The cityscape on Fridays
On the occasion of World Photography Day 2025, which was celebrated on 19 August, I explored the city to capture its simplest scenes
I am a 'Dhakaiya' and I have always loved watching the city in motion. Fridays are my favourite days to step out with my camera, when the week's study and work pressure eases and the streets feel just a little different. From the bustle of New Market to the busy corners of Dhanmondi Lake, the city hums with life and even familiar places seem to tell new stories. Photography for me is not just about freezing moments, it is about noticing the small details, the fleeting expressions and the scenes that often go unnoticed in everyday life.
On the occasion of World Photography Day 2025, which was celebrated on 19 August, I explore the city to capture its simplest scenes and look back at the photographs I captured in the days leading up to it, moments that often go unnoticed yet define Dhaka in all its colours and contradictions.
Most of my clicks happen on these Fridays, when Dhaka seems to pause for a second, breathing a bit different on a holiday. Streets are slower, the sky often surprises, especially this time of the year and people leave behind a bit of their everyday rush while the city offers snapshots of its colour, energy and quiet surprises.
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Take the University of Dhaka for example, a place that never runs out of stories. One afternoon I found a group of kids in uniforms running across the green field near TSC. Their laughter and tiny steps touched the grass like innocence meeting history. Not too far away, a street kid sat quietly on a wooden box, staring at my camera with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. His expression still lingers in my mind, reminding me how unnoticed lives around us carry volumes of untold stories.
And then, near Aparajeyo Bangla, another child played with colours on the street. His joy painted the space more vibrantly than the mural behind him.
The university campus also carries the poetry of rain. I once saw two friends running frantically to catch the university bus, drenched yet smiling. On another rainy Friday I captured two others who gave up on the rush and decided to simply soak in the downpour together. Moments like these remind me that the rain in Dhaka is not just weather, it is an emotion that bonds strangers, lovers and friends.
Sometimes my lens turns away from people and finds solace in nature's tiny wonders. I once chased a dragonfly for what felt like hours, waiting for the exact moment its wings froze in stillness. Another time, I knelt to the ground to click a snail on its slow journey, its pace almost teaching me patience.
And in the skies above, Dhaka revealed colours that felt larger than life. This year, July gifted me a soft blue one day, a golden hour the next and then a fierce red-orange sky that looked monstrous yet beautiful.
Watching birds cut through a purple sunset or the silhouette of a mosque against the evening sky, I realised the sky is perhaps Dhaka's most generous canvas.
The city never fails to juxtapose contrasts. At one end I found three pickaxes perfectly aligned during a road construction, their symmetry oddly artistic in the middle of dust and noise. At another my camera stumbled upon sleek supercars racing through Gulshan's traffic, a striking contrast to a farmer I later saw struggling to balance heavy sacks of potatoes on his bicycle. Dhaka swings between extremes and my photographs are proof of it.
Eid-Ul-Adha brought another layer to this collection. The cattle markets overflowed with life and energy and in one particular frame I saw a resemblance to Zainul Abedin's portrayal of Bengal. Only here, instead of canvas, there was commerce, survival and a strange sense of festivity.
Yet, not every frame of mine is loud. Some are about peace. A sleeping puppy on a sack of hay under the afternoon sun, ducks gliding quietly in Dhanmondi Lake, boats parked lazily after a day's paddle rides.
Even a grumpy cat staring back at me became part of my Friday diary. These simple creatures remind me that in the middle of a restless city, rest still exists.
And sometimes, there are frames that are purely about joy. Two bestfriends laughing loudly during a paddle boat ride on Dhanmondi Lake or kayakers slicing through golden waters as the sun dipped behind Dhaka's horizon. These are the pictures that make me grateful for being born in this city.
Every Friday when I walk out with my camera, I find Dhaka waiting with new stories. I just try to capture them before they disappear.
