Reingkhyong Lake Tour
By Devasish Roy-Wangza for AlalOdulal
About thirty-five of us – including six women and about ten local men porters – took a seven-day trek from Farua village within Farua Union (“For-ua” in Tanchangya), Bileisori sub-district of Rangamati hill district to Bethuni Para, Ruma sub-district, Bandarban hill district, all within the Chittagong Hill Tracts (CHT) in southeastern Bangladesh, from 22 to 28 December, 2011.The team included former Farua Union Parishad (UP) member, Jacob Tripura,
Artists featured at the Bengal-ITC SRA Music Festival. © Dhaka Tribune.
Our Political Misomusists
by Tibra Ali for AlalODulal.org
It is an elementary fact of linguistics that the same word can carry different meanings. In particular, the word ‘Indian’ can have multiple meanings. Continue reading
Burning Sensation and the Case of ‘Classical Music Festival’
by Seuty Sabur for Alal O Dulal
© Daily Star
I have never been a fan of ‘Prothom Alo’ but I do admire their power to master the wind and change their palates accordingly. Oh! How beautifully they manage to stir up the sentiments of both agony and ecstasy simultaneously. Continue reading
Child Bathing in the Buriganga (© Faheem Haider)
Bathing in the Buriganga
Faheem Haider for AlalODulal.org
Mahmud Hasan. Source: Facebook
Introduction to Mahmud Hasan’s The Utopia of Student Movement
by Nazmul Sultan for AlalODulal.org
A poet by vocation, Mahmud Hasan lived in and through politics. That Mahmud Hasan did poetry under the condition of politics is not a historical anomaly. Sharing each other’s orbit, modern Bengali poetry and politics grounded themselves in an intersected domain. Continue reading
By Ikhtisad Ahmed for AlalODulal.org
Joya was far from comfortable. The metallic desk-chair had gaping holes in its plastic upholstery. The sharp edges of these gaps protruded outwards and mischievously jabbed the unfortunate occupier. She had positioned herself on the brink, which had no tears, but the rusty metal frame pressed against her thigh coldly. The cup of tea that rattled against the matching saucer in her shaking hands had long gone cold. The drying bag of PG Tips poised delicately on the lip of the plate muffled the sound in parts.
Memories of her father
Dhaka City. Source: Sandeep Menon Photography, Flickr.
Lisa had always envisioned Bengal as a land of unsurpassable warmth and beauty. Now that she was here, she thought of all those moments when her mind had done a scene-by-scene play of how she would feel when her flight touched down in Dhaka. Would her first aerial view be of trees lining the airport road, or water bodies caressing the city’s eastern borders? Would the aircraft make a rough landing during a pre-monsoon boishakhi thunderstorm or smooth sail on a crisp, sunny, winter day? Perhaps she would arrive during the monsoons, so that the rain could rejuvenate the tree-lined streets by her grandparents’ house, to their greenest, in anticipation of her arrival.