Ignoring the concerns of journalists and rights defenders, the Digital Security Act was passed in the parliament on September 19, 2019. It is known both at home and abroad to be draconian, antithetical to freedom of speech and democracy.

Eight years ago, I saw a small ad in the Friday magazine of The Daily Star which changed the course of my life—for better or worse.

2019 has not been a comfortable year for the media globally. While nobody has yet tallied up the numbers internationally, 7,200 jobs were lost just in the U.S., according to the business and finance news organisation Business Insider’s own calculation.

As democratic backsliding has become a global phenomenon and hybrid regimes—a political system which has both democratic and authoritarian traits—have proliferated, freedom of the press has come under threat all around the world.

When we talk about changes in the media eco-system, we do not only talk about the medium but also the content, business models, and ethical practice of journalism. Media organisations that used to control both content and channels now only produce content;

Why do you think independent publications like Himal Southasian are important in today’s media landscape?

Under your editorship, we got two leading newspapers in Bangladesh—Bhorer Kagoj and Prothom Alo. How did you plan the content of these newspapers, and their editorial structure and policy? How did you make them stand out in a market already occupied by several age-old, reputed newspapers?

Roshni Islam, 23, is a student of environmental science at Independent University, Bangladesh (IUB). On a typical day in her life, she wakes up around 8am and goes through a rotation of social media apps on her phone.

Yes, our world has entered into a new phase of rule which can be termed as surveillance capitalism, at home as well as on a global scale. Shoshana Zuboff, the author of The Age of Surveillance Capitalism writes, “At its core, surveillance capitalism is parasitic and self-referential.

When the Internet came, media outlets were faced with two contrasting choices: provide a web version for people to read content freely or risk descending into irrelevance.

The first time I reported professionally was in 1973 covering the DUCSU elections. I was excited, but I nearly got whacked when two political activists mistook me for an activist—long beard, long hair, long chador etc.—and chased me. I just kept moving as they shouted, “What are you doing here when others are gone?”

What kind of an end are we talking about here?

The soft light of the setting sun illuminates the entire section every time I walk in, mostly because I AM ALWAYS LATE. On one side white balloons hang, on another side a dart board.

So it has finally happened. Hard as it is to accept it, the Star Weekend magazine is about to close the curtain after an impressive run of 23 years.

This is the fifth and final (for now) instalment in a fiction series about a family navigating the woes of immigrant life.

I sometimes think of Dhaka as an ancient twisted folk tale—one with a mystical, rusty lamp with a faux genie.

At Star Weekend, we try to find and frame the stories around us. Stories of strife and injustice and joy and history. This week, in what feels like a penultimate time, we decided to explore some of the stories that exist within.

I hate my apartment. I hate the mismatched floor in every room, the red kitchen counter, the broken tiles in the bathroom. I hate that every time it snows or rains I have to pray it doesn’t start leaking in my closet again.

The death’s head is panther-stalking her through the party. Bodies washed in neon pink ebb and flow, sinking and rising from the shadows as light thrums.

Impunity under the radar