It was during the school-free weekends when my maternal cousins and I would huddle in front of our grandparents' grey old box TV after a hearty, yet customary lunch arrangement at their place. We would take up the gap on the floor between their king-sized bed and the unforgettable TV set to watch the black and white Satyajit Ray films, and even the vibrant late 20th-century Bangladeshi cinema, previously defined by over-the-top performances. The adults would lounge about on the bed, imbuing us with not only the significance of family viewing content but also a perception of what we understood as “our cinematic language.”
What makes a visual artist tick in the cacophony of your typical modern existence, which in hindsight has the tenacity to make one increasingly distracted? One of the answers lies with the recently declared winner of the second iteration of the 2025 East London Art Prize, Laisul Hoque. This all-media art prize competition received 900 submissions from artists and collectives living or working within London’s ‘E’ postcode this year. Laisul won £15,000 (over $15,000) and the opportunity to host a solo exhibition at the Nunnery Gallery in Bow, scheduled for 2026, owing to his interactive installation art piece “An Ode to All the Flavours” (2024), which was selected from 12 shortlisted artists.
Bangladeshi singer Resmi Mirza, one with a sharply grounded vocal prowess is also one with a tried and true love for folk music since the beginning of her musical voyage. Mentored by the celebrated Khulna Shilpa Kola Academy music teacher and founder of his own Music Academy Sa-re-ga-ma-pa, Mirza Golam Rasul, who also happens to be her father, Resmi found her direction. In a way, she found her calling having come from a musical family — her siblings are self-assured musicians too.
The country might have undergone an unprecedented shift in power this year, marked by various sacrifices that have, and will continue to, drive seemingly necessary transitions across all sectors.
The frameworks of portrayals of gender-based violence in our local productions have been birthed from the need to give voice to the oppressed Biranganas (war heroines)—as portrayed through several films or dramas throughout the years.
The arduous journey of Tamzid Islam Zarir, an ardent Shah Rukh Khan fan, reached its culmination this year during the SRK Day event on November 2. His story, as the current organising secretary of the devoted SRK fan club SRK Bangladesh CFC, gained significant attention earlier this month when he met the Bollywood icon alongside 400 to 450 other fans on the occasion of King Khan’s birthday.
As I stepped into the Central Shaheed Minar late in the afternoon, I was greeted with the jovial and embracing atmosphere of feminists from all corners of the city— and perhaps even beyond. Most were decked out in orange and red sarees, seemingly in line with a theme for the day. Some were even in work mode, going live on social media platforms to share updates on behalf of their organisations.
The intrinsically intricate nooks and crevices of the realities of living with mental health disorders can very well be deemed as being only ever harsher than those represented in media. Even the churning and voicing of these complexities via books or writing can only do so much to make people perceive mental health disorders for what they are. However, when push comes to shove, representations of psychological disorders in any form can mean a further step taken to bring awareness to them — and Bangladeshi projects seem to have touched upon two rather specific ways to represent them.
We for Them, a social welfare organisation based in Rangpur, started their journey in 2015. Currently, they are focused on navigating four different projects, based on raising awareness about different societal issues. They had to alter their priorities accordingly, owing to the ongoing pandemic.
Farzana Mubassira, Tasnim Ahmed Tahasin, Mehedi Hasan Bappy and Mostafizur Rahman are undergraduate students from Military Institute of Science and Technology (MIST).
