Of meals that ended up as the pièce de résistance of journeys

Bourdain, the genius both in and out of the kitchen, once famously said, “Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.” There

Death is different for a daughter

We think of death as the great equaliser. We come to this world alone—as the saying goes—and so we take part of it alone too. The grief that consumes the deceased’s loved ones also seems like a universal experience, and so we console each other with words of

Down Memory Lane

During a chat with my mother one evening, I asked her, "Which belonging of yours do you cherish the most?” I expected her to name her favourite kitchen utensils (which she guards with her life by the way) or her money pouch or that mobile phone of hers which she uses to video call anyone and everyone at the oddest of hours.

My memory from a time in the past

They say, rereading a beloved childhood book, much later in your life, helps you rediscover yourself. The day afterpoet Al Mahmud's death, I reopened one of his poetry books, Pakhir Kachhe, Phooler Kachhe, the only collection of the poet I have ever read and owned.

Eishob Dinraatri

Every cat is a great teacher. I live with five and I know for a fact that they are.

The journey for a home

Anthropologist James Clifford says that the term travel can be understood as a form of 'global contacts' in a post-colonial word. I realised that a genuine traveller is reflective, moving across a landscape where things are in place.

A little bit of everything makes millennials the most anxious generation

The internet has had a complete ball of a year, thanks to millennials turning older and 'CRAY-zier' and fighting the growing costs of living. If you think that this 'I cannot buy a home because I spent all my money on avocadoes and that is why I am sad' is a problem just in the west, just drag your mouse and zoom in on Dhaka on the map (especially on the tri-state area).

Naiyor: A Tale of Two Passages in Two Eras

Imagine, dear reader, a youthful village belle. Transport yourself back 50 or 60 years ago. She lives with her husband and her in-laws in a farming homestead in rural East Bengal. It's been a few years since she arrived in her new home.

Thoughts on the childhood home

Often in conversations people bring up the difference between the words “home” and “house”, or in our case, the difference between “bari” and “basha”.

Boishommo - When freedom of action goes awry

Social media is, without a doubt, deeply entrenched in every aspect of my life. I have a Facebook account to appease prying family members, while I take to Instagram to share the more risqué highlights of the day.

The Kite flyers of Old Dhaka

As the rickshaw, painted bright with a distorted Bengal tiger and even more distorted images of Dhallywood stars, breaks through the sea of other rickshaws, the kites appear almost suddenly through the narrow old Dhaka skyline.

The case for plagiarism

Back in school, my friends and I had no access to the internet. This was due to our parents' steadfast belief that the internet was the root of all evil in this world.

Of odd jobs and old perspectives

For those who do not know, an odd job in Bangladesh is equivalent to a normal blue-collar job everywhere else in the world. In this country, it is generally associated with working in the hospitality industry or retail sector or driving a cab—jobs that are at times frowned upon and shrugged off into a category of its own with zero importance or worth attached to them.

The old man and the labyrinth of books

But what do you gain by giving? It teetered, the question, like a teacup on legs performing a balancing act, on the tip of my tongue, but—to my credit, to my utmost credit—I did not say it. Instead, I asked, gesturing to the brilliantly untidy pile of books, “Why give these away? And at so low a price?”

Rules of engagement

A nine-to-five workday spent dangerously close with the opposite sex in a sequestered office cubicle makes it painstakingly difficult for things not to get steamy once in a while.

The tales of Sonali: a 1992 Toyota Vista

The few times I tried fixing it up resulted in my thoughtful colleagues nicknaming it “Sonali Bank” since it kept swallowing up all my money. Here's the story of my car, my unhealthy obsession.

Translating Donald speak

Translating Donald Trump is, well, an awkward process. After all, the president of the free world has about as much respect for basic grammar, word choice and sentence structure as he does for immigrants, women and the environment.

My Bollywood love affair

You know that imaginary friend that every child grows up with? Mine was Rahul. Not a storybook character or a person I'd made up at random, but the Rahul of the dimpled smiles and a necklace that spelled 'COOL'.

push notification