Sarah Anjum Bari

Seven thirty pm on Star World was when it began for me. I was young—too young to be watching Monica and Chandler kiss, to get

Just like the pools that drip from Abdallah's home into the longer al-Awafi alleys, these insightful, heartfelt snippets capture the lived experience of an Oman in transition over decades

A tiny red gate jostles for space among shops, apartments, and the flurry of traffic in Block F of Lalmatia in Dhaka. Like the name

When I think of Toni Morrison’s oeuvre, the word ‘geod’ comes to mind. A composite whole—each novel, each essay tightly knitted, contained by the solidity and confidence of its author’s direction of ideas. You think you know what to expect, given the ubiquity of its

A portion of my bookshelf looks “girlier” than the others. It’s stacked with hardbacks and paperbacks in various shades of pink, pale yellow, glittering gold, and some pops of red and purple. Anyone who walks in and looks at this section of the shelf will know immediately that it contains different variations of love stories, of stories about girls going on holiday and bonding with their girlfriends and reconnecting with themselves, usually having cast off a toxic job or relationship. Think of your Nora Roberts, your Cecelia Aherns and Jojo Moyeses and, if you like to step back in time, your Judith McNaughts.

The Goldfinch—the written version, Donna Tartt’s third literary triumph—opens upon a Christmas day in a hotel in Amsterdam. The “I” that speaks offers a brief recap of his murky dreams and departure from New York; what but he really (quickly) wants to get to is setting up the scene for us.

When we were kids, my younger cousin and I had a favourite game. Smaller and more agile, my cousin would hang off the side of the bed or a table, his squishy feet dangling and threatening to land painfully on the floor.

My copy of Zadie Smith’s Autograph Man is special for a number of reasons. Firstly, it’s the only one of my favourite author’s books that I haven’t read in its entirety.

Laal Kono Rong Noy (‘Red is Not a Colour’), curated by Mustafa Zaman, is displaying the works of artist Sanjoy Chakraborty from July 12 to 25 at Dwip Gallery, Lalmatia. Sanjoy Chakraborty studied History of Art at Rabindra Bharati University, India and has

Petrichor is the word for when rain hits dry soil, releasing a fragrance almost impossible to describe—the earth smells wetter somehow; richer, browner, greener. It was petrichor I smelled as I roamed, shuffled, and tiptoed my way through rain-drenched parts

It was sometime in winter last year that co-curator Sharmilie Rahman invited a group of artists—Abdus Salam, Abir Shome, Emran

Directed by Johan Renck and written by Craig Mazin, HBO’s five-part miniseries aired earlier this month takes us back to the worst

“No, not even water,” I explain to my friend, whose eyes grow wide at my description of fasting during Ramadan. We’re walking down Boulevard Raspail on the sixth arrondissement of Paris, past rows of people sitting out on café tables, past a noodle shop, a Pizzeria, a sandwicherie, and a Lebanese restaurant. It’s a hot summer afternoon. The air smells of cheese and caffeine, and I still have eight hours to go before I can eat or drink anything.

To call it ‘climate fiction’ would barely scratch the surface of what it really is. Richard Powers’ The Overstory—winner of this year’s

As far as grand finales go, Avengers: Endgame—the curtain call on this batch of the Marvel cinematic saga—gets a lot of things right.

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. If you look for perfection, you’ll never be content.”

The book opens to a dark, ominous scene. An armed man in a soldier's uniform chases a woman through an open field, her saree unfoiling, smoke billowing from hedges and houses in the horizon.

If you’re thinking about the title of this article, let me clarify: I’ve always believed the opposite.

Think of some of the words we use most often in our daily lives in Bengali. The word for 'pen'—kolom; the word for 'sky'—asmaan; 'river'—doria; 'land'—jomeen.

In a solo exhibition “Disappearing Roots”, Samsul Alam Helal explores the impact of gentrification in the Rangamati hill tracts.