There is a Dhaka most people never meet.

In the heart of Dhaka, amid the city’s relentless pace, a silent grave has reclaimed its dignity.

An initiative that I am particularly passionate about is TishCAN, a humble support group dedicated to raising funds for breast cancer patients who are unable to solicit donations or raise funds on their own.

It was my friend’s birthday, and I forgot to wish him. As penance, I treated him to a hilsa dinner.

My first ride in a Murir Tin bus was when I visited my grandfather in Bheramara, Kushtia, in the late seventies.

Dhaka never says no -- it welcomes everyone who arrives! The city may not hand you breathing space, but it will always carve out a corner for you -- sometimes generous, sometimes barely enough to call a coffin.

What has changed is that conversations can now happen out into the open

Ice cream is a sinful indulgence for anyone... I have a confession to make about this decadent, intense pleasure. I am addicted to ice cream bars and cones. My craving feels almost excessive

In the capital’s Purana Paltan bus stop area, near Paltan Jame Mashjid, there is a wholesale and retail lighting market that will most certainly catch your eye, making you wonder what corner of your home could use such elegant artwork.

There was a time Dhaka only sprawled horizontally, stubbornly, like a city allergic to the sky. But then, when the land grew scarce, Dhaka simply looked up and thought -- why not the sky? So now, it climbs.

The Friday menu, whether for breakfast or lunch, has always been a lavish affair for the people of Dhaka.

Step out onto any rooftop in Dhaka and take a slow spin. You’ll notice that almost every building in this urban jungle has one thing in common: balconies or verandas, whatever you want to call them.

Have we ever stopped to wonder when the ATM machines refill themselves? Or who stocks the shelves of our favourite stores before we walk in the morning?

Recently, I drove to Subal Das Lane in Lalbagh to try the latest breakfast craze that has captivated Dhaka in the metaverse: Siddiqui bhai’s Nihari.

Walk down the lanes of Old Dhaka today and it is hard to imagine that the city once revolved around a single building -- Dhaka Fort. Back in 1610, when Islam Khan, the Mughal subahdar of Bengal, shifted his capital here, the fort was the nerve centre of Mughal power.

As a painter, he was larger than life. Baseer entered art school not out of a passion for the creative field, but he was on a mission, a role he undertook as a sign of political allegiance to the leftist movement.

Before the sun rises over Dhaka’s Korail slum, many mothers set out early for a long day of work, carrying the unspoken worry of who will care for their children while they are away.

There are thousands of people in Dhaka, each living a different life. But a few things are constant for all. Apart from the unavoidable traffic and the signal at Bijoy Sarani, their love-hate relationship with rain unites most of them.

Recent tragedies in Bangladesh have brought to our attention the urgency to recognise the need for mental trauma healing.

Long before Dhaka became a noisy sprawl of rickshaws, traffic, and concrete, it was a quieter, more graceful place. One posing for a German man with a camera and a keen eye for elegance.