RBR

Last Friday I realised something maddening: our once‑famous Bangalee addas -- those spirited gatherings that felt like cultural performances, a way of living -- now stand fractured and quiet.

My grandmother-in-law watched the cult Bangla cinema Shujan Shukhi eight times in the halls of Narayanganj, back when she lived in a wooden two-storied bungalow -- the downstairs serving as her husband’s gaddi, his office and business hub.

I found myself back on Bailey Road with my friends last weekend, after what felt like ages. Joining us was Anisul Haque, a friend’s better half and the celebrated writer who makes pop culture look effortlessly stylish.

A tree toppled during the recent nor’wester is being cleared away from Ramna Park.***

Like the song “Summer Nights” from the ’80s blockbuster “Grease”, I keep humming my own parody these days: Summer lovin’, had me a headache.

For Lubna Marium, acclaimed dancer and choreographer, reviving her grandmother Rahat Ara Begum’s literary legacy has been a pilgrimage.

Maleka Khala—a soft yet steadfast woman to whom Bangladesh remains indebted.

Now that the hullabaloo of Pahela Baishakh is over, the festival colours have yet to fade.

In 1930s colonial Dhaka, bed tea was the first act of waking life.

Biju, Boisu, Sangrai, Bihu, Shangkran, and Bishu are different versions of a festival celebrating the New Year and the arrival of spring in the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT). Each indigenous community has its own name for it in their dialect, and together they are often grouped under the umbrella term Boisabi.

My first encounter with the word “aam tel’” wasn’t in my own kitchen, but through the West Bengal series “Indubala’s Bhaater Hotel”.

By sheer stroke of chance, I stepped into the exhibition space of Galleri Kaya in Uttara and managed to take a quick look at the group art exhibition titled “CROSSROAD … not a project”.

In moments of dreamy, wistful escape, I wish I could live a stranger’s life in a forgotten world, or even stand rooted like an ancient tree, radiating a quiet, zen-like energy to all who come near.

Eid season magnifies this obsession: fairs, stalls, and even online marketplaces become my playground

A rickshaw ride in the evening is one of my favourite ways to unwind. Although pedalling through the crowded residential lanes of Dhaka is anything but relaxing, I love it nonetheless.

When locally grown strawberries first hit the Dhaka market, still in their trial runs, the fruits were as sour as sour could be. But trust us, Dhaka vendors, we’ve created a desi-styled street snack, like a bhorta mix, to go with it.

Why the metro rail is now Dhaka’s best way to travel

Why is Dhaka obsessed with trade fairs, export fairs or duty-free shopping? I am yet to find an answer to our everlasting euphoria for these fairs.

Chandni Chowk and Gausia: The heart of shopping in the city

Explore craft stores in the city for perfect holiday presents