RBR

The real joy of eating a mango is peeling off the skin and eating it right away, with delicious juice runs down your hand; it might be offensive to many, but a true Bengali would love to eat it that way. However, the civilised way to eat a mango would be to slice it into pieces and have the pulp with a fork. Now that the season is over and we have satiated most of those cravings, we can safely shift our attention to chilled sweet mango desserts for this scorching summer. Mangoes are high in calories; hence, everyone will ask you to keep your mango count in check. But, if you pair it with cool foods like yoghurt, you can have that extra one too. So, no reason to stop the mango binge.

As I have grown older, my mind is calmer but it’s a void now, empty of any voice.

Imagine a Doza Market or Bongo Bazar but for ceramics only. If you cross Uttara and drive towards Tongi and Gazipur, you will shortly reach a turn which takes you to Cheragali Ceramics Market tucked inside a dusty, debris piled corner. The narrow alley takes you to the treasure troves.

While mango has a cemented spot as the king of summer fruits, in its many varieties it also easily overshadows our other seasonal favourites like jaam or the java plum. The festivity around mangoes often makes for a lacklustre season for other bounties of summer. This dark purple, bordering on burgundy, lozenge sized fruit is fleshy, juicy with a hard seed and stains everything it touches a deep purple, including your mouth.

Monsoon is dreamy for some and exasperating for others, yet it is the best season in Bangladesh. The rivers are full and abundant with sweet water fish, nature is at its greenest best.

What I failed to realise is that the price hike is a constant thing, it is steadily increasing every month or rather every week it now seems, and never coming down actually.

There is a legitimate reason behind the adage — children not only mimic, but also develop their social mannerisms, ways of interaction and behavioural traits by observing and acquiring information from the adults around them. 

“If you are the bread earner, then I am the butter earner” — rounds with my husband always starts with this sentence. And indeed, it is true!

labbayka -llāhumma labbayk, labbayka lā šarīka laka labbayk,  inna -l- amda wa-n-ni mata laka wa-l-mulka lā šarīka lak

She has been under the limelight, on the ramps, and in the media as an Indian supermodel for some 30 odd years. Nayanika Chatterjee is the ideal person to talk to about the changes our society has gone through in regards to portraying women in mass media.

There are many issues that plague the development of women in Bangladesh. While the country is celebrating its 50th year of independence, we cannot for surely say that her womenfolk are fully liberated. And there are few pressing reasons to believe so.

One such graceful person is Bibi Russell, who is in awe with her land and draws inspiration from its people. Everyday villagers are her muse; people toiling in the fields and rubbing off their sweat with the mundane gamcha,

Rape is the easiest of all crimes and most probably the laxest too in our country.

It’s certainly an impressive trick! Small terracotta pots preheated in big tandoor like stoves; milk boiled at a high heat until it becomes all creamy and thick, and tea liquor brewed with sticks of cinnamon.

Twenty-twenty was a terrible year. We lost many of our loved ones, respected members of our society; there was a complete lockdown, the economy came to a standstill, many of us lost our jobs.

My father loved match-making and has to his name the success of more than ten successful matches, some of them going strong still, some celebrating their 50th year together! What made him the happiest, however, was those spontaneous weddings he planned.

Christmas of 2020 should follow the lead and be celebrated on a small scale. Blessing this year’s holiday season is a mild winter cold wave,

For me, placing coins in lucky bamboo or money plant pots and to think that money would grow from it, is more or less the right way out to earning and saving money; but alas, if only money grew on plants!

Once you become a parent, you unknowingly sign a contract for a lifetime of bondage. Imagine the things you had to do or are still doing in that role— that’s enough proof that you are indeed nothing but a puppet in your child’s hands.

People invariably get hurt by loved ones; whether they meant to do it or not remains another question to ponder on. I am talking about family elders, who should by now know how to conduct themselves in this time and era of all things politically correct.