Milia Ali
SHIFTING IMAGES
The writer is a renowned Rabindra Sangeet exponent and a former employee of the World Bank.
SHIFTING IMAGES
The writer is a renowned Rabindra Sangeet exponent and a former employee of the World Bank.
I write this column with some hesitation, since many may regard it a bit preachy or elitist.
Now that we have stepped into a new year, it may be time to take a brief pause from our hectic schedule.
She gave visibility to the invisible by exposing the exclusion of women from development activities.
Recently, I have been reminiscing about my music guru, the late Kanika Banerjee (known to her intimate circle as Mohordi).
I begin with an apology to my readers for my long absence. Covid played havoc with our lifestyle and livelihoods. Even then, we could make choices still within limited parameters.
Today, after a period of hiatus, I have once again taken up my pen (metaphorically) to remember and celebrate a hero—a woman of courage and integrity who changed the world, not with fire and fury but with her soft touch.
It has only been a month of isolation, yet it feels like “One hundred years of solitude”.
As my daughter and I drove to the polling booth last week to vote at the Democratic Primaries in the United States, I asked: “So,
I write this column with some hesitation, since many may regard it a bit preachy or elitist.
Now that we have stepped into a new year, it may be time to take a brief pause from our hectic schedule.
She gave visibility to the invisible by exposing the exclusion of women from development activities.
Recently, I have been reminiscing about my music guru, the late Kanika Banerjee (known to her intimate circle as Mohordi).
I begin with an apology to my readers for my long absence. Covid played havoc with our lifestyle and livelihoods. Even then, we could make choices still within limited parameters.
Today, after a period of hiatus, I have once again taken up my pen (metaphorically) to remember and celebrate a hero—a woman of courage and integrity who changed the world, not with fire and fury but with her soft touch.
It has only been a month of isolation, yet it feels like “One hundred years of solitude”.
As my daughter and I drove to the polling booth last week to vote at the Democratic Primaries in the United States, I asked: “So,
Over the past three months, I have lost many nights of sleep, abandoned my favourite political TV programmes, and ignored household chores.
I am sitting at my desk, with a hot cup of tea, peering out at the foggy winter morning enveloping the placid Gulshan Lake.