Creative nonfiction / Growing up with a new nation: The Dhaka we once knew

Long, long ago, when the world was younger, wiser, softer, when the animals were braver and the people were gentler, when art lived and music sailed, and the skies were a true, honest blue, there lived a man who loved a woman, and they lived in a little house they loved very much. How they met o

One of the memoir’s most striking elements is Westover’s refusal to paint her family in simple black and white

In a recent conversation I had with a well-regarded photographer about his longitudinal study on a subject, he talked about Sufism and the structure of the raagas in classical music where a single refrain being repeated was actually an inward search for deeper meaning.

"You have done an excellent job. People who know English tell me that your translations are better than the originals," said the late Sunil Gangopadhyay to Aruna Chakravarti on her translation of his writings.

The memoir situates Roy’s personal story alongside her public life as an outspoken critic of state power, globalisation, and inequality.

Some poets arrive like rain on parched soil—needing no defense, only recognition. Al Mahmud (1936–2019) was one of them. And yet, in the usual crookedness of history, we have found ourselves having to defend what should already have been canonised. There was a time—not long ago—when his name uns

Ami chiratare dur-e chole jabo.(I will go far away forever).I’ll go far away forever—.yet I won’t let myself be obliviated..I’ll turn air to knot your hair.when the bun gets loose..Immersed in your tune.when the sky dozes, wind weeps,.with teary ey

I was born too late for CBGB’s, too offline for MySpace and too far away from dive bars. I came to all of it two entire decades late so The Strokes wasn’t exactly the soundtrack to my reckless twenties but a band I happened to stumble into during a mid-pandemic spiral.

Being a musician who grew up singing and listening to Kazi Nazrul Islam’s songs, I was quite familiar with his writing, particularly his diction, figures of speech, and sundry themes.

Similar to how the play starts, it also ends with the colourful, subtle image of the butterflies flying spontaneously, creating a strong symbolism encapsulating Paul's dream of freedom, nature, and his ambition of becoming a writer

Trigger warning: self harm, sexual and physical abuse “For a hundred million, Omar, are you ready?” said the host, with his everlasting grin.

“What will come out of all this?” The day starts with the devil flying overhead,

This cracked, restless earth beneath our feet— granules of memory grinding,

Bengal was partitioned twice. First in 1905 when the heightened protest against this reunited Bengal in 1911.

Don’t mistake A Death in Shonagachhi for a murder mystery, or you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment. Some moments will remain unexplained, threads will refuse to tie neatly, and certain ends will stay frayed. Strictly speaking, Rijula Das’s explosive debut can be classified as literary noir. More poetically, it is a soul-baring depiction of a community built in the most unexpected of places—a testament to resilience in the face of crushing blows, and a promise that love can overcome the agony of circumstances beyond one’s control.

In Thorns in My Quilt, Mohua Chinappa offers readers a searingly honest and emotionally resonant series of letters addressed to her late father. But before these letters unfold, we are led into a history that anchors the personal in the political—a story of displacement, privilege, and loss that stretches from Dhaka to Shillong.

Elif Shafak has adroitly balanced the story between Peri’s suffering as a woman and religion’s role in mending our relationships and lives.

The automated blinds of the penthouse in Gulshan, an upscale area, rise with a soft hum, revealing a picture-perfect Dhaka morning.

Children pulled from rubble in Gaza, dust-white faces against red bricks—

Ahmed shared his journey with Netra News and his undercover work for them shedding light on the countless enforced disappearances that took place in the country during Hasina’s regime.