One year goes by in the blink of an eye But the memories remain as livid as ever.

Any pandemic is crushing. COVID-19 is no exception. It strains cognition and emotion. It tanks economies. It disrupts communication. It alters psychology. It breeds panic and paranoia.

Look! Look outside Behold the state of the world

Symbols divide us; symbols unite us.

Amid laughter, jokes and cheers, I hear Mr. Jefferson’s intellectual sneer. In “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” you bet! I put my money in the safety of my pocket.

[for Samuel on his 15th birthday]

I can never use the past tense verbs in your case

In the space of just a few months, Bangladesh has become a land of vanishing greatness.

Dear friend, are you sure you want to listen to this? I am a person with a harsh exterior and a soft heart. When you insist that I have to tell you my story, I feel very emotional and stressed out.

Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976)—one of the greatest Bengali poets—has by now been fully assimilated into the literary canon and even into public discourse in Bangladesh.

The Other Side of the Divide by Sameer Arshad Khatlani journeys through the precarious landscape of people who live on both sides of the divide — the divide caused by the line drawn by Radcliffe in 1947 to split the subcontinent into Pakistan and India. The angst, the wounds linger on through even pandemics like COVID 19.

It is I, a “rajpath” as they say. I had to suffer the same fate as Ahalya who was cursed into becoming the unfeeling being that she was.

Rabindranath Tagore’s (1861-1941) childhood and adolescent memories of stage performance involve both Jatra and theatre.

Let me begin my speech in this birthday webinar organized by the High Commission of India in Dhaka to commemorate Rabindranath Tagore’s 159th birthday by referring to his last public address, Sabhyater Sankat or Crisis in Civilization.

In 1980 while I was pursuing PhD in the U.S.A. I stumbled into the world of philosophy. Beyond my engineering studies, I devoted myself to my new-found passion. Since that time, I have been maintaining a diary. The following episodes are based on selected journal entries.

There were six of us, bosom buddies who had studied together in the same school and college, friends for years—“good” boys. And there were the same number of them, if not more, from the same Dhaka school and college—“nice” girls.

The man walks Bending on his cane, picking

Ha, there you go, this is how you suffer:

If only I had stopped her from drinking!

I always knew that life is unpredictable. But between February and April this year, I started to discover what it truly means to live an unpredictable life.