How do the monks on ice live magically and produce wonders through detachment from worldly angst?
Truth recently decided to die an inglorious death as it got tired of watching rulers leading their nations with lies.
How do the lives of the underserved women change and who can potentially come forward and become a part of their story?
The apparent return to basics, the turn to healthier living, the leap to soliloquys have turned out to be beneficial. At least in theory, we all agree that the world needed a correction.
We are living in a time of self-doubt, of suspicion, of negation, and of regret.
When the sky isn’t looking clear anymore, to say you are watching the clouds go by with the hope of a better day is being cautiously optimistic.
I took a break from writing columns ever since I took over as the President of the Bangladesh Manufacturers and Exporters Association.
Over 8,000 km away, everything looks different. The skies, the sunrise, the people and of course, trade. In Paris, the three-day Organisation of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) Forum on Due Diligence in the Garment and Footwear Sector,
I always need a clean sheet to write on. I always prefer the backside of a calendar month to detail projects.
Back from the UNGA. In the last 5 months and 10 days that I have been serving as president of Bangladesh Garment Manufacturers and Exporters Association, my brain has been on an overdrive.
Your columnist has just completed a little over a month of being a “female” leader of an exporters’ association.
It's an era of innovation. It's an era of efficiency. In one part of the world, they are making “smart” jackets, which are creating a microclimate for the wearers, by using carbon fibre heating pads, and are also using Amazon's smart assistant Alexa to even pre-heat the jacket before the consumers are putting them on.
A friend of mine calls me a “wo-man”. The reason why he hyphenates and breaks the word is a surprise. I asked him why he does so and he explained.
Close to midnight, it felt surreal. Being in the Samsun Airport in Turkey, only 1.5 flying hours away from Istanbul, made me feel as if I were in a new world. It wasn't a world of magical surprise or rapid development, but one thing was for sure: it was a land that told and sold stories well.
I laugh when the western media goes on a rant about us, the eastern democracy, the eastern economy and the eastern human rights condition.
Ever since 1996, your columnist has been in business. She runs a company that has multiple businesses which once grew from one core business of exporting readymade garments years ago.
Half an hour away from home, the air smells the same; the people seem similar, but there's definitely a lack of ostentation. One does not drive through streets of Kolkata in the latest cars; the roads are still swamped with yellow taxis and a touch of Uber and Ola has changed the scene only a bit.
Education indeed. Getting to Phnom Penh took me to yet another learning curve. Not being able to fly out of Dhaka for almost close to 18 hours is a story to share, but getting de-planed and watching passengers reacting to the situation is another narrative altogether.