Sakhalin: A City Awakening from Silence

By Hossain Mohammad Sagar

The airplane touched down softly and I looked out of the window with surprise. Could this really be an island? The airport in Sakhalin was so modern, so polished, it felt like stepping into a bustling capital rather than Russia’s faraway eastern edge. But that was only the first clue: Sakhalin is no ordinary place. It is an island that once fell silent after the storms of history and now it is rising again—brick by brick, dream by dream.

Sakhalin carries the heavy memory of World War II. After fierce battles with Japan, the land seemed to retreat into quietness, its people surviving but not rushing. Yet silence never lasts forever. Walking out of the airport, the sight that greeted me was not stillness but movement—roads being laid, houses rising, factories taking shape. Even the volunteers who guided us spoke with pride: “Our city is being planned again, from the ground up.”

I had come here with fellow participants of the World Youth Festival. To us, Sakhalin was more than a stop on the map; it was a chance to breathe in the life of a city under construction. And what struck me most was its dual character. By day, machines roared, construction workers hammered, new towers grew taller against the sky. By night, as the clock struck ten, silence returned. Streets emptied, and in that stillness the sound of the sea carried through the darkness. Sakhalin is modern and rural at once—a place where nature’s rhythm still competes with human ambition.

The island’s wealth is not hidden. Beneath its soil lies natural gas; in its waters, endless schools of fish. These gifts of nature have turned Sakhalin into a land of opportunity. Work is abundant, industries are expanding and people are finding reasons to hope. You can see it in the restless cranes, the new factories and the glow in the eyes of young volunteers who believe their city is being born again.

Our journey was not just about sights; it was about stories. We met with the regional government, who spoke of Sakhalin’s vision to stand tall as a territory of openness, eager to cooperate with the world. We visited Sakhalin State University, where students shared their projects and dreams and the rector unveiled plans for a new campus and dormitories. I could almost see it in my mind’s eye—a lively hub where young people from Russia and beyond would gather, study, and shape the future together. Nearby, the future campus of SakhalinTech was already under construction, destined to be a magnet for talent and innovation.

But the past still speaks here. One of the most moving moments was laying flowers at the memorial to the heroes who liberated southern Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands. Volunteers told us stories of unimaginable sacrifice, of battles fought on this island soil. In those stories, I felt the weight of history pressing against the lightness of the present, reminding us that every new building here is raised on the foundation of memory.

As I walked through Sakhalin’s streets, I felt something more than curiosity. I felt affection. This was not just a city of concrete and steel—it was a city of resilience, of people determined to transform silence into progress. At night, the sea sang its eternal song; by day, the city answered with the rhythm of construction.

Sakhalin is not finished. It is becoming. And in that becoming lies its beauty. To stand here is to watch a city awaken from its long slumber, stretching toward the future with courage, with hope, and with love for the land it calls home.