Coconuts, jackfruit, fish, papaya and rice… there's generosity to its geography.
It was after evening when we sat in the living room ready for adda, a chat that could foreseeably last half the night. Zaharul Islam, 50, had just arrived in the city from his home in Dinajpur's Ghoraghat. He found his way to my place from Gabtoli Bus Stand.
Out of the chute, large rocks tumble. Bang, crash, bang! The oversized shed is dusty, the noise deafening. People in hardhats and blue overalls with reflective strips can barely talk over the din.
Coconuts, jackfruit, fish, papaya and rice… there's generosity to its geography.
It was after evening when we sat in the living room ready for adda, a chat that could foreseeably last half the night. Zaharul Islam, 50, had just arrived in the city from his home in Dinajpur's Ghoraghat. He found his way to my place from Gabtoli Bus Stand.
Out of the chute, large rocks tumble. Bang, crash, bang! The oversized shed is dusty, the noise deafening. People in hardhats and blue overalls with reflective strips can barely talk over the din.
