#dhaka
Everything written under the skin of one city — monsoon lanes, ferry ghats, rickshaw mornings, and the slow grammar of a Dhaka that refuses to sit still. The tag I reach for most often.
On Reading the City: Old Dhaka After Rain
A monsoon afternoon in Shankhari Bazar, spent reading the city the way you read a difficult novel.
Rickshaw Bells and the Grammar of a Dhaka Morning
Every city has a syntax. Dhaka's begins before sunrise, in bells and engines and opening shutters.
An Afternoon at the Shuttered Presses of Bangla Bazar
Past the old printing houses where, a century ago, this neighbourhood set the first Bengali books.
The 6 a.m. Ferry Ghat at Sadarghat
What the river looks like before the city is awake enough to crowd it — a different, gentler Dhaka.
Tea Stalls Are the Last Public Libraries
On the corner cha stall as a reading room — where the day's news is argued over and never settled.
Notes on Walking a City That Was Built for Cars
The small rebellions of a pedestrian in Dhaka, and what you see when you refuse to take a rickshaw.
What Load-Shedding Taught Me About Quiet
On the strange gift of a city that goes dark for an hour, and the conversations the dark makes room for.
The Alley Behind My Grandmother's House
One narrow lane, mapped over forty years, and everything it has refused to forget about us.