“He was jumping around the street, glowing -- he’d just personalised his own Messi jersey. I couldn’t resist asking for a picture.

The 10th of Muharram, the first month of the Islamic calendar, marks Ashura -- a day layered with sacred memory, grief, and devotion.

It was one of those easy evenings: my friend and I sprawled on the bed, gossiping in that unhurried way only comfort allows.

Currently in Dhaka’s shopping scene, the trending word is pre‑loved -- a positive, stylish term for second‑hand, used, or vintage clothing. You could call it the polished cousin of the hand‑me‑downs we grew up with.

The Buriganga holds unimaginable history, many stories, and so much more. It was never calm from the very beginning.

For 22 years, Galleri Kaya has remained a familiar and influential presence in Bangladesh’s art community. What began as a gallery has gradually evolved into something larger:

If you try to make sense of Dhaka traffic using only logic and Google Maps, you will very quickly realise that the city has no particular interest in cooperating with either of them.

Our city dates back to pre-Mughal times; and Narinda, with this mosque, is a testament to that.

My story today is of Jyaishtha, the second month of the Bangla calendar, sweetly tucked between May and June, and lovingly nicknamed mishti mash -- the sweet month. It is a season not just of fruit, but of affection, abundance, and the kind of cordiality that defines Bengali summer.

I know it is the era of a cashless economy, and in Dhaka, like elsewhere, plastic money and electronic transfers underpin and replace physical cash.

Now that the Eid holidays are over and everyday routines -- schools, offices, and the familiar rhythm -- have begun, we are almost reluctantly rescheduling our lazy holiday hours.

Dhaka has two sides. New Dhaka is easy to spot with its branded cafés, high‑rise malls, glass towers, food courts, and co‑working spaces -- a city that looks like it is racing forward.

It’s been more than a decade since I have moved in Dhaka. Since then, I have spent only a few days away from Dhaka, and it has become such that I feel more comfortable at Dhaka than anywhere else. Which is ironic because there is so much about this city that irks me.

Every festival in Dhaka feels vibrant and full of life. The city embraces every celebration with warmth and enthusiasm. But Eid is different. It is a festival that calls people to be with their families, friends, and loved ones.

With Eid right around the corner, the rush of homebound people has begun. Regardless of your choice of transport, you will encounter a number of “characters” on your journey, and it’s not negotiable.

The word "Farash" means French and "ganj" means market, and hence, the name of the locality stands as a testimony of the French people and their businesses in Dhaka during the olden times.

Last Friday I realised something maddening: our once‑famous Bangalee addas -- those spirited gatherings that felt like cultural performances, a way of living -- now stand fractured and quiet.

Have you ever realised that we are slowly forgetting the essence of Dhaka, especially those regular things we once used to start our day with?

There are certain places in Dhaka that now exist less as actual locations and more as long, emotionally charged stories older generations refuse to stop telling. Aziz Super Market is one of them.

A curious detail regarding all this involves one tikiya-maker.