of his poems and other writings. In those, he talked about his village’s problems – like the cyclones that afflict them or worsening climate conditions for farmers. No newspaper covered these stories, and with the local government often slow to help, people felt neglected.
Montu, impressed by what he heard, encouraged him to turn these stories into a newspaper.
“He wanted to do something for his community,” Montu explains. “I told him he could publish a newspaper and cover local news. I said he should focus on spreading good faith and hope in his community.”
He suggested naming the paper after the river where they spoke and taught Hasan how to write a story, craft headlines and take photos with his mobile phone.
“Montu bhai (brother) is my ustaad (mentor),” Hasan says. “He inspired me to write stories about my village and people’s lives – both problems and solutions. I had never thought of becoming a newspaper publisher since I can’t afford to be one. But it’s been six years that Andharmanik has been coming out.”
As a tribute to the working-class community of West Sonatala, the paper’s first issue was published in 2019 on May 1, Labour Day.
Forgotten by the world
Around noon, and under a light drizzle, Hasan nears his village in the quiet countryside. Green rice fields spread out from both sides of the road, and the trees lining it are wet from the rain.
Ducks swim in a few ponds along the roadside. The van-gari bounces over the last stretch of broken road until it finally runs out altogether. This is as far as the driver can go.
From there, it is a 10-minute walk along muddy paths to reach Hasan’s house.
“Officially, the road comes up to my house,” he says, “but this is what it looks like.”
A narrow strip of slushy mud is all there is to walk on, and the monsoon has made conditions worse. Villagers have no choice but to walk barefoot, holding their shoes or sandals.
“Wearing shoes isn’t practical as they can get stuck in the mud and cause someone to slip and fall,” Hasan says as he hurries to meet his team, who will arrive for a 1pm meeting to discuss ideas for the August edition. The newspaper started with 10 contributors and has grown to a team of 17 reporters who contribute stories and photos voluntarily.
“In our meetings, we share story ideas, but also talk about our own lives and families. Most times my wife gives us tea and muri (puffed rice),” he adds.
West Sonatala is home to 618 families – mostly farmers, fishermen and daily wage labourers. Electricity only arrived a few years ago.
“There’s one community clinic in the village with no doctors. People who fall sick in the village are taken to hospitals in Kalapara, a small sub-district town which is an hour-long drive,” Hasan says.
“No national or regional newspapers come to the village, and most homes don’t have a TV. Those with smartphones watch the news there, but the internet is so patchy, even that’s difficult,” he adds, gesturing at his mobile phone, which shows no network connection.
“Our area is so remote and cut off from basic information that we feel forgotten by the mainstream world,” he says. “This feeling of being left behind was what drove me to start Andharmanik. It’s our community newspaper to tell our own stories.”
‘A collective’
In Hasan’s living room is a wall covered with framed newspaper clippings and a few bookshelves packed with Bengali books. A long, wooden table sits in the centre where Hasan’s reporters gather, arriving one by one along the muddy paths. Three have braved the heavy rain to make it there today. Abdul Latif is the first to arrive, followed by Russiah Begum, then Nazrul Islam Bilal. They enter the room with smiles on their faces, asking about each other’s wellbeing by saying, “Kemon asen?” (“How are you?” in Bengali).
The group is small, but diverse, and they all live near each other within a cluster of villages. Abdul, 42, dressed in a crisp, white checkered shirt, is an English teacher in high school. Nazrul, 31, is an electrician. Russiah, 43, is one of three women on the team, and runs a tailoring business from her home in West Sonatala.
The two other members of the core team who have been prevented by the rain from attending the meeting are Sahana Begum, 55, who walks with a limp in her right leg due to polio. Sahana, who is also a seamstress, lives in West Sonatala and writes about women’s issues. There is also 29-year-old Ashish Garami, the only Hindu member of the team. He belongs to a minority group in Bangladesh, which in recent years has reportedly faced discrimination.
Other contributors work as e-rickshaw drivers and farmers, while some are unemployed.
