How a boy's childhood dreams come alive in miniature launches, buses
Shuvo Ahmed runs a small workshop in Dhaka’s Khilgaon, where he brings those early wonders to life by building miniature, motor-powered launches and buses that move, sound, and look almost real
By the banks of the Kirtankhola River in Barishal, a young boy would watch launches slice through the muddy water. To him, they weren't just boats – they were breathing giants of steel and sound.
That childhood sensations never faded. Today, Shuvo Ahmed runs a small workshop in Dhaka's Khilgaon, where he brings those early wonders to life by building miniature, motor-powered launches and buses that move, sound, and look almost real.
And what began as a juvenile hobby has now grown into a full-fledged business. Shuvo now builds 15-20 miniature model buses a month, priced from Tk3,500 to Tk90,000, and launches costing Tk40,000–45,000 each. Some special ones cost a lot more.
"When I was little, I used to make clay boats just to see them float. I thought – What if I could make a launch that actually runs?" Shuvo recalls.
As the saying goes, when there is a will, there is a way – Shuvo kept at it. During his school days, he learned model-making by watching YouTube videos on borrowed phones and started working on his own projects.
"To buy parts, I saved my tiffin money – and sometimes," he laughed, "borrowed from my mother's purse. You could say I learned model engineering with money stolen from my mother."
His first attempt – a metal launch made from an old wardrobe sheet – sank instantly. But he didn't give up. He scavenged toy cars for motors, repurposed scrap plastic and tin, and kept experimenting.
A mentor from afar
Shuvo's persistence paid off when a video of his half-working launch caught the attention of Miadul, a Bangladeshi expatriate living in Italy who has a keen interest in ship designing. Impressed, he reached out to guide Shuvo online.
"He became my guru [teacher]," said Shuvo. "He taught me about materials, design, and patience."
With that mentorship, Shuvo switched from metal to fibreglass and PVC, lightweight yet durable materials. Soon, he was building remote-controlled launch modelled after Bangladesh's iconic vessels – Parabat-18, Sundarban-12 – miniature tributes to the ships that once amazed him.
Each model took months, and every failure brought new lessons. "The finishing kept getting better," he said proudly.
Turning passion into profession
By 2023, Shuvo turned his hobby into a business, opening NFS Production in Khilgaon with six young apprentices he had trained himself.
But the real push came from his wife. "She told me, 'You've made launches. Now make something that moves on land.'"
That suggestion birthed his next venture – miniature buses that can be moved with a remote control.
His first launch model, a replica of a Parabat, stunned social media. It wasn't a toy – it had headlights, indicators, opening doors, and suspension. Orders soon started coming in.
"People loved my launches, but few could afford them," Shuvo explained. "Buses were cheaper, faster to build, and part of everyday life."
Each bus is crafted from PVC, fibreglass, steel, and rubber, balancing flexibility and strength. Prices range from Tk3,500 for small indoor models to Tk90,000 for large 4.6-foot replicas.
Shuvo produces 15-20 buses a month, all handmade, each with a serial number. Local bus operators like ENA, Sohag, Green Line, and Unique feature on their sides.
Among his creations is a 4.6-foot Volvo coach worth Tk70,000. "I couldn't sell it," he smiled. "It feels alive when it moves."
Tiny machines, real mechanics
Building a bus, Shuvo said, is easier than a launch. "A launch needs to float perfectly – it's about balance and resistance."
To make one, he designs the hull's skeleton, shapes the curve for water resistance, and layers fibreglass before fitting the motor and stabilisers. Each model launch costs Tk40,000-Tk45,000 to build, yielding modest profits.
His proudest creation – a 60-kg remote-controlled launch – can tow a real boat carrying six people. "That one cost me Tk1.5 lakh," he said. "It's the largest RC [remote-controlled] ship in Bangladesh. I'll never sell it – it's my soul's work."
In the corner of his workshop stands his dearest creation – the 60-kg launch that can pull real boats. He keeps it polished, occasionally testing it in nearby ponds.
"When it moves, I feel like I'm watching my childhood dream come alive," he said softly. "I used to sit by the river and imagine this. Now, I don't just watch – I make them move."
Building an industry from Scratch
In Bangladesh, model engineering remains rare. But Shuvo sees potential. "There's a growing hobby market. People buy RC cars for Tk1 lakh. Why not Bangladeshi-made ones?"
Through his Facebook page, NFS Production Ltd, he receives steady orders – from kids wanting simple cars to collectors commissioning display models. Customers can order online or visit his buzzing workshop of wheels, wires, and resin fumes.
To manage cash flow, Shuvo takes a 30% advance per order. "Everything's handmade – we can't mass-produce. So patience is part of the deal," he said.
His customers seem to understand. One from Patuakhali ordered a 3.6-foot Green Line double-decker complete with wipers, indicators, and engine sounds. It took three months. "He said it felt like the real thing shrunk into his living room," Shuvo recalled with pride.
To Shuvo, his craft is more than a hobby – it's engineering in miniature. "If Bangladesh can build ships for the world," he said, "we can build models that represent them."
His next ambition is to create educational model kits for schools, teaching children about mechanics and design. "If I'd had something like that as a kid, I'd have learned faster. I want the next generation to start earlier."
Still, challenges persist. Imported materials are costly, and local ones often lack quality. Customs duties raise prices further. "Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting the system," he said. "But when I see a child's face light up at a moving model – that's enough to keep me going."
