As border control tightened, and passports, visas and land ports became mandatory, my bedridden, dying grandmother had lamented to me, "Seems like I won't be able to see my shoshurbari one last time before I die." She didn't.

Fast forward to the next generation, and my uncle did the same. He traversed the river to marry a girl from India, and on their way back to Bangladesh, while walking across the treeless char under the blazing summer sun, my newly-wed aunt fainted. A few years later, in 1990, my mother crossed the river to go there and back -- not to get married this time, but rather to shop for her wedding benarasi.

Just like a river could not keep my mother away from her coveted sari, immigration rules cannot keep the grooms and brides of Sonamasjid away from the wedding couture of Malda. If one can get someone to shop for their trousseau in Malda, there exists a group of people armed with visas and willing to make a day-trip to Malda to bring the goods back.

Outside the Sonamasjid land port, Bairul paced anxiously. "My nephew is getting married. We got our relatives in Malda to finish shopping for the bride and groom. Today, I sent a person to cross over and get the things from them. He should be back within the hour," he said.

Why did he choose Malda, instead of the divisional city of Rajshahi? "For the people of Chapai, Malda is closer and the goods are better. Especially the cosmetics, which are essential for brides."

At the Burimari-Changrabandha border, a bamboo enclosure exists at the zero point for people of Bangladesh and India to meet. The bamboo enclosure is unique -- two fences set a few feet apart run in parallel through the middle of the enclosure. People from either side of the border gather around the fences under the watchful eyes of the border patrols to yell pleasantries at each other. The idea is you can see but you can't touch.

Arif Hossain yelled at his uncle in Hindi, "And is everything else going good?" His uncle yelled back in the affirmative. The conversation died down and they gazed blankly at each other, both at a loss of words, both unable to share anything more than a longing look. I asked Arif whether his uncle visits them in Bangladesh.