
Sushmita S. Preetha
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
The writer is an activist, journalist and outraged feminist.
THE SOUND AND THE FURY
The writer is an activist, journalist and outraged feminist.
Dhanmondi these days is a cacophony of people, traffic, events, vendors, schools, hospitals, restaurants, and construction sites.
There are two kinds of numbers that I find difficult to digest these days. The more I try to swallow the one, the more unpalatable the other becomes.
The authorities can’t escape liability for deaths at BRT site by blaming the contractors
Why do we never question the psychological impact on children stuck between two parents in an unhappy marriage?
Some of us may breathe a sigh of relief that Hriday Mondal, imprisoned for 19 days and denied bail twice, for trying to explain the difference between science and religion to his students, has been granted bail.
Two dangerous policy drafts regulating our online presence have been prepared right in front of our noses, and except for a few usual suspects crying wolf, there has been little public outrage over it.
Anyone who has seen the video of Chattogram-based journalist Golam Sarwar—taken shortly after he was found unconscious on the banks of a canal following a disappearance of three days—is unlikely to forget the helplessness and fear coursing through his bruised being, as he kept on uttering the words, “Please, brother, I won’t write anymore.”
The scenes are at once familiar and unfamiliar.
After a decade of ruthlessly pursuing the world’s dirtiest fuel, the Ministry of Power, Energy and Mineral Resources (MoPEMR) is contemplating closing down 13 of the 18 previously approved coal-based power projects around the country and apparently switching to “cleaner” alternatives.
The announcement that a five-star “Marriott Hotel and Amusement Park” is being built in Bandarban no doubt comes as welcome news to Bengali elites and the nouveau riche looking for novel and Instagrammable ways of spending their weekends and disposable incomes in the luscious hills of the CHT.
I’ve long come to accept that there’s no such thing as a suitable adaption of a favourite book. Yet, when it was announced that Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy (1993), a novel I have loved through the decades, was going to be adapted by the BBC for a miniseries—and directed by Mira Nair, no less—I couldn’t help but feel hopeful about the possibilities. Could this really be… the one?
For the last 45 days, at least 40 (former) workers of Tazreen Fashions Limited have been staging a protest on the sidewalks outside the Press Club, unnoticed, for the most part, by the media.
October 7, 2020 marked the first death anniversary of second-year Buet student, Fahad Abrar, who was tortured to death by members of Bangladesh Chhatra League (BCL) for posting a criticism of an agreement signed between Bangladesh and India on the use of the Mongla port, water sharing and export of energy sources.
If life were a film with a wholesome ending, traffickers of the 106 Bangladeshis stuck in Vietnam would have been swiftly arrested.
In a rare instance in the long and not-so-glorious history of extra-judicial killings in Bangladesh, justice, it appears, is on its way to being served for the murder of Major (retd) Rashed Sinha.
It really warms my cold, judgmental heart when I hear grandiloquent statements from Bangladeshi RMG factory owners about the importance of ethical business as they plead with big global brands to “do the right thing” and “stand by poor Bangladeshi workers”.
You may have already seen the social media campaign ‘#payup’, asking Kardashian sisters Kendall and Kylie Jenner to pay up their suppliers in Bangladesh. You may have also read about British brand, Debenhams, which is asking for a whopping 90 percent discount on products from 40 suppliers in the country. What you may not know is that these are only two of at least 1,931 brands which have either delayed, put on hold, or straight-up cancelled their orders since the onset of Covid-19, as per data received from the BGMEA.
That capitalism is cruel should come as no surprise to those who understand either the meaning of cruelty or the logic of capitalism.
A barrage of fireworks light up the smoggy skies of Dhaka and I feel as if I’m in the opening scenes of a dystopian film.
The soft light of the setting sun illuminates the entire section every time I walk in, mostly because I AM ALWAYS LATE. On one side white balloons hang, on another side a dart board.
Eight years ago, I saw a small ad in the Friday magazine of The Daily Star which changed the course of my life—for better or worse.
In December 2018 and January 2019, workers from Bangladesh's ready-made garment (RMG) industry went on spontaneous mass protests and strikes around major industrial belts in Dhaka.
"Ultimately, in the long run, whether we win or lose, we are not going to be on their side. So we might as well do what we have to do as well as we can."
“Look, just look how happy and innocent he was,” says Hashi Begum as she hands me a mobile phone and points to the photo gallery.
On November 20, an undergraduate student of BRAC University (BRACU) lost his life in the university's residential campus, referred to by students as TARC, in Savar—according to official accounts, he succumbed to his injuries on the way to the hospital after jumping from the fifth floor of his dormitory.
When you meet Ayub Bachchu off stage, it is easy enough to forget that he is a legendary rockstar. The signs are there, of course—in his all-black attire, the exclusive guitars that he fiddles with from time to time and the constant influx of different types of people hoping for an audience with the king of rock.
Renu Begum* can remember little of the life she had before she moved to Dhaka and joined a garments factory at the age of 12. Her father, a fisherman, had moved to Dhaka with his family in the early 90s. But there was not much an unskilled fisherman from the village could do in a city teeming with unemployed labourers who, like him, had migrated to the capital, dreaming of untold opportunities.
