Nazmun Afrad Sheetol

You know that feeling: you’re standing in front of your bookshelf, fingers trailing over spines, and you’re not just looking for a story. You’re looking for a companion—a voice that feels like a thought-daughter, a story born from the mind but nurtured by the heart, one that asks big questions but whispers them in your ear. Lately, my own shelf has been whispering back, and it’s been telling me to pass these whispers on to you.

The exhibition reimagines the book as a tactile, textile based vessel for memory, currently on view at Alliance Française Dhaka from March 10-18, 2026.

I’ve always been fascinated by what stories can tell us about the inner lives (what men like to call the private sphere) of women throughout history.

We are not incapable; we are choice-fatigued.

As we commemorate Begum Rokeya Day, Oborodh Bashini stands not as a relic of a bygone era but as a living blueprint for modern resistance. The stories she told are specific to a time, but the structures of silencing they represent are hauntingly familiar.

Rereading Begum Rokeya’s ‘Oborodh Bashini’

To understand the deep-seated relevance of this modern debate, we must embark on a journey into the heart of Sarat Chandra’s literature, where these battles first found voice.

The moment a meeting lulls, a conversation pauses, or a task feels a bit too long, my phone is in my hand. It lights up. And I’m gone.