How mobile phones 'killed' the board game-makers

Four employees of Kader Ludu Factory were silently working on the third floor of a century-old building in Chhoto Katra, Old Dhaka.  

Chhoto Katra is a maze, and navigating it to locate the Ludu factory took us a long time. A few metres down the narrow alley – buildings and stores towering over it – the store operates out of a rented room in the old building. 

Its wooden stairs were crummy and ramshackle – we hesitated, pondering if they would carry our weight. The odour emanating from the surrounding dark indicated the presence of a rat habitat in the vicinity. 

Ruhul Amin, the manager of Kader Ludu, has been working here for the last 25 years and was witness to the peak years of Kader Ludu. He now presides over the business in its decline. 

"Once, over 25 people would work here day and night. Now we have only four people, including me. Even five years ago, we supplied more than 2,500 pieces of Ludu boards daily. Now we don't even produce 500 pieces a day," Ruhul said as he prepared a dish of gum to apply on the Ludu boards. 

Photo: Noor-A-Alam

"After the mobile games came, most Ludu factories went out of business," he said, adding, "In the past, our workers would do overtime here, working into the night, but now, we have to work outside as labourers to bring food on our plates." 
Ludu has been a popular board game in Bangladesh for a long time. And it still remains popular. People like to play this game at their leisure. But there's been a profound change now that the app-based Ludu game has become widely popular, leaving the once much-loved traditional board-based Ludu in the lurch.

Consequently, traditional Ludu board makers are increasingly losing their livelihood in the face of the digitalisation of the game. 

The story is somewhat similar for other board games such as carrom, or chess for example. The digitalisation of these games has put the livelihood of the workers and entrepreneurs in this sector in trouble. 

"It gradually declined over the last five years. Whenever the game went to people's mobile phones, our business dried up," Ruhul said. 

Imran Hossain, another employee at Kader Ludu said that there were many Ludu factories in Hazaribagh and Kamalbagh areas in the past. But they are no longer in business. Most of them have shifted to plastic businesses.

"There was a factory on the edge of this alley but that too has gone out of business," Imran said, adding, "I know people who failed  in the Ludu business and now work as rickshaw-pullers or day labourers. That happened in the last five years." 

Another employee named Shamim has worked here since childhood, for more than 20 years now. 

He explained how the digitalisation of the game sharply cut into their income. 

Photo: Noor-A-Alam

"Previously there was money in this line. You would see two rickshaw pullers playing this game if they didn't have passengers. It was popular. Unlike chess or carrom, which many people didn't understand, anyone could play Ludu," said Shamim, who believes Carrom or chess makers are also in crisis, but "not like us. Their market was always small." 

Shamim further added, "Now if there is work till evening, we can barely make Tk400 a day. In the past, we had more work, and we could earn Tk600 a day. Back then the value of Tk600 was a lot. The commodity prices were less back then." 

The employees are bearing the brunt of this declining market. Many have resorted to taking up second jobs "like lifting products on trucks in the night," said Shamim, who believes it is pointless to ask for a salary raise. "How [can it happen]? There is no sale. This business doesn't have a chance to rise again. I don't know what I will do in future," lamented Shamim. 

Aga Sadek Lane's carrom makers in despair 

In Old Dhaka's Aga Sadek Lane, we interviewed half a dozen carrom makers who said their business has fallen drastically in recent years. 

"There is an impact of digital gaming. Our sales have totally become seasonal now. It sells a bit in the summer but doesn't sell in winter. People are more unemployed in the fall than in winter. So they have more time to play games in the fall," said a factory owner named Ibrahim. 

Once there were more than 30 factories in this lane. But the number has dropped to less than half at present. Why? 

"Because the price of essentials has increased, but our selling price remained the same. For example, the price of a small board that we sold in the market for Tk200 – Tk250 five years ago has remained the same. 

"Suppose this board (56" * 56") costs me Tk4,200 to make. But still, I have to sell it for Tk4,000 because they won't buy at a higher price," Ibrahim said. 

"Just like many others who have left this line, I may also have to do something else. Take for example this December, I haven't sold a single piece [of carrom board] yet. In November, we sold less than 50 pieces of small boards. I had five to seven employees before. Now I am the only one who is working," he added. 

Photo: Noor-A-Alam

In the same lane sits Bashar Carrom. Its main craftsman Jamal has worked in the carrom factory for 25 years. "In the past, we would sell 300 pieces per month. Our factory is around 25 years old. Back then it was even possible to sell 50 pieces of carom per day," Jamal said. 

"We cannot even sell 50 pieces a month now. The decline had begun five to seven years back. Suppose a factory's rent is about Tk15,000 a month. Now will the owners pay workers, or pay rent, or earn something for himself?" he asked. 

Some workers at carrom factories, however, are a little optimistic in comparison to Ludu makers for a reason, and expect that someday their good days will return. 

"The game that people play physically with carroms cannot be exactly replicated in mobile phone games. It is more fun. So even though business got impacted, mobile games cannot take all our business. We will survive," said an employee at Bashar Carrom.