As I watched the cetaceans from a pier at Sadar Ghat in Dhaka, the fog lifted to reveal what looked like a graveyard on the opposite bank of the Buriganga River. Intrigued, I decided to explore this area. I love getting directions from locals, which often leads to unexpected adventures. After sharing numerous sweet chais and exchanging laughter and handshakes, I found someone who knew how to guide me to my destination.

I arrived at Char Kaliganj slum, one of Asia's largest shipyards, where I could delve deeper into the ship graveyard and the lives of those working tirelessly to dismantle the vessels. The air was thick with diesel, mud clung to my feet, and workers were surrounded by the glow of cutting torches. Above, I spotted funambulists navigating the ship decks, relying solely on their balance for protection.

The noise was overwhelming as thousands of hammers rhythmically struck the massive ships, marking their demise. These supertankers, after 25 to 30 years at sea, come here to be dismantled, allowing their materials to be recycled. When a ship is beached, its fuel and chemicals are siphoned out and sold, often leaking into the Buriganga River and increasing pollution.

Laborers, some missing fingers or eyes, face extreme hazards in this low-paying industry. Shihab, a 58-year-old worker, shared the grim reality: "Here, we call them ship-tattoos." He lamented how, in wealthier countries, ship breaking wouldn't be allowed on their shores due to environmental concerns.

Char Kaliganj employs about 15,000 workers, from ages 8 to 80, many of whom forgo formal education. Despite the hazardous conditions, they find employment to support their families. I was particularly struck by the process of creating new ship propellers, where workers mold sand and ash with their bare hands before pouring liquid bronze into the cast.

Amir, just 11, has been working since he was three. "I miss school and friends," he said, "but I’m proud to help my family pay off the loan for our house."