While travelling in Bangladesh, I had already visited places such asbrick kilns,，river ports,，shipyards,，granaries,and the like. A local photographer friend asked whether I wanted to visit a railway station, but I hesitated. I had never seen places like the brick kilns or granaries, so they were worth exploring. But railway stations—what country doesn’t have those? China certainly has no shortage of vast, modern ones.
© Richard HuangMy friend said, “The station may look the same day after day, but the people passing through it are always changing. Across all 365 days of the year, no two people and no two events are ever the same.”
He had a point: the station remains, while travellers flow through it like water. So I added the railway station to our itinerary.
© Richard HuangThe station we visited may not have been the main one, as neither the trains nor the crowds were particularly frequent. Yet whenever a train stopped, a great rush of people still swept past us. I saw hundreds upon hundreds of different faces—some weary, some excited, some anxious, some bewildered. Behind each of those faces lay a story from somewhere far away…
(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard HuangPerhaps because this was not the main station, no one checked tickets on the platform. Those with tickets boarded the carriages; those without climbed onto the roof. The police had little to do beyond keeping order, so one officer simply settled down for a nap.
(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard HuangI had never seen anything quite like a train covered with people. When I asked my friend about it, he explained that those too poor to afford a ticket rode on the roof or clung to the outside. The authorities had tried to stop it, but there was little they could do.
© Richard HuangWhen the people on the roof saw us taking photographs, they waved.
© Richard HuangIt is, of course, extremely dangerous. Many people lose their lives this way every year.
© Richard HuangRagged street children with time on their hands were a common sight at the station. Whenever a train stopped, they clambered on and off—partly from boredom and mischief, though they probably did a little pilfering as well. Each time a train was about to leave, the railway staff had to chase them off.
© Richard HuangThis boy had once been a street child himself. He was one of the lucky ones: he had found odd jobs at the station.
© Richard HuangWhenever a train pulled in, he had to climb onto the roof and refill its water tanks from the mains supply. It was child labour, certainly, but still better than living on the streets.
© Richard HuangThe station’s daily operations depended on the labour of workers from such humble backgrounds.
© Richard HuangThe passengers came from every walk of life, their expressions just as varied. At first, when I saw this middle-aged woman sitting against the side of the train, I thought she meant to take her own life. Later, when I saw her gather up all her bags and bundles, I guessed she had simply claimed herself a free seat.
(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard Huang
© Richard HuangPerhaps this boy was travelling with his mother during the school holidays to visit relatives far away. On his first journey from home, his eyes could not conceal his mingled excitement and unease.
(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard Huang
© Richard Huang(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard Huang(This photograph was published on 1x.com.)
© Richard HuangThe journey might have been pleasant or exhausting. Either way, plenty of people simply lay down and fell asleep at the station.
© Richard HuangThey were too tired to worry about appearances or their surroundings.
© Richard HuangSleeping inside a carriage must have been quite comfortable. The only problem was that if the train departed, they might sleep straight through to somewhere else.
© Richard HuangAmong the passengers, a barefoot man dressed in red caught our attention. The curious snake-shaped object in his hand intrigued us as well.
© Richard HuangWe asked if we could take his portrait and, while we were at it, enquired about him—where he had come from and where he was going. He told us that a religious gathering was being held that week, drawing people from all over the country. Everyone had to wear red, and the event would last several days. Only then did we notice how many people passing through the station were dressed in red or wearing red scarves. Presumably, they were all headed to the same gathering. And just like that, our next destination was decided: we would go and see it for ourselves.
© Richard HuangWhenever a train pulled in, a tide of people surged towards the station exit. The cycle repeated itself, like the ebb and flow of the sea. In the few short hours I spent there, I could not learn every traveller’s story. Each carried their own away with them, vanishing into the vast sea of humanity…