Syed Ismail Hossain Siraji (1880–1931) is one of the pioneers of the Muslim Renaissance in the subcontinent. He was born in an illustrious Muslim family at Sirajganj town in the then Pabna district in 1880 and also died in the same place in 1931.

It had been raining lightly since morning. During the monsoon, the North-Eastern Bengal Haor wetland areas would go under deep water, the water remaining for half of the year. Boats would become the prime mode of transportation.

It was a common story. A campus that was under the tyrannical rule of a leading political party. Students kneeling down to conformity. A few rebellious ones that refused to obey.

Professor Imtiaz H. Habib was easily recognizable in a crowd even if his back was turned towards you. He was a tall, well dressed man

John Drew, mourning the untimely death of poet Riad Nourallah (1949-2018), comments: Riad's writing and teaching draw on the

Whenever I think of Arundhati Roy, I am reminded of afternoons on the rooftop with soothing breeze and neighbourhood pigeons circling the sky.

On a second thought, the door didn't start the whole mess. Rather it can be labeled as a witness, a milestone perhaps. At least that's what Aru thought as she dipped the paint brush in a bucket full of thick, dark paint.

My introduction to war lore was an intimate one, removed from any political agenda—they were stories of fear, simplicity, and sheer resilience in the face of ultimate crisis.

Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature in 2001, Sir Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul (knighted in 1990) died on August 11, 2018 at the

The silky skinned beauty went galloping through the prairie

Sharif and his wife Ankhi were at the chamber of a reputed Sydney oncologist to discuss the MRI results of Sharif's suspected colon. On the wall hung a board which displayed a large number of his colon's images taken at different angles and perspectives. Sharif tried to get the underlying message emanating from the images. Each image had a few grey or dark spots which looked ominous to him.

I was staring intently at the girl sitting in half profile in front and to the right of me. The girl was beautiful all right, but that is not

Aahana took short agitated steps around the back courtyard of her house. She paused for a few seconds, to clear her head which was spinning, either because of the circles she was taking around the yard or because of the information her husband had given her the that morning.

Sometimes when there is no rational explanation behind certain happenings, we call them supernatural. There might actually be some justification, but they elude our sense of logic.

When my son turned into a marriageable age, all our friends, relatives and acquaintances started asking the inevitable questions, “When will he get married?”

Darkness thickens on the sky once more, Light's enigmatic sister— this darkness.

FOUR POEMS

I hope that you are well in London town — and that you are missing me! Let me say at the outset that this message comes to you

Her bedroom door burst open. She was silently crying on the bed when her mother stood in the doorway of her room. She didn't dare to look at her mother.

It seemed as though my little sister had climbed the five and a half stories from out of the dark recesses of the road where they were digging in the light of lanterns.