Prime Time At Sixty

My name is Mizan, and this is my story—a story of pain, resilience, and the extraordinary power of hope. It’s a story that began in the shadows of despair but found its way into the light through courage, unexpected allies, and the unyielding belief that even the most broken among us can rise again.   The Weight of My Past I was born into a family that, on the surface, seemed ordinary. My father was a government employee, and we lived in a small village where life moved at its own slow pace. But beneath the surface, there was a storm brewing—one that would shape the course of my life in ways I could never have imagined.   When I was just 8 years old, my father remarried. My mother, the woman who had raised me with love and care, was sent away to her father’s house. I remember the day I found out—my sister was crying, and my elder brother, who I called Bubu, sat silently by the window. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I felt a deep sense of loss. My mother ...

I still remember the days when I carried a bag of clothes on my shoulders, walking the chaotic streets of Mirpur, hoping to sell a few T-shirts to make ends meet. My name is Hasan, and this is the story of how I went from a struggling street vendor to the founder of Red Dream Group—a journey that taught me the true meaning of resilience, hope, and the power of believing in yourself, even when the world seems against you. The Weight of My Past I grew up in a small village in Barisal, the eldest of three brothers. My father was a retired army soldier, and while he dreamed of a better life for us, our reality was one of constant struggle. Money was tight, and the pressure to succeed weighed heavily on my shoulders. I remember my father telling me, "If you study for so long, you might go crazy.” But I knew education was my only way out. I studied hard, earned scholarships, and eventually made it to City University in Dhaka.   But even there, life wasn’t easy. I juggled multiple tu...

In the bustling streets of New York City, where dreams are born and shattered every day, there lived a young girl named Fatiha. Her story was not one of grandeur or privilege, but of resilience, hope, and an unyielding spirit that refused to be extinguished, even in the darkest of times. Fatiha was born into a modest family, her parents immigrants who had left their homeland in search of a better life. From a young age, Fatiha was fascinated by the mysteries of the universe. She would spend hours gazing at the stars, wondering about the infinite expanse of space and the secrets it held. Her curiosity knew no bounds, and she dreamed of one day becoming an astronaut, exploring the cosmos and uncovering the wonders of Allah's creation. But life was not easy for Fatiha. Growing up as a Muslim in a predominantly non-Muslim society, she often felt like an outsider. She faced challenges and prejudices that would have discouraged many, but Fatiha was not one to give up. Her faith was her a...

In the heart of a small, forgotten village in Bangladesh, where the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the cries of hungry children echoed through the narrow alleys, there lived a boy named Ripon. His story was not one of grandeur or privilege, but of resilience, hope, and an unyielding spirit that refused to be extinguished, even in the darkest of times. Ripon’s life began in hardship. His father vanished when he was just a baby, leaving his mother to fend for the family. She worked tirelessly, her feet swollen from endless hours in the fields, her hands calloused from labor. Ripon, barely old enough to understand the weight of their struggles, watched his mother’s silent tears and vowed to one day change their fate. But life had other plans. By the time Ripon was ten, he was already working, cutting grass for cows, fetching water, and doing whatever odd jobs he could find. He had no friends, no toys, and no dreams of school. His only dream was to survive. Yet, deep within...