Travelogue | The Daily Star
  • Ogling vintage cars and food at Rot Fai Market, Bangkok

    Rot Fai Market means Train Market because it is situated near the train tracks behind the famous and massive Chatuchak Market. Consider it like a museum where you get to take food and drinks inside.

  • Jewel of the Indian Ocean

    Whenever we go to any country, we tend to take our preconceived notions of that place with us. I had this idea that Sri Lanka would be like Bangladesh and the people would resemble South Indians with the accompanying Tamil accent. I could not have been more wrong. In fact, this trip has left me wondering exactly how I got such ideas in the first place. The soft-spoken eloquence and refined attitude of the Sri

  • Country by City

    I spent a lot of time in my twenties travelling through Europe and North Africa. I did the typical weekend tourist one-two step: touched down in one city, did a whirlwind tour of the most Instagrammable spots, indulged in some good meals, and if I wasn't too jet-lagged, checked out the nightlife. In and out, another country on the books. At the rate I was going, I would have made it to my goal of 30 countries, but by then my approach to travelling had changed.

  • Through Santal villages, midnight walks and ghost stories

    Smells evoke emotionally charged memories. Like the smell of freshly picked green mangoes after the season's first Kalbaishakhi or the smell of clothes washed with Chaka Ball soap and laid out to dry on the wires running along the village front yard. However, Beautiful Bangladesh—our tagline for tourism—has its inimitable share of horrible smells that also manage to etch themselves into our memories.

  • The Time I Was Arrested in Japan and the Police Served Me Green Tea

    In 2007, I was working in Nagasaki, Japan, during my college summer break. My team traveled around the prefecture, teaching English to adorable Japanese school children of various ages. In between, we got to enjoy breaks, and stay with host families so we could live like the locals.

  • Auschwitz: Reflections and Realisations

    Neat rows of red-brick buildings, bathed in brilliant sunlight, stretched out under an azure sky. The carefully manicured grounds, and the forest beyond, were a lush green. One could be forgiven for mistaking it for a well-run summer camp. It certainly did not look anything like what had been portrayed in Schindler's List or the myriad of Holocaust literature. Even the wrought-iron sign above the gates reading

  • Thoughts from Chitwan - Where the wild ones roam free

    A massive rhino rustled through the tall elephant grass and charged at us. Ears cocked, nostrils flared wide open and tail held high, the animal seemed to take up the entirety of the unique Chitwan landscape. Its distinctive one horn cut through the thick humid air of the Terai, its muscles rippled in tension under the thick armour like skin.

  • The Time I Took A 19-hour Bus Ride Across East Africa, Because Why Not

    My work visa in Tanzania was about to expire, and I needed to do a quick trip out of the country in order to renew it. I couldn't be gone for too long, so it made sense to go somewhere nearby—to one of the neighbouring countries, like… Kenya. Plus, I had a friend in Nairobi whom I hadn't seen in years, which also meant free accommodation...

  • Love in Tokyo

    When I first stepped in Tokyo streets, getting out of the Aoyama Itchome subway station, it was late evening, and it was raining, as it would rain casually in any season in Dhaka. The modernist styled buildings reminded me of a Motijheel, the sound of light water drops on the pitch black roads reminded me of Dhaka's soundscape in any

  • Ambling through the City of Victory

    Travel back to the bygone days of the Vijayanagara dynasty. The ruin of the ancient city of Hampi today stands amidst gargantuan boulders. Climb up the 575 steps to the Anjaneya temple to view the sunset and hike atop the Matanga hill for a sublime sunrise, or take a coracle ride across the Tungabhadra river during the wee hours, the only sound breaking the silence being the swish-swash of the oar dipping in the water.