In our days, one landline served the entire moholla – and half the neighbourhood aunties answered your calls before your parents did. If you misbehaved, Amma’s flying chappal had GPS-guided accuracy – one silent glare, one clean hit. Eid was pure magic: a new panjabi, some Tk 10 Eidi, and rooftop laughter with cousins till midnight. Fast forward to today, where kids have personal phones, fear screen-time limits more than chappals, and won’t call it Eid unless there’s a new outfit, a viral reel, and at least 500 likes before lunch.
In a small Bangladeshi town, a politician sought advice from his lawyer friend after making a questionable move.
Molla Nasiruddin took his donkey to the roof, but it refused to come down. Despite his efforts, the stubborn donkey resisted, kicking relentlessly.
Consumers worldwide notice that companies often use sneaky tricks to boost profits at the customers’ expense.
How common is it in our daily life when a teacher or boss sets a deadline, and we all think, “Oh, I’ll start in ten days!” Suddenly, time shrinks, and it’s panic mode: emergency declared, day-and-night sprints commence, and the assignment emerges from chaos.
Move over nine-to-five office hours! In Bangladesh, where traffic jams are our unofficial “overtime”, the idea of a 90-hour workweek sounds like a plot twist in a Dhallywood movie.
Thinking about building your dream home in a prominent real estate compound? Brace yourself for a mountain of rules that, surprise, primarily benefit the authority.
In our days, one landline served the entire moholla – and half the neighbourhood aunties answered your calls before your parents did. If you misbehaved, Amma’s flying chappal had GPS-guided accuracy – one silent glare, one clean hit. Eid was pure magic: a new panjabi, some Tk 10 Eidi, and rooftop laughter with cousins till midnight. Fast forward to today, where kids have personal phones, fear screen-time limits more than chappals, and won’t call it Eid unless there’s a new outfit, a viral reel, and at least 500 likes before lunch.
In a small Bangladeshi town, a politician sought advice from his lawyer friend after making a questionable move.
Molla Nasiruddin took his donkey to the roof, but it refused to come down. Despite his efforts, the stubborn donkey resisted, kicking relentlessly.
Consumers worldwide notice that companies often use sneaky tricks to boost profits at the customers’ expense.
How common is it in our daily life when a teacher or boss sets a deadline, and we all think, “Oh, I’ll start in ten days!” Suddenly, time shrinks, and it’s panic mode: emergency declared, day-and-night sprints commence, and the assignment emerges from chaos.
Is procrastination just a well-choreographed dance with time?
Move over nine-to-five office hours! In Bangladesh, where traffic jams are our unofficial “overtime”, the idea of a 90-hour workweek sounds like a plot twist in a Dhallywood movie.
Thinking about building your dream home in a prominent real estate compound? Brace yourself for a mountain of rules that, surprise, primarily benefit the authority.
During a job interview, Hassan, an MBA graduate, confidently highlighted his unique strengths as being his versatile skills and strategic thinking. However, when asked about specific skills like coding, data analytics, or AI, he conceded that he had not mastered any.
In Bangladesh, human resources (HR) often feel like driving a car without an engine—lots of noise, no progress. By 2030, 39 percent of core job skills will be obsolete, yet we’re stuck debating Excel training. Heads of HR, treated as attendance monitors, lack the tools to tackle this shift. Automation looms, poised to replace jobs faster than Dhaka traffic consumes patience. Without urgent reskilling, our demographic dividend risks becoming a liability. With machines learning faster than humans, the future won’t wait for us to catch up over endless cups of cha. It’s time to act before it’s too late.
