A part of my soul is dead, and the other half is dying a slow death. Amid such painful existence, how do I breathe every day and carry on with my duties each day? It’s a question I ask myself continuously.

Monsoon is the season of beauty in Bangladesh. Everything around you is fresh, rain soaked, and green; even the polluted Dhaka air feels fresh. Our streets, our cityscape, rooftop gardens, the plants in the balconies — all beaming at their brightest.

There is something about tea that calms me down. And tea parties are my all-time favourite invites; not only dressing up for the elaborate

There is no such thing called too much sunshine, we realise that now, my mom and I, and how important and necessary that routine was for me as a baby. And I understand that the colour of the skin never really mattered, though my mother begs to differ.

I named my herb patch Scarborough Fair, not because I have parsley, rosemary and thyme, but amusingly every time my husband sees me working on the herb bed, he sings this song. And somehow, I grew fond of the lyrics.

There are times when I am overworked or stressed, and for a relief, I picture myself on the sandy beach of Teknaf, waves crashing in and out, tickling my feet, or walking along the abandoned rail line in Lawachara National Park;

What I really love about my kitchen is the bright and colourful ceramic and porcelain crockery against the backdrop of my white walls.

Normality as we knew it might never come back, and it would only be wise to accept this new normal and act accordingly.

The story of the humble jilapi starts with the Turkic invaders, even before the Mughals took over the subcontinent. A flour based twirled dessert, the jilapi is dunked in sugary syrup and devoured by the tens, and is the most sought-after sweets during iftar.

Similarly, watermelon with mildly salty feta cheese sprinkled with Vietnamese basil is a match made in heaven. Caesar salad, coleslaw, shrimp cocktail, crunchy vegetables wraps in rice paper rolls are all dainty comforting snacks for summer iftars.

Attending conferences, seminars, talks are always a big deal for most of us; we must not only be at our intellectual best, but also at our fashionable finest. After all, first impressions are the lasting ones, they say.

For the last few weeks, I have been thinking about certain things. Stuff that we tend to do as a society; some good, some not so good. Things that we say without judging its consequences on others — blatant lies, exorbitant showing-off, some know-it-all like comments.

Getting your chores and errands done virtually is already something quite new for me, but if you had told me that I could even get my backache fixed virtually,

This Pahela Baishakh’s weather forecast is cloudy with a light summer breeze whooshing past you; the perfect weather to be outdoors all day from the crack of dawn till the late hours of the night.

In my imagination, I see myself in a beautiful home showered by the golden afternoon sunlight, the slant rays flirting with my plush

My first Bond movie was Thunderball at Madhumita Cinema Hall sometime in the late seventies. For lack of a baby sitter I tagged along on my parents’ movie date, thereby spoiling Sean Connery’s awesome action moments as James Bond for them.

We are often under the illusion that eating healthy is a tedious process, but that could not be further from the truth.

There is something comforting about greens; large trees, small shrubs and bushes, potted plants, indoor plants, even weeds.

Majestic all the way, the sail is a sight to behold, and you can feel the wind propelling you onwards.

I love my city! Yes, this very tattered, tainted, and terrifying (and just about every other bad adjective my dictionary can conjure up) city has a profound pull on me.