“Our lives, our stories, flowed into one another's, were no longer our own, individual, discrete.” – Salman Rushdie, Shalimar the Clown

If you're a Bengali or an art house film buff of any nationality, you've most likely heard of Satyajit Ray, one of India's finest filmmakers, whose debut

For three impressive London women born in Bangladesh there were cheering results in the UK election.

Farah saw the tree as soon as she entered the new apartment. Her parents had come to Dhaka after the Partition of India in 1947.

“All that is valuable in human society depends upon the opportunity for development accorded the individual.” (Albert Einstein)

As her whole universe

Kamal Chowdhury enjoys a special place in contemporary Bengali poetry.

She is a black beauty; I mean black.

Driven by lust and greed,

While I thought deeply of the spring, the winter came

In today's SLR, readers are treated to an up-close and personal look at renowned, award-winning poet Kamal Chowdhury.

Ajanta has not seen her mother in ten years. During her last visit to Dhaka, Amma had suggested that Ajanta should consider getting married again.

After wrapping up my second novel, I realized something; a truth of absolute importance -- that it takes more or less two years to

"Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"

Brains melting. Tempers flaring. Fresh fruits diced and juiced. The dread of term exams. The anticipation of a new budget. Welcoming

You have gifted me rainy day's First Kadam flower, O my beloved I offer you songs of monsoon rain.

A convergence of religions through Dharma, not swords. Friendship as an expression of political resistance.

I am up early today. It's a brilliant morning and I can hear the chirping of new birds.

While I'm editing my novel, I find it helpful to read something entirely unrelated. Young Romantics by Daisy Hay, subtitled The Shelleys, Byron and other tangled lives (Bloomsbury 2011), tells the story of a group of radical English writers over a period of a dozen years in the early nineteenth century.

The wind builds up its frenzy. The clouds rob my sky.