Some legacies are merely handed down, transferred to a presumptive next-in-line by the inert push of the past. Other legacies are earned – and thus more truly owned – by those who, unforeseen and perhaps even unwelcome, rise up to claim them.

It is almost axiomatic that free speech is indispensable to democracy.

COVID-19 has had an unprecedented effect on people all around the world and Bangladesh is no exception.

When we get there at the break of dawn, Cox’s Bazar is asleep and unexpectedly cold. Pinching at our cheek, making everyone scrunch up their noses. But reassurances drop in from right and left that the coast is rarely ever cold, for a long stretch anyway.

On 3rd May, after 12 am, I turned on my computer and began to write a short article regarding my missing father. I didn’t know back then that I was about to get a call and would be able to talk to my father in two hours.

Some of us speak words and these words become weapons. Some of use actions in our daily lives – gestures of kindness and compassion,

Mysterious events surrounding the ‘disappearance’ and ‘recovery’ of photojournalist Shafiqul Islam Kajol are by now well known.

In the Palace Museum of present-day Beijing, 10 stones of about 90 cm height and 60 cm diameter contain some ancient Chinese symbols.

The COVID-19 pandemic has shaken the world’s economy and has been the most pronounced public health disaster since the Spanish Flu which took place just about 100 years ago.

The usual pace of human life has suddenly come to a halt, thanks to an invisible organism. A novel form of coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2, responsible for the coronavirus disease (COVID-19), has completely changed our lives in just a few months.

Over three decades ago, in 1988, March 8 was first observed in Bangladesh as International Women’s Day. The women’s movement has always been deeply rooted in this society.

Throughout human history, people have claimed and controlled nature and have built empires of civilisations.

In the realm of infectious diseases, a pandemic is the worst case scenario. When an epidemic spreads beyond a country’s borders, that’s when the disease officially becomes a pandemic.

It is years ago now. The day I took a bus to the southernmost tip of Bangladesh with a group of people wearing khaki-coloured shirts, two-in-one pants, carrying heavy duty binoculars, spotting scopes and talking excitedly about a bird.

Amidst much fanfare, US President Donald Trump officially unveiled his long awaited “Deal of the Century”—the plan for resolving the century-old Palestinian-Israeli conflict—on January 28.

What distinctly separated Bengal from most of the other regions of India was the generous endowment of nature, nurtured and sustained by the mighty rivers flowing down the Himalayas into the Bay of Bengal.

Behind his big glasses and mischievous smile hid over 50 years of experience in publishing. Very few people would be able to claim the same kind of knowledge and understanding of the ins and outs of publishing as Mohiuddin Ahmed, Emeritus Publisher and Director, The University Press Limited.

Visionary duo Rajeeb and Nadia Samdani, the cofounders of the Samdani Art Foundation (SAF), has been organising Dhaka Art Summit biennially since 2012.

Uniting artists from three nations, Homelands: Art from Bangladesh, India and Pakistan was inaugurated at Kettle’s Yard, University of Cambridge, UK, on November 12, 2019.

Hashi Chakraborty, nickname Bachchu. I only heard his mother call him by this name when she used to come to Bangladesh to visit her son. He was born in his maternal uncle’s home in Gournadi (1948) and grew up in Barisal in his own house.