LIFE AS IT IS

The Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania has been serving gastronomes for 127 years. The historic market has survived the Great Depression and two World Wars! On a September Saturday, we decided to explore this public market, which attracts more than 100,000 people every week during 'normal' times. The Daily Star link The moment you step through its doors, the clatter, the bright ceiling lights and most importantly, the aroma in the air will make you hungry. Although you would want to buy or taste a little something from every stall, that is quite impossible, because there are more than 80 merchants busy at work in this indoor marketplace. The vendors at Reading Terminal Market sell a wide array of items, chiefly food; from fresh produce, seafood, meats and poultry, dairy and cheese, baked goods, ice cream, chocolate, spices and condiments, beverages, and ready-to-eat foods, which you could enjoy in its food courts before the pandemic hit us all. Its Center Cou

This has been a terrible year, a tragic year, a year that seems to me longer than all the other years I have lived. This is the sort of year that lingers on, stubbornly refusing to come to an end. However, as I look back on 2020, I tell myself, “In spite of all the heartbreaks and losses, there are many things that I am still thankful for.” Health and wellness The pandemic has brought people closer. Yes, there are times when seeing each other  24/7  is leading to more frequent arguments and disagreements among family members, but when I think of all those families that have empty chairs at their dining tables, I cannot be thankful enough for my own health and my family‘s health. At the time of writing this piece, Johns Hopkins’ data table shows that more than 1.4 million people have succumbed to death because of COVID-19.  Financial security So many of us take so many things for granted, especially when it comes to fulfilling our basic needs like food, shelter, and clothing. However, t

 ⛄️It is not snowing, though. ❄️ #watercolor #myartjournal

Americans voted with zeal and fervour; they voted in-person and by mail, setting a record voter turnout, even amid a pandemic that is ravaging their nation. Joe Biden bagged more than 75 million popular votes, the highest so far in American political history. The 2020 US election saw so many firsts; America created history by electing its oldest president, and also its first female, Black and South Asian Vice President. Vice President-elect Kamala Harris represents a new face of the political power. On the 100th year of Women's Suffrage that is, American women gaining their constitutional right to vote, the country elected a woman as its next Vice President. When it comes to political leanings, Bangladeshi Americans have historically favoured the Democratic Party. This year was no different — they voted enthusiastically for their favourite candidate. We asked Bangladeshi Americans living in different parts of the country how they feel about this historic election. It seemed likely

When I  first s tarted writing for The Daily Star’s (DS) youth supplement, the Rising Stars (RS), back in the late ‘90s, it was business as usual. I mean, those were the days when a writer still used to pen an article using a real pen, so did I. I hand-wrote my articles, placed them in envelopes, and dropped them in the mailbox outside DS’ then office in Dhanmondi.  After I joined the RS team of writers/contributors, I began to type my write-ups on our desktop computer, save them in a floppy disk, and take them to the DS office. A floppy disk? Yes, those were the days of floppy disk. Looking at a floppy disk would probably leave a kid of today wondering if it is some kind of a 3D model of the ‘save’ icon!  In the 2000s when email became a popular mode of communication, I no longer needed to carry floppy disks to the DS office. I would just write an article on my computer and email it.  It saved time, money, and also the occasional trouble of a floppy disk not responding in a computer o

W hen she sleeps in my lap, I gaze at her. I gaze at her because I still find it hard to believe that I carried her for nine months. I touch her soft hair, her tiny fingers and toes, I pull her little round nose, I squeeze her cheeks and gently massage her arms. No, nothing wakes her up. She squirms for a few seconds but does not become fully awake. She perhaps knows that she is in a place that is as safe as it can be. The pain was harrowing, nothing I ever felt before. The twenty-three hours of labour seemed like twenty-three days of suffering. Her back was against my back when her back should have been against my belly. The result? Back-breaking labour. Yes, I had back labour, which is far more painful that normal labour. I thought I would pass out. A few times I thought I would die giving birth to my daughter. In spite of everything it was the first time in my life I thought I was strong. I always had an idea that I was physically weak but the birth of Wareesha just blew that idea a