Wake up, girl! That song wasn’t sung for you. You’re not Snow White

Strolling through a concrete jungle

That is a really interesting question, and before answering it, there is another question that needs to be considered: whose idea of success are we talking about? Because the truth is, that could be the determining factor in providing an answer to the question being posed.

After finishing college, I wanted to stay in the city a bit longer, to look for a job, read more books, hang out with my friends. But most importantly, I wanted to find out whether Daniel was ready to take the next step.

Did Shakespeare know he was “Shakespeare”? That is, even in his own day, did he know he was a cut above the ordinary when it came to writing dramatic poetry, that his language was, as a miner’s son would later put it, “so lovely! like the dyes from gas-tar”?

When my eyes dim

Life is a bundle of mingled yarn

Gabriella is a 40-year-old obstetrician-gynaecologist from Australia, a godsend for the violated women spat out by the nine-month

Life is a bundle of mingled yarn

The second day of the event included the cultural competition, where students from five different universities presented their interpretations of Romanticism and Gothicism through poetry

Back in 2005 in California, I was reading Edward Said’s Power, Politics, and Culture. This book is a collection of twenty-eight interviews

The eyes often grow heavy

The empty lane of the cemetery was lit by the ancient stars flickering above. The wind had leaves dancing on their branches. It was a

There is a buzz in the house this morning. Things are on the move. Nishat has taken full command, directing her troops to advance swiftly. I look at my watch and ask chotu to fetch my briefcase and the driver to get the car out.

MD Sharif Uddin's memoir Stranger to Myself: Diary of a Bangladeshi in Singapore was awarded best non-fiction at the Singapore Book Awards in 2018.

My mother told me to get a big Ilish maach for Pohela Baishakh. My face went pale. However much I claimed to love my mother, I had no wish to go to the maachher bazaar.

Creating the world and nirvana on their own,

Summer! My aunt in red, redundant words,

Baishakh is yet to show up,

Pohela Baishakh, in other words, got momentum as a kind of counter-discourse -- a vibrant collective and spontaneous response to the damming of the Bengali nationalist consciousness by successive Pakistani military governments working in cahoots with Muslim League politicians.