“We work as a collective. Our newspaper focuses on local news, community events, and what happens in West Sonatala and sometimes nearby villages,” says Abdul, who joined Andharmanik in 2021. “In this edition, I am going to write about the bad road conditions,” he adds. “I’ll show how people are suffering because of it during the monsoon.”
The school where he teaches is three kilometres (1.9 miles) from his home, and he has to cross the Andharmanik River by boat each day to reach it.
“Crisis is the reason Andharmanik is published. The way Hasan pointed out the problems of our village through his writings inspired me to join the team,” he says.
‘Something beautiful happened’
Russiah has been with Hasan’s team since the beginning. She explains that she finished 10th grade before marrying a farmer from the village. To help support her family, she started a tailoring business, which became a window into the village’s hidden struggles. “When women come to me to stitch their clothes, they open their hearts,” she says. “I hear about problems that never make it to the outside world – especially the pain that women and children carry in silence.”
One of her stories was about a woman named Abejaan Begum from Rehmatpur village, a few kilometres from West Sonatala. Abejaan had lost her house to devastating floods in 2023 and had been forced to decamp to a makeshift hut made of plastic sheets.
“My story was shared by Hasan on his Facebook page,” Begum says. “Then something beautiful happened – help started pouring in from Bangladeshis living abroad. In total, she received 60,000 taka ($420) to build a new house and buy a few goats.” Today, Abejaan is living with dignity again in a three-room house, Russiah says.
Their stories have helped others. For one edition, Hasan wrote a poem about a child in his village named Rubina who lived in a broken mud hut with her grandmother and mother, who had mental health problems and was kept in chains. Because they were so poor, Rubina was forced to beg for food. After Hasan published the poem, it was widely read and caught the attention of local government officials, who decided to give Rubina and her family some land and a house.
Hasan and his team often focus on stories about how people are affected by the climate crisis. The coastal areas of Bangladesh are particularly vulnerable to flooding, heatwaves, rising sea levels and saltwater intrusion. Bilal owns a small rice field, and he feels connected to other farmers in the area, particularly as he sees his harvest get smaller every year due to the erratic rainfall.
“In the next issue, I’ll write about the struggles of local day labourers during the monsoon,” he says.
Hasan’s reporters submit their stories on sheets from notebooks. “Our contributors send me their stories in handwritten notes. I make the final decision on what goes in the paper and edit the language,” he says. He then writes out the stories with a fountain pen on A3-size paper and has these photocopied at a copy shop in Kalapara.
Each newspaper is four pages long and bound together using colourful plastic tape. Hasan makes 300 copies – each of which costs him approximately 10 taka ($0.08) to publish. The process is labour-intensive and the final handwriting, printing and binding takes about a week.
Once published, Hasan and his team distribute the paper in West Sonatala and the nearby villages of Tungibari, Chandpara, Rehmatpur and Fatehpur. They have no newspaper stall or subscription system, relying solely on local demand. They give it away for free or, where they can, sell it at cost. “People are poor in our village, so it’s mostly given free. Honestly, I don’t make any money out of it. This is not my goal,” Hasan says.
A loyal reader
Azizur Rehman Khan, 84, a resident of West Sonatala, is one of the newspaper’s most loyal readers and Hasan’s neighbour. He has read every issue for the past two years and happily pays for each issue, which is delivered to him personally by Hasan.
“I have seen Parvez since his childhood days,” Azizur says. “I love his passion and motivation to tell stories of happiness and sadness of our villagers. When the rest of the world forgot us, it is Andharmanik that shares our story to the world.”
The former tax officer says he understands the financial insecurity that Hasan shoulders in order to publish the newspaper. However, he adds, “I pray to Allah that there will be a day when everything will fall into place and this paper will be published fortnightly.”
Khan lives a couple of kilometres from the Andharmanik River. He explains the meaning behind the name, which comes from two Bengali words – “andhar” meaning dark and “manik” meaning jewel.
Looking out at the dark, rain-heavy sky beyond the doorway of his house, he quietly adds, “Hasan is our ‘Andharmanik’ – the shining jewel in our darkness.”
The post ‘Our story’: A day in the life of a handwritten newspaper in Bangladesh appeared first on Al Jazeera.