In Dhaka University: the Convocation Speeches, a volume compiled with an introduction by Serajul Islam Choudhury in 1988, we read that DU was established by the British as a "splendid imperial compensation" for the Muslims of East Bengal (Choudhury, 26). They had wanted the current rulers of India to make up through it for the loss they felt they had suffered because of the reunion of Bengal in 1911.

I have described this disturbance as I saw it happen, an unedifying affair, confused and inconclusive, as a symptom rather than a causative episode of the growing friction between East and West Pakistan.

“About a hundred years ago, our ancestors used to live in the Porir Desh.”

Listen to the swish of the waves. Feel the breeze whisper caresses. See the mangroves stretch

What is the sadness that with

The Emperor wrote a lonely note. In exile, he wept for a grave in his Native land. Colonials

Now that I am old and have time,

It can often feel hopeless to be an activist seeking social change on an issue where most people seem opposed or at best indifferent to it. However, according to a new book by Professor Cass Sunstein,

Late nights calls are risky, reckless.

Home? Of course, I have a home! In fact I have two—one is a conventional brick-veneered house in a suburb of a Victorian country town in Australia.

The map I dream drawing every day, Bangladesh, is yours.

N. S. Vinodh’s newly published book A Forgotten Ambassador in Cairo is the outcome of a fortuitous event. In March 2018, the author was taken for an unscheduled visit to the tomb of an Indian Ambassador, in Cairo’s “City of the Dead.”

the postman plods his weary way eternal bag slung over shoulder comes up to me at the unearthly hour when evening azan brings dusk tumbling down like playful children somersaulting

He walked on an inaccessible path filled with thorns. Looking back he saw that a million of unblinking eyes were watching him. Boundless optimism reflected from those eyes and filled the traveler’s heart with an intoxicating pride. He asked with a gratified smile,”So tell me, what is the source of the unbound encouragement of your look?”

In December 1921, almost a hundred years ago, Kazi Nazrul Islam wrote what would be his most iconic poem: “Bidrohi.” The poem would transform him from the Soldier Poet to the Rebel Poet.

After savouring English and world literature for quite a while, I developed an interest in South Asian literature. This led me to study writers of this literary tradition.

It happened sometime in the winter of 1959. There was a ripple of commotion in the ‘kancha bazaar’ (kitchen market) in Dinajpur town. Someone gave a clarion call, “The gypsies are here. Allah save us! Secure your things.” It was as if a calamity had descended on the small town. Sajeed our domestic servant came running home from the bazaar and excitedly broke the news.

In the song-lyric numbered 230 in Gitabitan, Rabindranath Tagore’s comprehensive compilation of such verse, we find his delight at capturing the loveliness of the world outside his window in a song-lyric: “I’ve caught uncatchable loveliness in rhyme’s binds—/The loveliness of a distant night-bird/Singing at a late hour of the night/ Wings crimsoned by ashoka flowers of a departed spring/And a heart filled with the fragrance of fallen flowers” (my translation).

How often would I lose myself thinking I would bare my heart at your feet? I would fancy holding on to it tightly And confessing: “I love you passionately!” But I would think too: a heavenly angel— How could I show my love so openly then?

Clouds pile upon clouds And the world darkens Why keep me waiting by the door then, All, all alone?