The week in re(ar)view
Traders claim it is an artificial crisis created by a cartel of middlemen and oil refiners. We claim it is outrageous.
Livestock officials have been slashing left and right chalking up the kills in 5 digits. Families whose income depended on chickens see their dreams going up in fluff.
Doctors wanted, skills negotiable
It is sad that we have the money to waste on purchasing equipment but no one skilled to work them or even perform the basic installation. A Tk 19.68 crore radiotherapy machine at Shaheed Ziaur Rahman Medical College in Bogra is sitting idle because the room it is installed in leaks radiation. A total of Tk 30 crore worth of machinery is lying idle.
In another case there is no cardiac surgery department but there is equipment for it. What we need to do is get our ailments diagnosed, download instructions from the net (everything is on the net) and go hook ourselves up to a machine. Fancy a dose of radiation with a cup of tea anyone?
Fisherman have found that catching shark is a lucrative business despite there being a ban on this activity.
But when money is concerned, we can take down anything no matter how many teeth. In fact, the more teeth the merrier. Shark teeth and bones are used as ornaments, fins provide soup, fat is used as medicines and skin gives leather goods.
By Mood Dude and Gokhra
There lived people from legends, fairy tales and all other stories one can think of. But they were one, only one step away from 'living happily ever after'.
Rapunzel, for one, always had her hair dangling from the window of her tower but Prince Charming the First could never manage to climb the tower. Every time he tried, he plummeted to the ground and broke something.
Prince Charming the Second always felt that there was something holding him back from giving Sleeping Beauty the precious kiss that would wake her up.
Lastly, Prince Charming the Third rambled around the entire land looking for the woman (a.k.a. Cinderella) who'd left behind the slipper. But he could never find her.
By now, I guess you know what this story lacksa hero. You'd expect thunder, lightning, and fair maidens swooning. But no, that didn't happen.
The hero was an ordinary person, banished from his landThe Land of Hatred. Unlike his fellow citizens, he had never learned to hate. How he found his way to the Land of Peace Far Far Away, no one knows. He set his foot on this land, one fine morning and went straight up to the king.
Almost instantly, the people were told to assemble in the Royal Gardens. There the king spoke:
“I have learnt that this land of ours is cursed! A dreadful curse had fallen upon us years ago and this is the only reason why we can never 'live happily ever after'. Indeed we are doomed”
Flowers wilted. Little girls cried. Birds fell from the sky.
“Indeed it is true. It was the Wicked Witch from the Far West. She would never let you people be happy. Hence the curse fell upon us. But now, here I am to lift the curse”.
The crowd waited. There was silence. The curse was lifted. People rejoiced. The hero smiled. He was still smiling when the people left. Then came the monologue.
“HAH! They don't even have the slightest idea that a curse ever so dreadful shall be cast upon them. The people of this land shall suffer forever! I will rule their lives. The people shall never be happy. Why, you wonder?
He laughed an evil laugh.
By Nafisa Naomi
Cha er dokan
(The tea stall)
I remember countless mornings with sleepless night, when I used to walk down to a Cha er Dokan right beside the lake in Ladies Park at Gulshan 2. Dhaka always seemed to be more of in a good mood in those dull lethargic mornings with no qualms or plans; and those definitely were some of my most favorable days. I especially used to go there when it rained all night; just to sit by the lake, shaded under the trees and watch the rain drops painting on the lake. The shopkeeper's name was Malek; Malek chacha as I used to address him. His habit was to collect the golden foils from Marlboro cigarette packets, which he used to neatly keep beside his cashier machine; a round Nido tin box. He used to make the best tea ever with pure cow's milk and a pint of sugar. I lost contact with him ever since I came to the US. This poem is for him.
Drowsy days dipped in the rain
By the lake beside the drain.
The shop keeper curls up his knees staring at the
The puddle from the drain splashed by labored wheels
By Adnan M. S. Fakir
The golden years
I wish I was a kid again,
"Come back, come back," mother would cry,
Often with my parents I would disappear
Those golden days, best days of my life,
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