Hasan Meer

“Mithu! Hey Mithu!” calls reverberate along the length of the road in front of Shah Ali Mazar on a cool winter midday.

Every day at the break of dawn, Albert Mrong sets out from home on his bicycle with a bag full of medicines. He rides over the uneven terrain of Madhupur -- surrounded by banana orchards -- stopping at homes of worried villagers and giving them necessary vaccines and antidote for their cattle.

The bandits came through Buriganga. They were swift and ruthless, stealing goods and cargo from boats in open water and docked along waterfront piers.

Sitting on the floor by her son, Nurunnahar gently moves Ibrahim’s head upwards and helps him drink water.

With its clean and calm ambience, the institute looks like a privately-run one, well-equipped to provide treatment to patients.

It’s dead of night. There’s an eerie silence all around. In the limitless, cloudless sky above, millions of stars can be seen glittering. There’s the constellation and that one in the distant is the Orion -- all seem to be moving in a rhythmic and orderly way -- that too in an almost touchable distance!

On the night of October 14, Sanjida Begum fell off the stairs of her Azimpur New Colony residence, and hurt her leg.

Did you know in the early days of the postal system, a “dak harkara” (runner/postman) -- attired in bright uniform with badges, satchel full of mail on his back, armed with a spear for self-defense, a lantern in hand to show the path and jingling bells or bugle to announce his arrival ahead of time -- was the protagonist in mail delivery?

Imagine a place in the middle of hustle and bustle of Old Dhaka, where one can relax with family or friends, or even walk around a lush green courtyard.

Every day at the break of dawn, Yakub Ali heads out to his bakery at Nazira Bazar.

Imagine a family going home for the holidays. The jovial trio -- father, mother and a five-year-old boy -- reach Sayedabad Bus Terminal on time.

It's almost midnight. Sulaiman glances at his watch and leans forward to look at the traffic on Kazi Nazrul Islam Avenue near Farmgate, Dhaka.

They were waiting for the sun to set.

“We will celebrate Eid next year. I promise I will get you new dresses then. I will also cook shemai (vermicelli) for you.

Once Dhaka was adorned with several hundred ponds. Like canals, only a handful exist now. But they are also in death throes due to negligence of the authorities concerned. Although, according to the Field, Open Space, Park and Natural Water Body Protection Act 2000, filling up of any water body including pond is illegal, it's going on unabated.

The man sits on a rickshaw-van with small plastic containers full of some kind of seeds in front of him.

There I was, on a rickshaw, trying to figure out life, the universe and all, at Panthapath, while sipping from a bottle of cola.

Confusion, denial and finally, elation – these were the three stages of emotions that I experienced when my son enthusiastically informed that he wanted to go outside and play football with me.

Your dream should not be only about getting a job, rather getting the best job in the universe! Why limit your imagination? Reach for the stars. Dream big, even if you stumble and are stuck somewhere in the middle, don't stop dreaming.