Opar Banglar Ranna

Mejbani Mangsho

And meet my mother-in-law, T announces. The septuagenarian lady who walks out to the living room is ...

It is pouring outside. The sky is a canvas of monochromes, dull shades of grey, punctuated by ebony, ...

It is a time-stops-still Sunday afternoon. Lunch has just concluded, Maas lip-smacking chicken ...

Discover a treasure-trove of Ilish / Hilsa recipes. From Grandmom and Maas kitchen. And whenever, ...

I rattle off the steps once again in my head. Remember to marinate the meat overnight. Cook the ...

Come the first showers and the soulless dust bowl that our backyard had degenerated to in the ...

Bapi chose to remain uncannily reticent whenever Dada and I quizzed him about his and Grandma's ...

Bapi hardly spoke of his growing up years in what is today Bangladesh. Grandma would inevitably ...

One autumn evening, Bapi brings home a pair of binoculars. A childhood friend of his had been ...

It’s a sultry summer morning, the ancient fan whirring above struggles to provide any respite from ...

There’s a melancholy despair about Bijoya Doshomi. It’s meant to be a day of festivities and ...

The shrill of the phone punctuates the idyllic silence of a lazy afternoon. I am immersed in a ...