Navigating Dhaka's nomadic weekly market circuit
Across Dhaka, temporary markets appear and disappear throughout the week, shaping livelihoods, neighbourhood routines, and public life in a city with few spaces of its own
In our villages, people used to wait the whole week for the haat, or weekly market — the day when everything from spices and soap to stories from the neighbouring villages converged in one place.
Though that would be a misfit for Dhaka's fast-paced lifestyle, this communal practice has endured in the rapidly developing capital, albeit in a slightly different form, and only in certain corners of the city.
Whether driven by the pull of rural roots or the city's inability to accommodate small traders, various empty spots across the city — a playground one day, a roadside corner the next — suddenly fill with makeshift stalls, tarpaulin sheets, and piles of plastic toys.
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Some of these weekly markets have been running for generations; others popped up only recently. Either way, the crowds keep coming because the goods are affordable, the atmosphere feels familiar, or perhaps because Dhaka offers few other spaces where one can walk around without paying for the privilege.
Most sellers at these markets do not have fixed shops. Instead, they operate on a rotating circuit, moving from one location to another seven days a week. Wherever the market gathers that day, they set up; it is a nomadic business model. If they were forced to rent a permanent outlet, most would not survive a month.
These weekly markets provide the only viable spaces where they can trade without the burden of heavy rent or formal overheads. It is an informal system that has evolved over time — unorganised and unofficial, yet essential to the livelihoods of many low-income traders.
The weekly calendar
If you track these gatherings, you realise that these markets — or melas, as they are often called — follow a strict, self-governed calendar. Each day of the week belongs to a different neighbourhood.
Saturdays belong to Mohammadpur, with small markets scattered throughout the area and the largest stretching along Rayerbazar Tali Office Road. On Sundays, the circuit shifts the crowd to the Salimullah Road playground.
Mondays are more fragmented. While one fair sits on Zakir Hossain Road in Mohammadpur, the largest gathering takes place much further away, at Gausia Market in Bhulta, Rupganj. Most of Dhaka's weekly traders begin their week there, buying stock at wholesale rates before dispersing to their respective spots across the city for the rest of the week.
Tuesdays, the focus moves to Kamrangirchar, where the Section Bridge area transforms into a massive fair with over 300 stalls. On Wednesdays, the gathering shifts to Meradia in Banasree, arguably the largest and oldest of them all.
As the weekend approaches, the city breaks into small pockets of "holiday markets" — the Agargaon stretch, Mirpur Hope Market, and Motijheel. While they share a similar energy, each location has distinct features that set it apart.
Salimullah Road, Mohammadpur
On any given Sunday, the Salimullah Road playground — near the Panir Tanki water tower — does not look like a sports ground at all. By noon, it transforms into a full-blown fair. Sellers and buyers shout over one another, bargaining plays out loudly, and children navigate the crush clutching balloons, plastic toys, or their parents' hands.
Every direction offers something different: rows of cosmetics, jewellery, household items, wooden trinkets, and fabrics. If you arrive without a shopping list, you will likely end up buying more than those who came prepared.
Initially, the fair was managed by a local organising committee. Now, according to traders, local political figures largely oversee the grounds. Over a hundred shops spread across the field, each renting one or more "pitches".
Most sellers at these markets do not have fixed shops. Instead, they operate on a rotating circuit, moving from one location to another seven days a week. Wherever the market gathers that day, they set up; it is a nomadic business model. If they were forced to rent a permanent outlet, most would not survive a month.
Curtain seller Shamim Hasan has been part of this circuit long enough to know every inch of the ground. "I trade at seven different markets, seven days a week," he says. "Sales are good here. Quality items are available at low prices, and buyers benefit if they are willing to hunt for a bargain."
However, the cost of entry is significant. "For one pitch, we pay Tk800. My shop occupies four, so I pay Tk3,200 for a single day," he explains. "On top of that, we have to pay a separate group to clean the playground. It feels redundant to pay for maintenance and then pay again for cleaning."
It is a classic Dhaka paradox: no one is officially in charge, yet everyone collects rent. Still, the market persists because the demand is undeniable. It remains one of the few places where women from surrounding neighbourhoods can shop freely without the high prices of a mall or the logistical nightmare of crossing the city.
Agargaon: A holiday market
The market in Agargaon, located on ICT Road, has a slightly different character. It began as a formal initiative by the DNCC and the Oikko Foundation to support small and women-led businesses. It worked — but the formal model eventually buckled under its own costs.
Stall owners were originally asked to pay around Tk5,000 for just two days. To cover this, sellers had to increase their prices, which drove buyers away. The official project was eventually discontinued as the economics did not make sense for the traders it was meant to help.
But the market did not disappear; the sellers simply took over by themselves. One trader, Najmun Nahar, who sells batik sharis and cotton fabrics, notes that the offline stall provides her with the stability her online business sometimes lacks.
"I have been setting up a stall at this holiday market for years," she says. "People come from across the city just to stroll, so sales remain steady."
Now that the sellers operate the fair informally and without the heavy official rent, the market is thriving again. "Sales and profits are satisfactory now," she says. "But there is always an underlying fear of what happens after elections, when we expect we will have to start paying local political 'fees' again."
Meradia Haat
While the other markets feel like modern adaptations of rural life, Meradia Haat — near Banasree — is the real deal. It operates today much as it has for over a century, indifferent to the urban sprawl surrounding it.
Every Wednesday, the haat comes alive. Unlike the newer markets, Meradia's sellers do not have assigned stalls. They simply claim any free patch of ground, laying their wares on newspapers or tarpaulins.
The market is segmented by tradition: one stretch for bamboo products, another for textiles, and a long, sprawling row for fresh vegetables. Everything is noticeably cheaper than the nearby supermarkets, which is why the haat remains packed despite the modern malls nearby.
Nasima, a visitor from Mohakhali, compares kitchen utensils with practised care. "I enjoy wandering through here; it reminds me of the markets in my village," she says. "It's about more than just the low prices."
The crowd draws from far beyond the immediate vicinity, pulling in people from Rampura, Aftabnagar, Badda, Khilgaon, and even Rupganj. It is not merely convenience that brings them, but a deeper connection — a pull of nostalgia and century-old roots that refuse to fade, even in the heart of a megacity.
