“How tragic it would be if you were wasted”, made me smile in a melancholic way. I know moments when “unnecessary things are our only necessities”. And I’ve not been hesitant to give “rebellion its fascination” and “disobedience its charm.”
It concerns me that Tate’s apologists range from impressionable boys in my grade 9 classroom to 30-something-year-old single dads. My own mother calls me a ‘feminist’ with such chagrin in her tone, it begins to feel like a slur.
This is not surprising in a country where adolescents are generally discouraged from thinking about politics and social issues, because these supposedly only concern adults.
The gravity of writing has always come from the writer. A piece of literature cannot be judged without the whys and hows, and these questions are impossible to answer without sentience.
This ultimately brings out the question; is the Dhaka International Trade Fair still relevant, or has it become much more than just an annual fair?
Where Faham Abdus Salam calls Bengalis mediocre, in my soon-to-be-published book, Before You Shame My People, I see Bangladeshis as a highly promising nation of tortured people who, at the same time, have dissented against and been crushed by the powers of colonialism, imperialism, and an ancestral and oligarchical political system.
There is a little more than your own thoughts influencing your pop culture takes.
If anything, the constant targeting of Shakib Khan should be a source of self-reflection for our society.
It is also etched in the corners of multiple pages of the notebook I am writing this draft in. It is on my passport, also on my pajamas. It is the word the world knows me by—my name. Specifically, my last name, Nuri.
“How tragic it would be if you were wasted”, made me smile in a melancholic way. I know moments when “unnecessary things are our only necessities”. And I’ve not been hesitant to give “rebellion its fascination” and “disobedience its charm.”
It concerns me that Tate’s apologists range from impressionable boys in my grade 9 classroom to 30-something-year-old single dads. My own mother calls me a ‘feminist’ with such chagrin in her tone, it begins to feel like a slur.
This is not surprising in a country where adolescents are generally discouraged from thinking about politics and social issues, because these supposedly only concern adults.
The gravity of writing has always come from the writer. A piece of literature cannot be judged without the whys and hows, and these questions are impossible to answer without sentience.
This ultimately brings out the question; is the Dhaka International Trade Fair still relevant, or has it become much more than just an annual fair?
Where Faham Abdus Salam calls Bengalis mediocre, in my soon-to-be-published book, Before You Shame My People, I see Bangladeshis as a highly promising nation of tortured people who, at the same time, have dissented against and been crushed by the powers of colonialism, imperialism, and an ancestral and oligarchical political system.
There is a little more than your own thoughts influencing your pop culture takes.
If anything, the constant targeting of Shakib Khan should be a source of self-reflection for our society.
It is also etched in the corners of multiple pages of the notebook I am writing this draft in. It is on my passport, also on my pajamas. It is the word the world knows me by—my name. Specifically, my last name, Nuri.
Communal and nationalistic expressions in our education system are not uncommon.