Korail: A community that dreams, dares and does

Whether you head to Korail through Banani or through the Mohakhali–Gulshan road area, it feels like someone simply stopped working midway while constructing the road. 

On one side there are those tall, shiny buildings and smooth roads, and then suddenly everything changes: the ground becomes uneven, the roads are broken, and instead of high-rises, there is a stretch of small tin-shed houses packed tightly together, constructing Dhaka's most densely populated area. 

The transition is so visible, it almost appears like a dystopia.

Korail spreads across about 99 acres of land, tucked under wards 19 and 20 of Dhaka North City Corporation. 

The slum can also be accessed by water across Gulshan Lake. 

According to a recent Nagarabad survey, around 60,000 families live here, most in single-room homes barely spanning 14 square metres, shared by up to eight people. 

The walls are tin, sometimes bamboo, sometimes patched with whatever material the residents can find. Many came from other districts — displaced by river erosion, or simply looking for work.  

Life here sits on the edge of permanence and uncertainty. Fires, floods and eviction drives have long been part of Korail's story. 

Resilience against all odds

I met Halima, a young girl born and raised in Korail. When a fire hit the slum in 2017, like many other residents, she also lost her house.  

"I was in class nine when I lost my home in that fire breakout. After that incident, I started joining a few workshops, on immediate fire service, community development events, urban gardening etc. One such workshop on paralegal services was provided by Bangladesh Legal Aid and Services Trust [BLAST] back then," said Halima. 

Today, Halima works as a paralegal at BLAST. She is also a member of the Shahid Rumi Memorial Library, which was established in 2014, when a few young university students decided to create a space for Korail's students to read. The library's volunteers, most students or young workers, run evening study sessions for children and organise occasional cultural discussions. 

Formal schooling in Korail is mostly run by NGOs. There is no government primary school. According to local reports and a 2020 study titled 'Analysis of Urban Slum: Case Study of Korail Slum, Dhaka', there are about 20 NGO-run primary schools and two high schools in the slum. 

"Since we don't have any colleges to study in after SSC, we have to go outside," Halima said. "Most of us go to T&T Mohila College, Government Titumir College, or sometimes even to the Vashantek Government College. Compared to before, families are much more aware now." She laughed, then added, "Even five of our friends here are studying law right now."

Against all odds, Korail keeps finding ways to adapt. 

Farming looks different here; Korail has quietly nurtured a network of micro-gardens along its periphery and in leftover patches, a kind of survival agriculture under extreme constraints. 

During the Covid-19 lockdowns, as food security faltered, community gardeners reclaimed unused land by the lakeside and planted leafy greens, herbs, and seasonal vegetables to feed families and reduce dependence on market supply.

They have also built their own small transport system; boats cross the Gulshan Lake carry people from one side to the other all day long. 

Halima told me that because of work and study purposes she has to visit areas of Gulshan and she prefers taking the boats like many other residents of Korail. 

"If I go to Gulshan-1 or Gulshan-2 by rickshaw, it costs around Tk80-100 each way. But by boat, it's only Tk5, and I reach faster since there's no traffic," said Halima. 

Community initiatives in Korail

Apart from schooling, many NGOs here run workshops and awareness sessions on hygiene, urban farming, reproductive health, birth control, menstrual hygiene etc. Others focus on improving infrastructure, working on sanitation, clean water access, waste management, and women's empowerment. 

According to community members, organisations like BRAC, ASA, DSK, BRISK, RIC, Intervida, Bureau Bangladesh, Glory, and SHAKTI have all been involved in non-formal education and community programmes over the years. 

Their work has shaped much of Korail's internal system, especially in health and primary education.

One such initiative came from Paraa, a research-based architectural studio, through their project 'Korail: A City of Culture', running from 2021 and funded by the Goethe-Institut Bangladesh. 

The goal, as one of the project coordinators, Tarannum Ali Nibir, mentioned, was to build a space that could bring people together and create something lasting within the settlement — a place that could be used, shaped and sustained by the community itself.

"We've been working in Korail for about five to six years," she said. "We tried to understand what kind of space people actually needed, especially women and girls. What could it offer, how could it be used for multiple things, since space here is always short?" 

Last winter, I attended an exhibition titled 'Moja Kori' at Korail. It was unlike any exhibition I had seen before. There were no polished hallways or whitewashed walls, no carefully curated calm. It was loud, chaotic and alive, just like Korail itself.

It was an initiative from Goethe-Institute and Parra, out of which an artwork titled 'Against All Odds—The Korail Chronicles' made its way to Paris, exhibited at the Révélations International Fine Craft & Creation Biennial festival. 

For this project, artist Suborna Morsheada collaborated with Monika, a resident of Korail. Monika said, "Suborna Apa contacted me for this project. I worked with her on three art pieces, and I took help from two more girls here. All three art pieces were about the everyday life of Korail, our struggle, and despite the struggle, how we dream and live against all odds."

Those pieces, Threads of Hope (a dream catcher), Quilts of Resilience (a kantha-stitched narrative), and The Phoenix of Renewal (a bird sculpture made from recycled packets), extracted from the ordinary materials and the ordinary stories of Korail and showcased all of them on an international stage. 

The resonance is simple and radical: life here is not only about loss; it's about repair, reuse, and beauty made from scarcity.

Korail youth carving out their own space 

Most men in Korail work as rickshaw pullers, drivers, hawkers or small traders, while many women work in garment factories or as domestic help in the nearby neighbourhoods. 

But as Halima said, "The younger ones don't want those jobs anymore. We're trying to study, even if it means doing part-time work to afford it." The part-timers usually work in sales or as tutors.

The youths here are tireless. They go to school, they do part-time jobs to help their families, and still they run a library and a cultural space. 

Monika, for instance, now studies LLB, is a member of the Shahid Rumi Library, and volunteers at the Machan cultural hub. 

"We have a workshop titled Chhobi Bondhu going on at Machan with school kids from Korail," she said. "We're mentoring about 30 children from different parts of the settlement so that after school, they can practice art."  

Even a film festival will be held in upcoming November with the help from Goethe-Institut, said Halima.  

Each of these youths manages a dozen roles at once, studying, working, volunteering, and still finds the time to keep art and learning alive in Korail. 

Thus Korail continues to exist in the middle of uncertainty; between threats of eviction and endless possibilities. It does not fit neatly into Dhaka's urban picture, but maybe that is what makes it what it is — a place constantly creating, rebuilding, and living on its own terms.