Rebecca Haque

Rebecca Haque is Professor, Department of English, University of Dhaka.

Pandemic Nocturne 1: December Dirge

Ask me not of Grief. For I have been burnt by its friendly fire with blood and bits of oozing mortal flesh spun flaky and ashen by its biting cold breath.

Memory

Memory is a winding range Of coniferous mountain pine Catching the fiery light

CONTINENTAL DRIFTER: SOLO TRAVELLER

Today, sitting on my balcony in Dhaka, with my face to the south looking down at the green neighbourhood park, I look back on my

MISTY SWEETNESS

The little girl in the yellow summer frock looks up at the floating fluffy clouds. Wide-eyed, head tilted back, smiling at the gliding, feathery edges of the dense mass.

A grain of salt

Unbearable sticky sweaty subtropical hotness of August. Disgruntled and disgusted at the shocking turn of events following the popular “Quota” and “Safe Roads” movements.

A lament for lost space

Last week, The Daily Star's investigative reportage exposed the work of criminal gangs and henchmen stealing rich top soil from precious arable land to sell to powerful, profiteering brickfield owners.

Shadowtime: Notes on living in two temporal scales simultaneously

Memories of my father are keeping me awake tonight. Two hours to Fajr Azan on the Friday before Independence Day.

A Requiem for February

Pahela Falgun, the first day of spring, did not work its magic of rebirth upon my soul. I felt no quickening, burgeoning re-awakening of the creative spirit in myself, nor did I find it in the natural world around me.

June 6, 2017
June 6, 2017

Woodsman, spare that tree!

Did not Joyce Kilmer say, “I have never seen a poem as beautiful as a tree”?

March 26, 2017
March 26, 2017

Red sun and green earth

When, in March 1971, my eyes first beheld the radiant facsimile of the flag of Bangladesh – the small handprint of my deltaic

February 27, 2017
February 27, 2017

Poisoned Wells: A Tender Tale of Love and Death

when the well is dry,we learn the worth of water”—Benjamin Franklin

December 17, 2016
December 17, 2016

Three POEMS

Is there a silver moonstone for me

December 3, 2016
December 3, 2016

Sweet Springtime Snapshot

Springtime in Melbourne, her fifth time in this abode of blood-ties and new generation, but her first in this season of renewal.

November 5, 2016
November 5, 2016

VERNAL VISUAL: MELBOURNE DIURNAL

The diurnal and the nocturnal gyrations of the earth, the magnetic and gravitational attraction and repulsion of the celestial spheres

April 14, 2016
April 14, 2016

The soul in enduring clay

Potters and weavers and metalworkers and goldsmiths create dazzling, intricately-designed artifacts praised and highly prized by all who look upon them. Every harvest, or spring, autumn, and winter festival is a colourful carnival, with music and dance and ritual offerings and prayers.

December 14, 2015
December 14, 2015

Commemoration: Reading memorials as cultural texts

LITERATURE on commemoration has rapidly grown in the past twenty years. Scholars from a variety of disciplines, for example, from archeology, architecture, history, anthropology, psychology, philosophy, geography – and the more inclusive field under the rubric of Cultural Studies – are mapping the significance and role of “memory “. Commemoration is defined as a “call to remembrance“.

November 7, 2015
November 7, 2015

For a healthy body politic!

Look into your hearts, and hold fast to your strengths. Hunt down the demons, and rid our land of sickness and filth. Stand tall and be counted. Practice what you preach.

April 16, 2015
April 16, 2015

An educator's appraisal

As a public servant working in a public university, I take umbrage at the sharp disdain and negativity displayed by a faculty member of

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