In the psyche and schema of the average transnational Bangladeshi, rape is visible and legitimate only when it takes spectacular forms—violent, brutal, deadly.
In west Texas, oil froths luxurious from hard ground while across Bangladesh, bayoneted women stain pond water blossom.
Rediscovering ‘Ami Birangona Bolchi’ by Neelima Ibrahim.
Biva Rani, 60, lives in her brother's tin-shed house in Upendranath Mandal near Torki Bandar of Barisal's Gournadi upazila. She works odd jobs, as a tailor, a weaver, a midwife sometimes, in order to look after herself and her disabled son Sagor.
