The flower of scrap: How Asma built a life from what others discarded
From scraps to survival, Asma Akter—a single mother and self-taught artisan in Dhaka—is building a life from what others discard, one handmade craft at a time. Her initial success stands as an inspiring tale for others who dream of doing something on their own riding out all adversities
In the narrow alleys of Rayer Bazar, Dhaka, a pink bicycle leans quietly against a parked van. It belongs to a 32-year-old single mother, draped in a black burka, who lives a few floors above in a cramped two-bedroom flat with her two children.
Each morning, Asma Akter loads the bicycle with bundles of handmade crafts made from scraps—a mountain of baskets tied to the front and back—before setting off for Iden College, where she sells them.
"This is how my day begins," she said while tightening the ropes around her goods. The heat clings to her skin, yet she pushes forward—because her survival, and that of her children, depends on how long she can carry the mountain on her shoulders.
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She spends most of the night and early morning turning the discarded materials she collects into jewellery and decorative crafts. Then she pedals nearly six kilometres to Iden College.
"I work around 18 hours a day," she said with a smile, as sweat rolled down her face.
Asma became a familiar face on social media after a video of her carrying her handmade products went viral—a quiet symbol of women's empowerment from the margins. Like her crafts, Asma's life is self-made, forged through years of struggle against forces determined to drag her back to the gutter. She has not yet got the real taste of success and reached her true destination—but hers is a story in motion, one that has already inspired thousands.
Originally from Barishal, Asma studied until class eight. Her husband, a drug-addicted rickshaw puller, left her during the Covid lockdown.
His absence, like his presence, brought little peace. "He left me with scars I still carry," she remembered. "He beat me, tortured me so badly that I'm surprised that I'm still alive."
With no family to rely on and no formal training, Asma did whatever she could to survive. She worked as a housemaid, as a market cleaner, in garments, in hospitals, and in junk stalls—the list goes on.
"I took whatever work I could find," she said, until she began to piece together a life using what others had thrown away.
Old water bottles, yoghurt cups, plastic scraps—the things most people throw away—became the raw materials of Asma's crafts. She collected them from the homes where she once worked as a maid and from junk stalls scattered across the city.
Her bestselling items are bangles and rings.
The bangles are usually wrapped in colourful fabric and adorned with decorative elements. Earrings are cut from thick cardboard, shaped and embellished by hand. Hairbands, pen holders, flower vases—all emerge from waste, reimagined into something purposeful.
"I cut thick cardboard into specific shapes and decorate each piece with small ornamental details to create earrings," she explained.
Asma learned everything from YouTube.
"After making one product, I kept thinking—what else can I try? What else can be useful?" That search for new ideas became her routine.
She even took discarded drawing notebooks from the houses she cleaned, using their colours in her designs. "I couldn't afford paint or materials," she said.
Her shift to full-time crafting began in 2024, after she was fired from the house where she worked as a maid for taking part in a street protest during the July Uprising.
That painful moment marked a turning point.
While domestic work had sustained her, it also exposed her to many indignities. "I was rated one of the top maids on HelloTask," she added, "but I was mistreated in many homes."
Afterwards, she turned to food delivery with foodpanda—pedalling her bike and surviving day by day.
Even then, her entrepreneurial spirit shone through. "While delivering food, I also carried hand-ground moringa leaves and other homemade items to customers—the kind traditionally prepared on a grinding stone," Asma explained.
Her resilience is exemplary as she has no ties to her husband's family, nor her own. "Everyone tries to curry favour with the well-off people," she lamented. "But I fight alone."
Asma earns around Tk 25,000 a month—enough to cover rent, feed her children, and keep the lights on, but not enough to grow her business. Her flat, which is entirely cramped with scraps and the crafts she made, costs around Tk 10,000.
What she needs now, in her words, is a modest investment. "Just two lakh taka," she added. "That's enough to set up a business ecosystem." A small workspace, better materials, and a structure to scale up—that's all she needs right now.
People sometimes call her mad or tokai (urchin)—a slur for someone who scavenges trash. She shrugs it off. "I do what I must," Asma concluded confidently.
