Nilima Jahan

Like other remote villages in Bangladesh, in Barapushia, a small village in Gazipur, having your period is something to be kept a secret.

For 20-year-old housewife Ripa, it was a usual weekend morning. Her one-year-old daughter Ayesha had woken her up at around 7 am and was repeatedly pointing to the window, wanting to go outside.

For Manik Chandra Saha, work always came first. It's not as though he never spent any time with his family, but there were few things that got the veteran journalist more excited than the possibility of a scoop. Unfortunately, that pursuit paved the way for his death.

In a world of expensive rentals and shared housing, where bachelors are often treated as troublemakers by landlords, the Sarder Colony of south Kamlapur has become a sanctuary for such people.

The news of losing his waiter gig struck 35-year-old Nesar Ali like a bolt. Nesar, who had never taken a day off in his four years at the restaurant, took seven days' leave from his owner for his sister's wedding back in the village.

Fifty-four-year-old Md Belal Hossain works at a small bakery in Ibrahimpur, Mirpur. He has learnt only one trade in his life—making bread, biscuits, cakes, and confectionery items on the dirty floors of grim bakeries.

“When my husband stopped talking to me, all the responsibility of my treatment fell on my elderly father, who is a farmer. He had to sell off our land, three cows and trees to fund my treatment”

When you think of starting a business in Bangladesh, you almost immediately think of exploring your options in the garments sector. You might even take the risk of venturing into the food business or any other 'tested and tried' sector that is bound to give an instant reward.

Rahima Khatun tries to cross the busy Mirpur 10 circle, with her four-year-old daughter in her arms. She waits for a while and when the traffic slows down, she runs across the road.

School and college student protesters have returned to the classroom already but their hearts remain on the streets. Meanwhile, allegations have arisen that some institutions are penalising students for their participation in the student movement that sprung up spontaneously for safer roads.

18-year-old Faisal Mahmud, a student of class XII, was injured when a truck ran over him near Shanir Akhra on August 1, while he and his friends were checking the licences of vehicles on that road.

Remember the time in school when you were asked what you wanted to become once you grew up? And remember how everyone talked about either becoming a doctor or an engineer?

It was with a lot of pomp and flair that the Dhaka Metropolitan Police launched the official “999” helpline last December; but half a year down the line, data shows that only one percent of the calls could be truly served.

There was a time when you only had to worry about receiving spam in your e-mail inbox. Years on, though, that role seems to have been taken over by the messages folder on your phone.

How much does a life cost? For 55-year-old Selim Bepari, who used to work as a driver at a private firm till the evening of June 19, it was equal to the amount he earned in a month—Tk 22,000.

Newly-wed Munia spent this Eid cooking for, and serving, her in-laws, while pining for her parental home and a glimpse of her parents. When the 28-year-old had approached her husband about visiting her parents, he had simply dismissed the idea. Her first Eid after marriage was thus marked by a huge fight with her husband who chose to prioritise his family and some ill-formed notions of custom over the happiness of his wife and his in-laws.

Just about 50 kilometres north of Dhaka lies the wooded surrounds of Gazipur, a district that has become increasingly popular these days because of its luxurious resorts that offer the guests a chance to get lost in nature's serenity and leave behind the big-city stress.

For Mirpur residents, hardship while commuting has become an everyday affair; by now, even the media is probably tired of repeatedly covering the same news about the area.

“Apa, please come in,” a young man gesturing to his small print and copy shop in Nilkhet's Bakushah market. “What do you need—term paper, project report, master's thesis, internship report, research monograph? Just name it,” he asks swiftly.

When she was a child, every time Shobita was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, she would reply: “a lawyer”. And, valuing her passion, Shobita's father—a primary school teacher—left no stone unturned to fulfil her dreams. She graduated from a private university in 2015; unfortunately, however, she soon found there was more to becoming a lawyer than completing her studies.