The market for automobiles in Bangladesh, especially the four-wheeler segment, is as small as it is diverse. With brand new car dealerships seeing about 80-90 units go out the doors on the popular end every year and lesser brands selling about 20-30 if they are lucky,

“The driver is not here. Who will take the children to school?” asked Tahmina’s husband. “I will drive them today,” she says, surprising the whole family with the news that she has been secretly learning how to drive.

Deciding to buy a car is one of the first steps to making your commute easier. With an increasing number of models to choose from, it becomes quite a challenge to pick the right one. How do you know which car is the best for you? Here are a few tips to keep in mind when buying a car, whether reconditioned or brand new.

The automobile industry in Bangladesh, as a whole, is growing. We have an estimated annual demand of 30,000 units for the passenger vehicles among which brand new vehicles are contributing 5,000 units.

You have bought your brand new car and you cannot stop smiling. Here are a few things you need to watch out for so you can keep smiling years down the line.

The Indo-Pacific region is one of the most dynamic regions of the world. It is a region, which is situated at the strategic crossroads,

I am Ranire, the serpent woman who lives in the rubbles of Al-Hammar Palace. Yes, you heard right—the accursed and legendary half woman and half snake that wanders in the desert land of Ukh-Tarar.

“CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER”—the instruction pops up on the brand new 32-inch curved monitor’s screen. “Hmm… Which one? Which one should I select?” Genghis Khan murmurs.

I, an itching palm? —William Shakespeare

Krishnakali I call her Krishnokoli, my dark blossom,

It’s that time of the year again, when we offer an array of literary items -- short fiction, non-fiction and poetry.

If I die, leave the balcony open.

Saturday morning: on the brick plaza at the corner of Fourth and Catheri

Table of Contents

I am sure it was sometime in 1965 that a classmate at St. Gregory’s, Muhammad Ali Rumee, piqued my curiosity by describing a new movement in letters launched by some friends of his elder brother.

In a soggy London street he stood, shaking his dreadlocks like wind-struck branches of a willow and moving his weathered bow on the shiny strings of his broken violin.

This is a story without a beginning or an end. The story does not even relate to events that one can see. And yet, in some sense, there is a beginning and there is an end.

It’s late June and it’s hot. It’s nine in the morning and it’s hot. It’s so hot in Dhaka that after a while feelings turn somewhat numbed, vision blurred. And taking advantage of the overcrowded vehicle, when a guy pinches Shila Chakma’s buttock after a futile attempt to grope her breast, she wants to scream: Stop it, you pervert.

We could have never imagined that we would get Topu back. And yet he has returned and is amidst us. It is mind-boggling – the person whom we had seen for the last time at the High Court intersection,

There the tree tom-tomed its existential glory on the bank of the small river at a distance from the village.