When 23-year-old Jannatul Nayeem boarded a flight from Dhaka to Kunming, he carried more than a suitcase. Packed alongside his clothes was the weight of a stubborn spinal disc problem -- and months of frustration over elusive diagnoses and dead ends.
Cradled in the rolling, green embrace of Khagrachhari’s Panchhari, the small villages feel like a place where time slows down to match the rhythm of nature.
During the monsoon, Jhalakathi transforms into a floating paradise. Bhimruli guava market comes alive with boats carrying farmers, buyers, and tourists.
As the morning mist lifts over the vast expanse of the Sundarbans, the rhythmic splash of oars fills the air. Small wooden boats, mostly paddled by women, glide through narrow canals and creeks of the mangrove forest.
At first glance, a sigh escapes almost involuntarily.
Shinduria is more than just a scenic village -- it is a thriving ecosystem shaped by water, tradition, and time
Imagine if the next global fashion sensation did not emerge from Paris or Milan but quietly bloomed in a lotus pond in the wetlands of Bangladesh.
Around five kilometres away from Jhalakathi district town, past the buzzing Kirtipasha bazaar and post office to the outskirts where the urban cacophony begins to fade, a colossal relic of Bengal’s feudal history rises like a spectre through the foliage- the Kirtipasha Zamindar Palace.
When you grow old, you slow down your pace and seek calm. You want to be away from the hubbub of city life and live for yourself; toying with this realisation, I am in search of a quiet place to drop my anchor. I am twiddling between Rajshahi, Faridpur, and Barishal.
The sky hung low over Dhaka, wrapped in winter smog that blurred the sun and muffled the city's sounds. A heavy silence lingered as we made our way through the chaos of Sadarghat, boarding an overnight ferry bound for the coast. We were escaping the choking haze in search of open skies and tidal
There is something comforting about that familiar zip, the reassuring click of a sturdy wheel rolling across a polished airport floor, the reassuring heft of your suitcase as you navigate new cities and distant horizons.
When 23-year-old Jannatul Nayeem boarded a flight from Dhaka to Kunming, he carried more than a suitcase. Packed alongside his clothes was the weight of a stubborn spinal disc problem -- and months of frustration over elusive diagnoses and dead ends.
Cradled in the rolling, green embrace of Khagrachhari’s Panchhari, the small villages feel like a place where time slows down to match the rhythm of nature.
During the monsoon, Jhalakathi transforms into a floating paradise. Bhimruli guava market comes alive with boats carrying farmers, buyers, and tourists.
As the morning mist lifts over the vast expanse of the Sundarbans, the rhythmic splash of oars fills the air. Small wooden boats, mostly paddled by women, glide through narrow canals and creeks of the mangrove forest.
Shinduria is more than just a scenic village -- it is a thriving ecosystem shaped by water, tradition, and time
Imagine if the next global fashion sensation did not emerge from Paris or Milan but quietly bloomed in a lotus pond in the wetlands of Bangladesh.
Around five kilometres away from Jhalakathi district town, past the buzzing Kirtipasha bazaar and post office to the outskirts where the urban cacophony begins to fade, a colossal relic of Bengal’s feudal history rises like a spectre through the foliage- the Kirtipasha Zamindar Palace.
When you grow old, you slow down your pace and seek calm. You want to be away from the hubbub of city life and live for yourself; toying with this realisation, I am in search of a quiet place to drop my anchor. I am twiddling between Rajshahi, Faridpur, and Barishal.
The sky hung low over Dhaka, wrapped in winter smog that blurred the sun and muffled the city's sounds. A heavy silence lingered as we made our way through the chaos of Sadarghat, boarding an overnight ferry bound for the coast. We were escaping the choking haze in search of open skies and tidal
