ls Editor’s Note

Green all the way

There is something comforting about greens; large trees, small shrubs and bushes, potted plants, indoor plants, even weeds.
Call of the rivers

Majestic all the way, the sail is a sight to behold, and you can feel the wind propelling you onwards.
Everybody’s welcome to my city

I love my city! Yes, this very tattered, tainted, and terrifying (and just about every other bad adjective my dictionary can conjure up) city has a profound pull on me.
The saga of roses

Personally speaking, roses never topped my favourite flowers’ list; they do very little to move me. That claustrophobic red bouquet I once got on a Valentine’s Day from someone I was not too keen on, and that half dead rose stick I get on every Woman’s Day has ruined the flower for me. Even visiting the rose village at Savar did little to change the situation.
Set a picnic, please

I have quite the humongous extended family. For the sake of clarity, just my first cousins alone sum up to a hundred plus figure. My eldest cousin is older than my mother, and my mum is now in her early ’70s!
A walk towards prosperity

I woke up with a longing that rainy morning, my plants were all beaming in the rain drenched sunlight, and the air was thick with a muddy, grassy scent and I wanted to go on a long drive; in fact, I wanted to drive to an unknown remote place and buy fresh organic vegetables.
Brave new world

Last evening, I had to avail an Uber ride home, and since I was flat broke, and only had the smallest of changes, I had to stop by an ATM.
Sweets for my sweet

It was an early autumn morning. The village was cloaked in a blanket of mild mist, and the cool breeze of the wee hours carried with it the scent of the rain soaked muddy paddy fields.
All day, everyday!

My mornings are pathetic. Like all the ladies out there, juggling work and family; with crying toddlers or school going kids, with angry teenagers, or nerdy university-going grown-ups, and not to forget a difficult child-like adult heading for work — our mornings are worse than any migraine headache.
Heaven on earth

I found paradise at a quaint pond on the crack of dawn last Friday. I must jot down the exact moment before memory fades, as I wish to return to that exact moment time and again, even if it is only through the words I write.
Our forgone rustic ways

The emerald green taro leaves stoutly stood its ground amid my peridot bush of bracken ferns. It’s an unusual place for taro leaves to sprout, but nonetheless, the sun and the rains did bless me with an expectant gift.
Herbs for my heart

It would inevitably be late in the afternoons; after wrapping up her daily household chores and completing Zuhr prayers, Nanu would sit down to have her lunch, which in itself was an art, almost like a ceremony of relishing heavenly manna.
It’s good to be back

If it was a 25-day Caribbean holiday (mum says you always have to dream big, that’s beside the point though) coming back to work would have been a dread and almost a matter to contemplate desertion.
A summertime Eid story

His desirous lovey-dovey stare and her coy smile says that the young couple on the rickshaw on that breezy sunlit Chaitra afternoon are in love, and perhaps soon to be wedded. They are a good-looking couple, the girl holding a packet with lowered gaze and the boy looking at her in a manner
Aggression: It’s the name of the game now

What separates man from animal? The fact that we can speak? Or the fact that we have opposable thumbs? How about that fact that we have a complex society and technology that hurtled us to the moon?
All about regrets

At the cross roads of life, we all contemplate on the what if’s? Yes, that includes the ‘what if I took a sound decision on my finances,
Celebrating Shab-e-barat

It was almost like Eid, with the slight difference being in the exchange of trays full of gourmet goodies with neighbours and friends, and praying with family the entire night instead of visiting them
Deshi begins at home

Walking down the brick lane of the 200-year-old Panam Nagar had me in a fully nostalgic mood, my usual dreamy self reminiscing of the bygone glamour, and the grandeur of the lifestyles of traders and landlords.
Life of the party

My friend is a brilliant orator; even her most illogical arguments seem reasonable because of how she narrates them.
Lives not numbers

I sympathise with the bereaved family. I sympathise with the 'may-have-been' young love crying her heart out. I feel for friends who may have had shared notes for preparing a presentation at the university.
The mother and the daughter: that dynamic though

They say, times have changed; maybe they have, but as shocking as it seems mothers possibly still favour their sons over daughters.
Dry days ahead

I was just debating the other day whether a chilled lemonade, with loads of ice and a slice of squeezed green lime floating in a tall glass, the rim of the which is laced with salt and sugar crystals, can be called a mocktail.
Simply 'deshi'

Crossing the Meghna Bridge is a hurdle; the Gomti is another feat in itself, but once these obstacles are left behind, you are greeted by the fields full of green paddy and canary yellow mustard, swaying in the mid-morning breeze.
Through the scotched tape glass

A middle aged, pot-bellied, half-balding man, who looks like happy Buddha, except for the grouching squint on his face.
Green, I like

A dewy lawn full of velvety green grass, glistening in the dusky orange rays of a November sunset, is something I like.
Living on my own terms

My hate list is growing like school children on some iron and zinc fortified malt drink — in leaps and bounds. From being tagged in Facebook to every message, to getting distracted by
Dancing to life's tunes

When you are down and insomnia takes over, you get a tad hyper, but remember each rush is bound to be gushed out, that is the way it is, and you are always 'on the rebound' with life's complexities.
Confessions of a serotonin junkie

I am really old, almost at the age where I will need a cane stick to walk, so when I saw the bioscope man with his khartal — that wooden clapper instrument which has discs or plates that produce a clinking sound when clapped together — strumming a catchy tune; the dormant child in me just leapt out.
Of teas and marmalade skies

I am not a winter person; absolutely not, and I have loads of reasons to defend my stance. However, there are things about the chilly dusk that I love, and those are tea parties and barbecues.
DIMENSIONS OF DURGA

This week is all about the celebration of Durga Puja. Star Lifestyle showcases the many facets of Durga and her avatars, the goddess as a symbol of a valiant woman, the mysticism of the colour that is red, and much more.