But is animal cruelty something we only condemn during this particular time of year? What are the subtle and not-so-subtle acts of cruelty we exhibit as we interact with/rear/raise/consume livestock/pets/wildlife?
Prof Gawsia Wahidunnessa Chowdhury is one of two Bangladeshis who were recently named among the top 100 Asian scientists. In an interview with Abida Rahman Chowdhury of The Daily Star, she talks about her current projects, the scope of Bangladesh's policies and why they do not work, and how to encourage more women to take up STEM.
The more roads you build, the more cars there will be to fill them up. I am no expert, but the numbers don’t lie.
Cyclone Mocha was just the first of the season, and Bangladesh will face more in the days to come. We need to focus on a more holistic approach to disaster management, especially the evacuation process and recovery aspect, and not just rely on warnings and people’s willingness to move to shelters.
Do we all feel this heat similarly? The answer is no. It is no secret that if you are among the well-off in this not-so-well-off nation, you are better equipped to deal with this heatwave. There is a deep running inequality as to how the heat affects people.
Just one bystander can cause enough distraction to move the focus from the real situation on hand—which is to stabilise the emergency situation and save lives. So, who is responsible?
Bangladesh supports nearly 1.7 percent of the world's wildlife. How is that wildlife doing? Why does the chirping of birds no longer wake us? When was the last time a frog just showed up in our bathrooms?
As a traveller or visitor, if you have been to Bangladesh, you are no stranger to the shocking green everywhere, the chaos of Dhaka city, the absolute absence of rules anywhere, and if you have a keen eye then the straightforward, smooth and sometimes borderline funny naming of our businesses will surely intrigue you.
On a half-wooden, half-iron boat, a team of men and women in heavy winter gear and heavy-duty binoculars set sail on a very, very cold winter morning on January 5. Their destination was the sandbars and shallow water lagoons of the mighty Padma River.
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.
This is the fifth and final (for now) instalment in a fiction series about a family navigating the woes of immigrant life.
Maybe it was Anita Desai’s book The Village by the Sea or was it that movie My Japanese Wife—I do not remember so clearly now—that had us all riled up during that short four-day long journey down to the last villages of the Sundarbans.
The packing began months ahead of time, even before they had officially decided to move, even before tickets were purchased, even before the children could talk to their school and tell their friends that they were leaving home yet again.
Just a day after teenagers around the world skipped classes and gathered on the streets of Dhaka, Warwick, Hamburg, London, and
In Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book, a series of short fables published in 1894, Akela and Raksha were the wolf parents of Mowgli,
I had never gotten around to writing about Sathkhira, at least not as a travel destination. Maybe because travelling to this saline land
I have been recovering from a very long and arduous block in my reading life, a block that could not be broken by the fattest or
The child came just as dawn was about to crack. The earth had almost completed one rotation and was getting ready to light up again and along she came as the darkest hour of the night came to an end.
