Fayeza Hasanat

Fakir Lalon Shah: A Lighthouse in the Unreal Bazaar of the Blind

He spoke of women on equal terms at a time when women were not even people in the country where he lived (and they still are not—neither in the land of Lalon nor in the world that we proudly claim as ours.

2y ago

The Blighted Garden

I took my leave from the Siraj family, thanking them for their hospitality. I was just a stranger and yet they let me stay with them for weeks.

2y ago

Mostly Sunny

“This weather app is a life saver, I’m telling you! Look how sunny this weekend will be!” Ruma pointed at her phone with her freshly manicured fingers—donned with diamond rings. As her fingers tap-danced on the seven day weather chart on the phone, her listener got distracted by the new rock on her pointer finger.

3y ago

Three, Not Three

In the farthest end of the horizon across the river by the edge of a forest surrounding the dark hills sat a cottage made of dried palm leaves and rattan sticks in which lived an old woman.

3y ago

Memories at War

I often consider war as a quasi-synonym for memory. After all, memory is nothing but our present in constant war with our glorified, vilified, expressed, suppressed, erased, and fragmented selves floating in past space and time.

4y ago

A Translation of Mojaffar Hossain’s “Subservient Country, Independent People”

Majid kept sniffing the air as he walked. He slowed down when he heard someone’s footsteps behind him.

4y ago

The Name Game

When it comes to their names, most people in Bangladesh may find themselves in a convoluted situation.

4y ago

Musing on Things Unspeakable

Prejudice is a monstrous thing, and so is the tendency to be judgmental—the mindset that allures us to put ourselves in the shining armor of righteousness.

5y ago
October 15, 2022
October 15, 2022

Fakir Lalon Shah: A Lighthouse in the Unreal Bazaar of the Blind

He spoke of women on equal terms at a time when women were not even people in the country where he lived (and they still are not—neither in the land of Lalon nor in the world that we proudly claim as ours.

December 18, 2021
December 18, 2021

The Blighted Garden

I took my leave from the Siraj family, thanking them for their hospitality. I was just a stranger and yet they let me stay with them for weeks.

April 24, 2021
April 24, 2021

Mostly Sunny

“This weather app is a life saver, I’m telling you! Look how sunny this weekend will be!” Ruma pointed at her phone with her freshly manicured fingers—donned with diamond rings. As her fingers tap-danced on the seven day weather chart on the phone, her listener got distracted by the new rock on her pointer finger.

December 19, 2020
December 19, 2020

Three, Not Three

In the farthest end of the horizon across the river by the edge of a forest surrounding the dark hills sat a cottage made of dried palm leaves and rattan sticks in which lived an old woman.

March 21, 2020
March 21, 2020

Memories at War

I often consider war as a quasi-synonym for memory. After all, memory is nothing but our present in constant war with our glorified, vilified, expressed, suppressed, erased, and fragmented selves floating in past space and time.

December 14, 2019
December 14, 2019

A Translation of Mojaffar Hossain’s “Subservient Country, Independent People”

Majid kept sniffing the air as he walked. He slowed down when he heard someone’s footsteps behind him.

December 7, 2019
December 7, 2019

The Name Game

When it comes to their names, most people in Bangladesh may find themselves in a convoluted situation.

November 16, 2019
November 16, 2019

Musing on Things Unspeakable

Prejudice is a monstrous thing, and so is the tendency to be judgmental—the mindset that allures us to put ourselves in the shining armor of righteousness.

August 11, 2019
August 11, 2019

A Serenade of Love

In a soggy London street he stood, shaking his dreadlocks like wind-struck branches of a willow and moving his weathered bow on the shiny strings of his broken violin.

June 22, 2019
June 22, 2019

Requiem for the Rain

“Tell us a story, Khona apu,” Trina said. “You can’t go anywhere in this rain. I’m sure your flight will be cancelled. The runway has become a river by now!” She giggled. “Don’t give me that worried look! Mohon and I will drive you to the airport the moment the roads