Creative nonfiction / Growing up with a new nation: The Dhaka we once knew

In an abyss devoid of rules,

Leaders big and small set no good

We emerged victorious in a burning city of chaos,

Majid kept sniffing the air as he walked. He slowed down when he heard someone’s footsteps behind him.

The title of the story could have been “Tiger,” just “Tiger,” as, for a few days in 1971, a tiger had been the cause of a massive terror to us.

I was so excited when my first story – “My American Dream”–appeared in The Daily Star back in 2007 that I quickly emailed the web link to all my friends. And they promptly responded with “What is Tohon?” as if the name was more important than the story itself.

“What’s in a name?” asked Shakespeare. We often say that too as if names do not matter. Yet how else can we introduce ourselves if we do not have names?

I hate my name, particularly my nick name: Shuman. It’s so common that some of my classmates at Jahangirnagar University used to call me “common.”

Furniture dies. Empty now,

When it comes to their names, most people in Bangladesh may find themselves in a convoluted situation.

If people in Bangladesh remember Kaifi Azmi (1919-2002) now, it is either because of the famous songs he wrote for popular Hindu films such as Kagaz Ke Phool (1959), Pakeezah (1972) and Aarth (1982), or because he is the father of the celebrated actress-activist and member of the Indian Rajya Sabha, Shabana Azmi.

I tried to open my eyes,

The DSC Prize celebrating the rich and varied world literature in South Asia 2019 had announced its longlist on September 26, 2019 evening at the Oxford Bookstore in New Delhi.

There was once a breeze filled heart

As the moon appeared, high tides and ebbs kept changing their courses, and a little chill in the air set the mood- Bhikhu lost whatever was left of his self-restraint. Repulsion was replaced by a heat of desire and the next morning he was there to see her.

I am now seventy, yet I remember vividly an incident from my childhood that left a deep impression on my soul.

I am mixed-up — cannot help

Bhikhu apprehended that Pehlad might disclose his name to take revenge. Of course, he would not think twice of the consequences with his house being set on fire and all.

Ahh! Yours truly was positively ecstatic as he rapidly flipped through the two hundred-odd pages of Curtain Call: English Language Plays in Dhaka 1950-1970, written by the brother-sister duo of Raza Ali and Niaz Zaman.

The 2nd Dhaka Translation Fest (DTF) 2019 was held at Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy, Dhaka on Friday 25 October, 2019.