A year ago, when tens of thousands of destitute Rohingya, fleeing systematic violence in Rakhine State, had arrived at the outskirts of the small tourist town of Cox's Bazar in Bangladesh, locals had opened up their hearts and their homes to their “Muslim brothers and sisters” from neighbouring Myanmar.
There is a need for a descriptive narrative as opposed to a simplistic narrative. The Fhuljaan story is a clear example. Also the issue of anonymity vs confidentiality—do we anonymise these accounts or keep it confidential or publicise these names? I went for anonymising, but many of these women said, "these are my words, why isn’t my name there?"
Banu Begum, a 38-year-old garment worker, leaves home at 7.30 in the morning, drops off her two daughters at a nearby madrasa and then walks to her factory a few kilometres away.
People tell her she is lucky to be alive, to have escaped the “clutches of death”. They tell her to “count her blessings” for making it out of the rubble that was once Rana Plaza, with her limbs intact. They remind her of all those who didn't share her fate.
1971, for families torn apart or displaced by the war, was a time of profound uncertainty, of not knowing where or how their loved ones were, of waiting for news – any news – good or bad.
The word “development” - eliciting as it does grandiloquent notions of progress - has become, at least in Bangladesh, something of a red herring.
Bangladesh Environmental Lawyers Association's (BELA) chief executive Syeda Rizwana Hasan talks to Sushmita S Preetha of The Daily
When people resist what the government would like to wholesale, impose, or force-feed as “development”, democracy seems quite at ease to quell people's resistances, violate pledges and dismiss the age-old demands of the adivasi communities.
Last week, Freedom House, an independent watchdog organisation that conducts research and advocacy on democracy, political freedom...
On the onset, it seems women are everywhere in the media. You switch on the TV, there is inevitably an attractive woman luring you
Eleven years ago, on a hot, stuffy day not unlike today, a building had come crashing down on the sweating workers of a sweater factory.
We are quite happy, thank you very much, to superficially engage with an issue and then sweep it under the rug as soon as the day is over.
AS we celebrate another Amar Ekushey, we remind ourselves of the importance of language in forming and defining our identities. We
AT the risk of sounding “anti-growth” and “anti-exports” – and heck, of damaging the “image” of the country (because, apparently,
The impassioned descriptions all collide against, but dissolve into each other – the past, present and future, stories of pain, aspiration, fear and anger compete against each other to be heard.
We must confront the uncomfortable truth that beyond paying lip-service to the “ideals of secularism and tolerance” (if that!), we have done precious little to show we care about the Hindu population of this country.
Forty-four years since independence, must we remain a caricature of a dysfunctional, postcolonial state where law enforcers...
We have been taught contradictory versions of history that are outright lies at worst and simplistic at best, to the extent that we now either disavow the atrocities of the Liberation War or use “Muktijuddher Chetona” as a pretext for justifying repressive measures and silencing dissent.
Wouldn't any criticism against the government or any form of dissent then be reason enough to have an NGO's registration cancelled? In addition, going by Sengupta's comments, are we to accept that the TIB – and by corollary, any other NGO – can never make a comment on the parliament?
When she first landed in earthquake-ridden Haiti, Rockfar Sultana Khanam, commander of the first ever all-female UN peacekeeping
We were “assured” after the attack that the in/action of the law enforcers would be “looked into” and “action taken against anyone found negligent of his duties”. However, till now, no administrative or legal action has been taken against any person
Dhanmondi these days is a cacophony of people, traffic, events, vendors, schools, hospitals, restaurants, and construction sites.
There are two kinds of numbers that I find difficult to digest these days. The more I try to swallow the one, the more unpalatable the other becomes.
The authorities can’t escape liability for deaths at BRT site by blaming the contractors
Why do we never question the psychological impact on children stuck between two parents in an unhappy marriage?
Some of us may breathe a sigh of relief that Hriday Mondal, imprisoned for 19 days and denied bail twice, for trying to explain the difference between science and religion to his students, has been granted bail.
Two dangerous policy drafts regulating our online presence have been prepared right in front of our noses, and except for a few usual suspects crying wolf, there has been little public outrage over it.
Anyone who has seen the video of Chattogram-based journalist Golam Sarwar—taken shortly after he was found unconscious on the banks of a canal following a disappearance of three days—is unlikely to forget the helplessness and fear coursing through his bruised being, as he kept on uttering the words, “Please, brother, I won’t write anymore.”
The scenes are at once familiar and unfamiliar.
After a decade of ruthlessly pursuing the world’s dirtiest fuel, the Ministry of Power, Energy and Mineral Resources (MoPEMR) is contemplating closing down 13 of the 18 previously approved coal-based power projects around the country and apparently switching to “cleaner” alternatives.
The announcement that a five-star “Marriott Hotel and Amusement Park” is being built in Bandarban no doubt comes as welcome news to Bengali elites and the nouveau riche looking for novel and Instagrammable ways of spending their weekends and disposable incomes in the luscious hills of the CHT.