Part one: The Spinning of the Propaganda Machine The year was 2016. I was in Dhaka, Bangladesh. I received a proposal from a publisher acquaintance of mine to write on a topic about the indigenous people of Bangladesh. Without even pausing to think, I said yes, only to realize my mistake minutes after hearing the
Manu says, “Do not marry a girl whose hair is pale, whose body is flawed, who is eternally ill, who has no body hair at all or has too much hair, who speaks too much, or whose eyes are brown. Discard her, who is named after the stars, the trees, the rivers, the barbarians, the
1 I read the news about six months ago, probably on Al Jazeera. 2020 is such a bat in the belfry year with so many COVID-19, wildfires, riots, and insanities happening all at the same time that you might not remember the story. I remember it vividly. In May 2020, twenty-four Bangladeshi migrants were killed
