Literature | The Daily Star
  • The Meal
    The Meal

    Nishat prepares iftari, a sumptuous light meal that includes lemon...

  • On Grammar in Writing
    On Grammar in Writing

    I always tell my students that I’m not their language nanny. I’m an...

  • From Gitabitan
    From Gitabitan

    There’s no end, why then the last word needs to be said. What...

  • Truth, or Dare
    Truth, or Dare

    After finishing college, I wanted to stay in the city a bit longer,...

  • In spirit
    In spirit

    Wake up, girl! ...

  • Grace
    Grace

    Gabriella is a 40-year-old obstetrician-gynaecologist from...

  • Hilsa Fish Hunting

    Hunting for Hilsa

    My mother told me to get a big Ilish maach for Pohela Baishakh. My face went pale. However much I claimed to love my mother, I had no wish to go to the maachher bazaar.

  • Touring the Land of the Lake Poets

    The picturesque mountainous area in the north-west part of England, commonly known as the Lake District, is a top favorite tourist

  • The Last Burger

    A brown, robust dog looks on anxiously while sitting at a busy intersection of the city. The male dog has chosen a dark and safe place

  • Two Poems

    Autumn leaves are seasoned

  • The College Professor

    My cousin Nirmalya was born and brought up in Delhi. He would visit us in Kolkata occasionally while visiting his ancestral home and

  • “Novels cannot always be made only with the Imagination and the Pen”: A Talk with Mostofa Kamal

    Novelist Mostofa Kamla was born in the village of Andharmanik under Barisal district on 30 May 1970. He started his career as a

  • Cricket and Visions

    On March 18th, a poet named John was hit in the eye and knocked out by a ball while playing an informal game of cricket. Perhaps

  • Sodium: (Na)mesake

    Have you seen my City?

  • Melancholy Medicine

    60 mg of Prozac

  • BANGABANDHU AND BANGLADESH: Correcting Contrives and Cunning Corridors

    Lamartine — that mediocre poet but cunning politician in France during the revolutions of 1848 — once remarked that history is a trick that we, the living, play upon the dead.

  • Ek Kishorir Juddhajatra : A Painful Tale Told Spontaneously

    It’s the tale of a teenage girl’s reminiscence of her journey from home country to a neighbouring country to take refuge during the devastating war of liberation in the year 1971, told by herself at the age of sixty.

  • Freedom Fighter

    Ever-undaunted, I am heading forward, ignoring all obstacles,

  • Charon’s Obol

    “Mukti?” The word was a tremor of butterfly wings.

  • The 1971 we don’t talk about

    According to estimations, around 200,000-400,000 women were tortured and raped by the Pakistani Military and their collaborators

  • Lawrence Ferlinghetti Hits a Century

    Thanks to Google I have, at a click of the mouse, discovered that in our time around 165 members of the literary professions have

  • Independence, how this word became ours

    With the excitement of waiting for a poem to be composed

  • Not Like This

    The wise their moments spare will spend

  • From Gitabitan

    What made you leave hesitatingly at twilight? What made you falter at the threshold and look back?

  • The Name of the Beloved

    Tell me, Bell,

  • Victory I Have Seen

    If you ask me exactly when and how the Mujibnagar govt.-in-exile was first assembled, I cannot give you the answer right away, mostly because too many possible answers are floating in the air as I speak.

  • From Tungipara

    Sitting beside the secluded sepulcher Praying for the salvation of your soul,

  • Chawk Bazar, 2019

    The fire of Muspelheim rages In the dark alleys where for ages Ancient arts of beauty have been stockpiled By the masters of money and mind.

  • A Writer's Enigma

    I cannot write. For a month, it lingers. Every morning, I sit in front of my laptop and hope to write something new, something noble. But nothing comes out. Not a word, not a sentence. As if the sea of creativity has dried up.

  • MORNING WALKS

    Morning walks, or rather ambles, tip-toeing towards the rest of the day. One's day gathers pace seemingly hour by hour after one

  • The Artist

    Like it or not, the sun has all these rising points,

  • Delight in Disorder: South Asian Festival of Sufism and Buddhism

    The last email that I got from the organizers of the South Asian Festival of Sufism and Buddhism (the word Buddhism continued to be

  • Our Debt of Gratitude to Abdul Quadir

    Abdul Quadir (1906-84) was a poet-prosodist, essayist, editor, journalist, literary critic, bibliophile and collector of literary works. He

  • God

    A tiger kept prowling around a village, and naturally, the people became frightened. The cows, the calves and even men were mauled

  • Deconstructing Genre in Writing

    Does a piece of writing have a sex? Not really! It perhaps has a gender, which in French is genre. When it comes to distinguishing one

  • Patna Blues: Travails of a Minority Community

    An enjoyable read, Abdullah Khan's debut novel, Patna Blues is a thought-provoking and moving work as well. It is a book mostly

Top