Abeer Hoque, who has attended a few of the silent reading parties in Brooklyn, N.Y., said she plans to read a book on her phone next time, but turn it to airplane mode to stop new emails and social-media notifications from distracting her.
Dhaka, Bangladesh (07/21/14)
By Noor Shirazie
This is the village that my dad was born in. Its about a 30 min ride from #Sylhet town centre on a #tuktuk. This was my 4th time visiting it and the last time I was here with my dad , there was no electricity and there was no concrete paving. It just used to be mud with cobble stones for people to get across during the monsoon season. Now only a handful of people live here with most going to the city due to better economic job prospects.
#Bangladesh #village #mytravelgram #mytravelphoto #m24instudio #wanderlust #explore #natgeo #lp #asia #villagelife
Durga killing the buffalo demon, two variations in stone at the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.
Bangladesh, 11th century.
Indonesia, 14th-15th century.
1971 Photo of a Taxi in Dacca Bangladesh. Dacca is now Dhaka… Copyrighted work John Gabriel
Was the massive tri-river delta of the Ganga-Brahmaputra-Meghna really empty of its most famed export, the King of Fish, the Hilsa?
Specialized hilsa fishermen in small dinghies and large wooden trawlers alike, both in the sweet-brine rivers and out at deep sea, had all yelled back the same two dreaded words: no fish!
This fish is 1.5% of Bangladesh’s GDP. Where had it gone?
There was one other place. The river, they say, which holds the tastiest hilsa of them all. In local lingo, “Poddha nodir ilish,” or the hilsa from the river Padma.
I would have to go there to see if I’d find a different story.
The dot matrix Olivetti printer was noisy. The XT computer came without a hard drive: two floppy disks uploaded the operating system. When the electricity went (as it often did), we had to reload it. Our bathroom doubled as our darkroom. A clunky metal cabinet housed our prints, slides, negatives and files. Anisur Rahman and Abu Naser Siddique were our printers; I was photographer, manager, copy…
The Exotic Rissole by Tanveer Ahmed
Description from Goodreads.com:
At turns humorous, stirring, and bravely honest, this memoir considers what it means to grow up as a Bangladeshi-Australian in Sydney’s western suburbs. Eleven-year-old Tanveer Ahmed lives an unpredictable and very entertaining double life—sampling the delights of Aussie cuisine, joining a cricket team that gets mistaken for a terrorist group, and hosting a Bollywood-style game show. Offering insight into the immigrant experience, this book is about the unexpected stories that emerge when cultures clash and a blend of identities define a single individual.
It is about 8 pm, August 26. The season thus far weighs heavy on the crew of this seagoing fishing trawler.
After two full days in the Bay of Bengal, they have only 10 kgs of hilsa to show for their labors. The proceeds have to be shared among the 14 crew, and that is less than one hilsa per fisherman.
The whole season has been thus. They already know they won’t be able to pay back their debt this year.