End of an era: As internet reaches rural homes, memory loading business fades into the past

Just five years ago, the entirety of Sayeed's business capital consisted of a single computer, a small table, and one chair. A handwritten sign taped next to the table read: "Ekhane memory load kora hoy" (Memory cards are loaded here).

The phrase might seem somewhat confusing to many, especially today's urban youth. However, before the internet became widely accessible, entertainment in rural Bangladesh didn't come from streaming services or social media—it came from small "memory load shops" set up along market sidewalks.

Run by young entrepreneurs with second-hand computers, these businesses served as the main source of multimedia for entire villages. Today, many of them have disappeared — but their story remains a chapter in the country's digital journey.

Villagers would show up with their feature phones, eager to have their cards filled with Bangla and Hindi films, folk songs, waz-mahfil, or pala gaan. They would return home with their minds full of joy and their 2-gigabyte or 4-gigabyte SD cards packed with content for the next one or two weeks.

People would come to Sayeed with their memory cards. Using a card reader and his computer, Sayeed would load the cards with songs, films, dramas, and TV series. His main customers were school and college students.

But villagers too would show up with their feature phones, eager to have their cards filled with Bangla and Hindi films, folk songs, waz-mahfil, or pala gaan. They would return home with their minds full of joy and their 2-gigabyte or 4-gigabyte SD cards packed with content for the next one or two weeks.

Different shopkeepers charged in different ways. Some charged Tk10 per gigabyte, others 20. Some had a flat rate for a full memory card.

All of this content was downloaded from the internet—most of it pirated. Sayeed, like many others, never really saw it as unethical or illegal—just an easy way to serve a community hungry for entertainment.

Some websites ripped music albums and films from CDs and uploaded them online, which, of course, was illegal for the most part. But for many, especially in rural areas, internet access was limited or nonexistent.

Streaming songs, movies, or TV shows was not really an option. Slow speeds and patchy coverage made it nearly impossible. As a result, people turned to shops like Sayeed's to get their memory cards filled. Over time, a quiet industry took shape, built around the demand for offline entertainment.

Sayeed's floating business was based in front of the Barguna Pouro Super Market. He did not own a shop himself — he simply set up a table in front of an electronics appliances store.

Shops lined the market from one end to the other. In front of each were similar setups: a table, a computer, and two plastic stools — one for the owner of the computer, one for the customer. In exchange, Sayeed and many others like him had to pay the shop owner Tk100 per day. 

That business no longer exists, with the exception of a few. 

"When Covid-19 hit, all the shops closed. I lost my source of income. Once the lockdown eased, I used my savings — along with some borrowed money — to open a small electronics shop in the village market," Sayeed said.

That new venture, he said, is going rather well. "At the beginning, things were slow, as is the case with any new business. But now, people know me, and sales are going pretty well."

Another businessman with a similar story is Ripon. In 2011, he rented a shop in the local market and began loading memory cards. He also offered mobile recharge services. 

"When I started, I was the only one in this market doing this kind of business. The local youth's love for music and films really grew from my shop," he said.

"Eventually, others joined in, and many of them have since left as well. After the pandemic, people have become much more dependent on the internet. As a result, not many come to us anymore. I have stopped loading memory cards altogether."

According to Ripon, internet usage surged several times over during the pandemic. Online classes, staying in touch with loved ones — these pushed more and more people into using smartphones. Consequently, internet data packages started selling in greater numbers. Before Covid-19, customers would buy 5 to 10 GB packs from Ripon's shop. But after the pandemic began, dependency on the internet increased significantly.

Mobile operators began offering 30 to 40 GB internet bundles. People's entertainment habits changed, too. Now, many pass their leisure hours scrolling through Facebook, YouTube, or TikTok. Ripon said rural customers now regularly spend Tk400 to Tk500 or sometimes even more per month on data plans — something unheard of just a few years ago. 

With fewer people coming in for memory card loads, he closed that side of the business. However, he now earns much more than before through mobile recharge services. Also, he has expanded his business to include mobile repair services.

Like Sayeed and Ripon, many others once ran similar businesses but have since moved on. Some started different ventures — electronic goods shops like Sayeed's, or services like mobile recharge, and mobile financial services transactions like bKash, Nagad, and Rocket. Some found jobs elsewhere.

Yet, there are still a few who remain in the trade — take Shahadat, for example. He too owns an electronics shop. From low-cost feature phones to various gadgets and household electrical supplies, his shop offers it all.

Alongside that, he still has his computer setup. Shahadat said that many villagers still come to his shop to load songs and films onto their memory cards, especially older people or those not very familiar with using the internet.

He downloads music, films, or waz-mahfil onto his computer and loads them onto customers' memory cards. Shahadat admitted, though, that the numbers have dropped. "In the early days, loading memory cards was all I did. But over time, I had to diversify and stock new items. These days, electrical goods sell far more."

For many born in the '90s who grew up in rural towns and villages, these memory loading shops carry an almost nostalgic significance. Some would save up their tiffin money, others would coax their parents into giving them a few extra bucks, just so they could rush to the nearest memory load shop.

Today, many of those early entrepreneurs have moved on, adapting to the changing times with resilience. Some have opened photocopy and printing shops, now in steady demand with the rise of online forms and official paperwork. Others have turned to offering digital services — helping job seekers fill in online applications, printing CVs, or downloading government forms. These small but vital services have made their shops indispensable in local markets.

A few have gone a step further, setting up modest photo studios, offering services like photography, basic edits, and document scans. While the memory card loading trade has faded, the resourcefulness that built it lives on. These former 'memory loaders' may no longer be the gatekeepers of rural entertainment, but they remain part of the country's ongoing digital journey, just in a different form.

As broadband internet slowly reaches remote parts of the country, these memory load shops may remain relevant to rural communities for a little while longer. But in time, they too will disappear—existing not in the real world, but in memory, etched into the hearts of an entire generation.