How do you process news like this? How do you deal with this kind of knowledge? Not just any death, but the passing of the supreme idol of your childhood and teenage years? Short answer is, you don’t. You simply … Continue reading Diego: a personal obituary
“Adieu, Architect” –Adnan Morshed Khan [EXCERPT] …Bashirul Haq was fortunate to find a mentor in Fazlur Rahman Khan (popularly known as F.R. Khan), a fellow countryman, partner of the famed Chicago-based architectural/engineering firm Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM), and structural … Continue reading Bashirul Haq (1942-2020)
The Bangladeshi psyche is a moral and political waste land today. In this dizzying and disorienting kaleidoscope of decay, one name shines more brightly than anyone else today: Faraaz. Continue reading “Staying Back”
It is due to the initiative of Professor Amalendu De that the grave of Rokeya Sakhawat Hossain, one of the vanguard thinkers of equity and rationalism in the subcontinent and a great spokesperson for human rights, was found in Sodepur, near Kolkata. Continue reading “Remembering Historian Amalendu De”
Justice Habibur Rahman (1928-2014)
by Faruk Wasif, translated by Nadine Murshid for AlalODulal.org
Let people judge Justice Habibur Rahman. They have his writings to judge him by. I can only think of the last time I saw him. It was December 23, 2013 at his residence. When he saw me he cried ‘Ki hain’ (What’s up!), as he paced his roof. That’s how he was. Continue reading “Justice Habibur Rahman (1928-2014)”
“Bipul did not get his due respect. His contribution to the music arena and also as a ‘shabda shainik’ in the Liberation War is immense. But the new generation hardly knows him. His songs were not been archived in an organised manner and did not get due coverage in the TV and radio media.” – Indramahon Rajbansh Continue reading “Bipul Bhattacharya (1955-2013): Last Song Of Freedom”
MY GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE in Teteliguri—a village about 50 kilometres east of Guwahati, northeast India’s largest city—was a chaotic place, home, when I was growing up, to more than 20 relatives. It was there that I spent most of my school vacations, there, in that L-shaped house—where at least three women were required to lift the huge cauldron of rice off the hearth—that I began to read. Continue reading “Know Thy Neighbour: Aruni Kashyap on Humayun Ahmed”
Had he lived, my friend and ally Jalal Alamgir would have been 43 today. Instead of mourning in his tragic and untimely death, let us celebrate his life, and vow to continue his work for a progressive, democratic Bangladesh.
Young poet Mahmud Hasan died yesterday. He was a Philosophy student at Dhaka University. At his funeral, his parents made one request of his friends: please collect all his writings and publish them, so his memory can be honored. We are publishing Mahmud’s last poem, written two days before his tragic death. Translated by Naseef Amin.
That the passing of Sunil Gangopadhyay came as a shock to many – despite his age and health – is a reflection of his being, till his last Puja season during which he died – the most prolific and recognizable mainstream writer in post-1947 Indian Bengal.
I will not dwell on literary critiques; I am not qualified. While, like most NRI-kids, I was very much aware of who he was growing up (our parents would always pass around his latest book after a trip to Calcutta) I was hardly able to delve into his tomes. In that I shared a disconnect with an increasing number of middle class Calcutta kids more proficient (at least reading) in English and even Hindi than in their parents’ tongue. I saw the films and serials people like Satyajit made from his works, and as English-translations started becoming available, I trawled through his seminal works such as Purba Paschim, Shei Shomoy and Prothom Alo. But that doesn’t form the basis of my bond. Continue reading “Kakababu choley gelen: Sunil Gangopadhyay (1934-2012)”
Remembering Mowla Boksh Text, Image, & Video by Zaid Islam
Mowla Boksh, a legend of the Lalon Phokir gharana, breathed his last on 16 August 2012. May the Lord rest him in peace.
We don’t realise what we got until it’s gone. Mowla’s departure reminded me of this once again. I started remembering his unique craziness, his humour, his incomparable style of musical mastery, and how passionately he was constantly celebrating every moment.
I started to miss him.