Asma Khan is an advocate for women’s empowerment through food -- honest, eloquent, and unapologetically frank.
There was a time when Dhaka’s narrow lanes knew us better than we knew ourselves. Long before the flyovers sliced the sky and long before every passer-by walked around wrapped in earbuds like private citizens of their own worlds, these alleys held entire universes.
The Haripur Zamindar Bari in Brahmanbaria’s Nasirnagar upazila stands in quiet resignation, its ageing walls holding the weight of a world long gone.
As the full moon of Agrahayan rises, the Manipuri community in greater Sylhet prepares to celebrate its most cherished festival -- Maharas Leela, or Ras Utsab.
Inside the Jamuna Bridge Regional Museum in Tangail's Bhuapur, a child was staring at a stuffed owl, mesmerised, as he wondered if it was a real bird.
“Time is money” -- this capitalist anthem has forced us, the modern world citizens, to optimise and monetise every second of our waking hours. We compute our accomplishments quantitatively, without regard for the quality of the task done.
Despite centuries of life on the water, the Mantas remain invisible in official records.
Tucked away on the banks of the Jamuna in Pabna’s Bera upazila, the remote village of Haturia holds on to a remarkable past.
From the beaches of Cox’s Bazar and Kuakata to the hill slopes of Sajek Valley and the wetlands of Sylhet, Bangladesh’s major tourist destinations are expanding without proper planning or regulation..Makeshift shops, unauthorised hotels, risky embankments, and unregulated boating threaten
Under the autumn sky, sunlight and clouds play hide-and-seek as Kashful sway gently in the breeze.
When 23-year-old Jannatul Nayeem boarded a flight from Dhaka to Kunming, he carried more than a suitcase. Packed alongside his clothes was the weight of a stubborn spinal disc problem -- and months of frustration over elusive diagnoses and dead ends.
Cradled in the rolling, green embrace of Khagrachhari’s Panchhari, the small villages feel like a place where time slows down to match the rhythm of nature.
During the monsoon, Jhalakathi transforms into a floating paradise. Bhimruli guava market comes alive with boats carrying farmers, buyers, and tourists.
As the morning mist lifts over the vast expanse of the Sundarbans, the rhythmic splash of oars fills the air. Small wooden boats, mostly paddled by women, glide through narrow canals and creeks of the mangrove forest.
Shinduria is more than just a scenic village -- it is a thriving ecosystem shaped by water, tradition, and time
Imagine if the next global fashion sensation did not emerge from Paris or Milan but quietly bloomed in a lotus pond in the wetlands of Bangladesh.
Around five kilometres away from Jhalakathi district town, past the buzzing Kirtipasha bazaar and post office to the outskirts where the urban cacophony begins to fade, a colossal relic of Bengal’s feudal history rises like a spectre through the foliage- the Kirtipasha Zamindar Palace.
When you grow old, you slow down your pace and seek calm. You want to be away from the hubbub of city life and live for yourself; toying with this realisation, I am in search of a quiet place to drop my anchor. I am twiddling between Rajshahi, Faridpur, and Barishal.
The sky hung low over Dhaka, wrapped in winter smog that blurred the sun and muffled the city's sounds. A heavy silence lingered as we made our way through the chaos of Sadarghat, boarding an overnight ferry bound for the coast. We were escaping the choking haze in search of open skies and tidal
Spread across 753 acres, the campus teems with lush greenery, tranquil water bodies, and a surprising richness of wildlife.
