When a dear friend recommended The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, it took me one page to grow up. 

The book captures all the enjoyable experiences of travelling, and the food they ate, and provides descriptions of France's seas.

Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook

In some ways, Sharatchandra places the blame for Devdas's ensuing sorrow on his lack of courage, made all the more noticeable in comparison to Parbati's courage in breaking social norms despite the dire consequences it could have for her.

In addition to the activities, the event offered an array of distinctive stalls for festival goers, featuring sustainable and healthy products rooted in Bangladesh.

Last week, Daily Star Books interviewed Bangladeshi-Canadian writer Arif Anwar, author of The Storm (2018), and American novelist Julia Phillips, author of Disappearing Earth (2019).

Mayurpankhi’s books have the calibre to engage readers of all ages. This book is not an exception either.

On the heart of a place where heather blossoms, Dreams of scattered bodies and burnt heath Against the walls where children live

Pressed between pages Of a heavy book, a rose-– Neither flourishes nor wilts.

500 years ago, Edmund Spenser wrote a poem to celebrate a wedding taking place beside the River Thames. Each stanza ends with the refrain: “Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song”.

Each submission, whether poem or prose, was limited to 250 words, and the first team to complete all the prompts would be crowned the winning house.

Through visualising the beautiful island nation of the Maldives and the unique environmental features of Bangladesh, the book hopes to foster an appreciation for our shared natural heritage and raise climate awareness.

The fascination with October’s magic and mystery hasn’t subdued over the centuries. And what can be more magical than falling in love in October?

An uncomfortable stillness emanated in the air around Rajpath road. I stood there with my suitcase in my hand, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge. Glancing left then right, I crossed the road and entered the premises of Hotel Kaalipara.

It was another early sunset on a rainy day in Dhaka. Alamin was walking with a polythene bag of groceries back to his small, rented apartment.

Spacious, shiny, new roads are built in my city to rent them for raw-markets

I look in the mirror, and the tides start turning,

You Are a Rickshawallah

Wilson hasn’t written a retelling from the perspectives of the subjugated but has rather been true to the original, although she doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the sheer misogyny of the Homeric period.

A question that comes to mind is why does a book even need a playlist? There are two solid answers.