Buriganga’s silent scream
SHIHAB stands knee-deep in the Buriganga, rhythmically dipping long rolls of fabric into vats of colour. Each plunge releases clouds of bright yellow and crimson that swirl briefly before dissolving into the river’s inky current. Nearby, his younger brother Shanto stirs another drum of dye, his hands raw and stained, his gaze fixed on the churning water as if searching for...















