Adopt A Road: How civic ownership helps Gulshan residents keep streets clean, commuter-friendly
The programme, launched in 2016, allows residents and organisations to fund and manage street cleaning, policing, and beautification, creating a culture of ownership that has kept the neighbourhood visibly cleaner and more orderly than most of Dhaka
While most mornings in Dhaka, the streets wake up reluctantly, with dust hanging in the air and drains smelling faintly of yesterday's negligence, in Gulshan, the script is somewhat different.
Roads here, for the most part, appear maintained, clean and occasionally even polished with plants and paint. And traffic, if not perfectly obedient, at least is aware of the idea of discipline.
"You have to help yourself. We already know what the situation in our country is. If we just complain and sit idly, nothing will change. And we wanted a change, so we took that upon ourselves," shared Syed Sadat Almas Kabir, a Gulshan resident and one of the early adopters of the area's 'Adopt A Road' programme.
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This stark difference between Gulshan and other areas of Dhaka did not appear accidentally. It began in 2016, when Gulshan Society, frustrated with the city corporation's half-hearted services, decided to step in.
Dr ATM Shamsul Huda, then-president of Gulshan Society had approached Dhaka North City Corporation asking how the neighbourhood could be better maintained. According to Shafiqur Rahman, deputy general manager of Gulshan Society, it was the late mayor Annisul Huq who urged them to try something new; a model where the community itself would take charge of its streets.
The idea was that responsibility, when shifted closer to the residents, would spark ownership and care. Since Gulshan was one of the few areas that could afford such an experiment, this was where it took root.
And so, the 'Adopt A Road' programme was born — a public-private partnership initiative where residents or organisations would literally adopt a road for a tenure, cover its cleaning, supervision, and even community policing, and in return, keep their own neighbourhood liveable.
It was a civic gamble, but one that is still going strong nine years later.
Taking charge of the street
The phrase itself has a somewhat parental tone. Adopt a child, adopt a pet, and in Gulshan's case, adopt an asphalt stretch with its potholes, its median strips, and its troublesome drains.
However, the idea is simple; a resident or an organisation adopts a road for a year and covers the maintenance costs. From the sweepers' salaries to the uniforms of community police and beyond, everything is covered through this agreement.
If both parties wish, the one-year contract can be extended. For those who cannot commit to a full year, Gulshan Society came up with shorter options like a month or even a single day. Symbolic, as it may seem, the initiative has expanded participation, creating room for people who wish to participate but do not want to shoulder the entire burden.
Al-Amin Hawlader, office executive of the programme, points out the scale, "There are 144 roads in the Gulshan Society area. Approximately 70 are adopted this year. The number changes depending on how many residents or organisations commit for the year."
Some roads have been adopted continuously by the same party since 2016, while others change hands depending on whoever can afford them.
There is also something quietly psychological at play. 'Adopting' a road creates a sense of ownership that taxes and levies rarely inspire. Residents and businesses do not just see a dirty road, they see 'their' dirty road, and that pronoun changes behaviour, resulting in less littering and more vigilance.
Hence, the collective shame of neglect is replaced by the collective pride of maintenance. And pride, despite being intangible, serves as a more powerful motivator than the majority of government notices.
What adoption really means
It is not like traditional charity; it comes with obligations written into a manual, a quasi-constitution of road-keeping.
The community workers assigned to a road are responsible for maintaining its cleanliness, preventing unauthorised parking, reporting suspicious activity, and when necessary, easing traffic flow.
Attendance registers are maintained, and all necessary equipment and tools required for the job, such as broom, spade, rake, basket etc. are provided by Gulshan Society.
Meanwhile, supervision is the adopter's and Gulshan Society's duty. In addition to funding it, they oversee the work. Adopters take on the role of micromanagers for municipal services, hiring, paying, and monitoring a parallel workforce.
And, to acknowledge their efforts, Gulshan Society provides certificates to the remarkable adopters. Although it may sound ceremonial, such tokens have significance in a city where positive recognition is hard to come by.
Shafiqur Rahman explains how it works in practice, "We have about 80 workers who clean the roads in shifts 24 hours a day, and 60 community police work along with them. We expect them to work sincerely, and since they are working for us, we must pay them fairly. Through the 'Adopt A Road' programme, we manage this."
Cleaning is just one step in the process. 'Adopt A Road' includes beautification, traffic management, drainage, lake clean up, and even the deployment of community police to areas of high interest. They work together with the Dhaka Metropolitan Police to make commutes more efficient, and at least in Gulshan's grid, one can sometimes sense a different rhythm compared to the rest of the city's free-for-all.
More than anywhere else in the city, this area demonstrates the fine line separating chaos from order. Shafiqur emphasised their work, saying, "If we stop working just for a single week, the whole scenario of Gulshan will change. Those who throw garbage here and there without realising how much effort it takes to maintain this environment will then understand the importance of it."
The civic culture of ownership
What makes 'Adopt A Road' so remarkable is not its efficiency, but its cultural shift. While most of us are usually busy blaming the authorities, quietly stepping over trash, here in Gulshan people have chosen the harder path, to treat streets as extensions of their homes.
Not all of it is altruistic, though.
Clean streets, safer roads, and managed drains directly enhance quality of life and property values. Gulshan's affluence cushions the financial model. Such an experiment would not be feasible in every neighbourhood. But the significance lies in the precedent, a section of Dhaka where ownership has evolved from a theoretical civic obligation to a daily routine.
Residents acknowledge that it has altered their perception of their environment. Now the roads, once anonymous routes, feel like something personal, almost familial.
Ashraful Hoque Asif, one such resident, puts it plainly, "Let's be honest. Employees of city corporations in our nation do not carry out their jobs in a responsible manner. They accept government salaries but they are not sincere. Gulshan residents thus took charge of their own locality. And you can see the difference while you visit Gulshan."
Limits of a local solution
The programme, however, reveals a bigger picture.
As Ashraful pointed out, city corporation employees continue to receive their salaries while residents pay again to keep things running smoothly. In reality, Gulshan residents are running a shadow municipality.
For Dhaka, this dual system shows both the resiliency of communities and the breakdown of state mechanisms. The 'ownership model' works in Gulshan precisely because the state has stepped back, and because a wealthy neighbourhood has the resources to step in.
The question still remains whether such an approach can, or should be, scaled. Could residents of Mohammadpur, Mirpur, or Old Dhaka also be expected to finance and run their own streets? Or is this a model meant only for affluent communities, leaving the rest of the city to struggle with subpar services
