RBR

I had nothing significant planned for last Friday, and was absent-mindedly saying yes to all sorts of plans my friends were making; completely forgetting an important wedding reception I had to attend that very day.

I would not go near Tetulia simply because I love the tropical weather in Dhaka. For the two months that winter lasts here in Bangladesh, this old city is cloaked in a mild chill. That is enough for Dhaka locals to bring out their monkey caps, mufflers, coats, and whatnot.

Hollowed cane chairs with pillowy cushions in white cotton covers surrounded a cane centre table with a glass top, on which, there would be a brass flower vase, posing with beautiful pink roses or gardenias from the garden -- this was how verandas looked years ago in Dhaka, or casual day rooms. Cane furniture was a timeless and vintage home décor style in Dhaka homes of the sixties.

When our Liberation War broke out, I was just shy of two. I have no recollection of what happened around me during that period.

Snacking on the streets of this city is nothing short of a culinary treat, and if you add the streets of Old Dhaka to the list, then it is an epicurean ball.

The new buzzword in town is ‘inclusive.’ It doesn’t refer only to gender inclusion; rather, from a more relevant and broader point of view, being inclusive makes us learn about disability inclusion, social and workplace inclusion, and parental inclusion, to name a few.

The flow of life is punctuated with ups and downs, and amid this unpredictability, we make friends for a lifetime.  We fall in love; we volunteer even to adopt love.

In a thicket of Mahagony, Segun, and Raintrees, the Jahangirnagar University (JU) campus is a rolling 697.56 acres of topographical beauty. A few kilometres from the main city on the Dhaka-Aricha highway, the JU campus can be your next weekend outing.

My grandmother, whom I fondly called Bubu, used to bring us batashas -- a sugar candy -- from her visits to her homeland in Pirojpur, Barishal. She would tell us it was a tabarak or shinni, which is a sweet gift or grace from her visits to Holy places.

November in the tropics has its own weather mix. From a storm brewing at the Bay to roaring gusty wind, to a scorching sunny day, dewy evening, and foggy dawn -- Dhaka’s weather in this month cannot be explained.

It is duck season, period. Even if winter is nowhere to be seen or felt, the local kitchen markets are quacking up a fat duck show to tease our cravings.

Pink is often considered the colour that defines femininity. Thus, in October, which marks Breast Cancer Awareness Month, a pink ribbon is often used to raise awareness about breast cancer. This practice has been in place since the 90s.

A charcoal black druid’s bowl with a rough and aged look, caught my attention while surfing social media. Initially, I thought it must be an antique piece of medieval pottery up for sale on some transcontinental site, but instead, I found it to be a local product from the brand Boho Bangladesh, promoting a sustainable natural lifestyle; it blew my mind.

What is the best thing about Sharat, you ask? For me, it is the change in the city’s breeze, in the soft, golden rays of the sun, and yes, the clear azure sky, with floating white fluffy clouds.

For the gardeners of urban Dhaka, it’s time to prepare for winter flowers. One might say it’s too early, but October is when you need to prune your roses and feed them with compost, besides preparing beds and soil for other winter blooms.

Dhaka is moody; and politically charged with high-strung residents, colours of the city change every day, some good things happen and some not so good. But it is always exciting.

Last Friday, I was strolling through Mohini Mohan Das Lane in the nostalgic neighbourhood of Farashganj in Old Dhaka. I love the old architecture of the area, and often go on such random excursions whenever I need to unwind.

Recently, taking a complete U-turn from the usual vegetable bazaars, I decided to check out the indigenous vegetable shops in town. I love to shop for leafy greens and fresh vegetables, and I can never resist the tag of an organic farmer’s market and jhum cultivation produce from the hills.

Our Dhanmondi office was a typical posh eighties two-storied house, with a manicured lawn and an annex building for the kitchen and other service quarters.

During the recent protests, the amount of people demanding to rebuild our country again were many. For good and bad, a lot has changed for Dhaka and its residents since then, and a new chapter in history was written. Just as the nature of any revolution, it was achieved through bloodshed and mindless atrocity.