Subhi Shama

We share a heartfelt tribute to the maestro, Humayun Ahmed penned many years ago. The tribute, still as relevant as it was back then, points out the immensity of love and affection that we hold for the 'magician of words.' Rest in peace, sir.

I can't quite remember who picked us up—probably someone from the villa—but they played 'No Scrubs' by TLC in the car and it reminded me of my childhood. Secret hip hop aspirations stormed through my senses, and at once, I felt at ease. Like I knew you Marrakech, and you knew me.

On a terribly warm night in November, I sat on my couch, alone in Bangkok, and switched off my phone. If it was true, I wanted to see it. But if I saw it, I didn't want to talk about it.

The husband has a new thing where he invites everyone to the house. We recently had the audacity to believe we could survive a move in Dhaka, and since we sort of didn't die (except on the inside), he has developed a sense of pride about it.

It is no happy coincidence that my return to full time employment and my second foray into writing began at the same time.

In association with BMW, the sixth edition of “Pond's presents The Lustrous Runway”, was held on Friday, 21 August 2015 at the Radisson Blu Water Garden Hotel Dhaka. Providing a platform for up and coming local designers to showcase their collections alongside international counterparts, the show has carved a niche for itself as one of the finest promoters of cross-national fashion in Bangladesh.

“For we women are not only the deities of the household fire, but the flame of the soul itself.” ~ The Home and the World, Rabindranath Tagore

When my sister and I were growing up, we had a running competition every time we got into the car or sat at the dining table.