Once upon a time in Dhaka, our Paras were our worlds

In Azimpur, Alauddin Gazi, 45, remembers the Choto Bhat Jame Masjid area with a smile. 

"This was our playground," he said. "I learned cricket here with a taped up tennis ball. If it fell in the drain, nobody wanted to retrieve it. However, at the end someone had to pick the ball up." 

"The teenagers played football while the grown-ups watched. The whole para [neighbourhood] knew who played well. During cricket, if someone hit a six that broke a shop's window, we ran together to hide," he recalls. 

"Now most children stay inside. Their world is different. They don't know the joy of para unity," he adds.

That sense of belonging, once woven into every lane, every courtyard, and every rooftop, has become harder to find in Dhaka today. People who grew up in the city in the '80s and '90s say it used to feel closer — not cleaner or quieter, but warmer in the way strangers could become brothers over a cricket match and in the way an entire lane would gather when a child fell sick or when a boy scored a goal in a local tournament. 

"The word 'para' meant something deeper than geography. It meant belonging. It meant safety. It meant community. Today, that warmth survives mostly in stories told by those who once lived it," says Gazi.

Dhaka today is much different. According to a 2025 report from the United Nations, the capital now houses around 36.6 million people — nearly double the population of 25 years ago. As the population exploded, the city lost much of its open space. 

A survey by Rajdhani Unnayan Kartripakkha shows the number of public playgrounds and open fields in Dhaka fell dramatically — from about 150 two decades ago to only 24 today. Experts say the shortage is even more stark: to meet planning standards the city now lacks roughly 795 playgrounds. This squeeze on space has left little room for communal sports, outdoor gatherings or shared childhood games — the very things that once bound a neighbourhood together.

The city has also suffered a sharp decline in green spaces and accessible public areas. Once common lawns, courtyards and fields where children played or neighbours gathered are now concrete buildings, narrow lanes and commercial spaces. In many wards, there is no safe playground or park — depriving children and even adults to meet or engage in regular exercise. 

The result is a city that may be larger, denser and more modern, but one where para life, with its spontaneous games, evening adda, shared celebrations and neighbourly trust has become harder to find.

During the political upheaval of 2024, that old para spirit briefly returned. After Sheikh Hasina's government fell, and with the police absent from the streets, rumours of robberies spread. 

In Uttara, Azimpur, Gulshan, Dhanmondi, Mohammadpur, and parts of Old Dhaka, residents stayed awake through the night to protect their areas. Young and middle-aged people walked the lanes, checking on shops, calling out to each other and ensuring no house was left unprotected. 

For a few nights, strangers talked again, shared stories over tea and remembered what it felt like to trust the people living beside them. Fear lingered but so did a brief reminder of a Dhaka that once looked after its own.

Shahriar Hossain, a 22-year-old resident from Mohammadia Housing Society in Mohammadpur, says the nights after the government's fall felt strangely different. 

"I've lived here for so long, but I only knew the shopkeepers — the guy at the pharmacy, the grocer, the tea stall owner. I never knew a single neighbour. But when we stayed up at night to guard the area, I finally met people my age from the adjacent buildings. We talked, added each other on social media. It felt like, for the first time, this place wasn't just where I lived — it was a para," he adds.

In Old Dhaka's Chawk Bazar, the narrow lanes still smell of spices, kebabs, and old city history, but the soundscape has changed. 

Maqsud Iqbal, 41, who runs a grocery shop, remembers a time in the late 1990s when the neighbourhood lived like a joint family. "During winter, there were musical programmes, even jatra and play. When the electricity went out, we used lanterns. We also used to play badminton every winter," he laughs. "We knew everyone. Now people live here on their very own."

In Mohammadpur's Salimullah Road, memories of youth still linger in whispers of laughter and cheers. 

Mazharul Huq Rafi, 30, now a professional graphic designer, recalls the days of the Sunrise Boys Football Club. 

"Uncles from the para pooled money for our jerseys. The whole block would spill onto the streets to watch us play. We learned about friendship," he says, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Now a developer owns the land. My little brother has never kicked a proper ball outside. Panir Tank Field and Mohammadpur Eidgah Field in Tajmahal Road are the only options in this area but it's so packed, it feels more like a market than a football ground."

In Dhanmondi, transformation brought prosperity but weakened community life. 

Parveen Hossain, 53, recalls Eid mornings when children knocked on doors with baskets, collecting sweets or money. 

"Hindu families organised their Pujas and Muslim families joined. There was no question of who belonged," she says. "This generation may have comfort, but not the community."

Once alive with evening adda, food stalls and football or cricket tournaments, the city bears the marks of change. 

Arifa Rahman, 27, who grew up in Dhanmondi's Shankar area, recalls those evenings vividly. 

"Back then, load shedding was common, especially after sunset. We knew it would last an hour, sometimes more. As soon as the lights went out, my friends, my mother, aunts — we all came outside. We'd gossip, play and just be together. Now there's no load shedding, and with it, no reason to gather. No shared moments. No bonding," she says.

For many, the disappearance of para culture feels like the loss of childhood itself. Evening adda on verandas has turned into silent nights indoors. Neighbours who once shared meals barely know each other's names. Rituals that defined Dhaka — rooftop cricket, homemade sweets on Eid, winter jatra, football and cricket tournaments — have slowly vanished. With each open field turned into concrete, another memory becomes harder to revisit.

The changes in Dhaka's para culture are intertwined with the city's rapid growth. Apartment complexes have replaced open fields. Traffic and commercialisation have narrowed lanes. Coaching centres and cafes have overtaken public spaces. Children no longer run freely, and privacy and convenience often outweigh neighbourly closeness. Yet, those who grew up in the city's older para system remember a time when community was woven into every interaction.

Beyond individual memories, researchers have also studied how Dhaka's urban culture has changed over time.

A 2015 study by the Department of Sociology at the University of Dhaka, titled "Changing Urban Culture: A Study of the Old City in Dhaka", examined how modernisation and globalisation have transformed the social and cultural life of the city. Based on 104 surveys and 16 in-depth interviews, the study highlighted that while daily lifestyles, technology use and family structures are evolving, much of the traditional social fabric remains intact. 

The study finds younger residents increasingly adopt Western consumption habits, fashion trends and modern devices in their homes, while nuclear families are replacing the once-dominant joint family system. Women, in particular, are navigating a blend of traditional and modern styles, altering their dress, hairstyles and approach to personal grooming. 

Although the research reflects conditions from 2015, many of the trends it identified — declining open spaces, changing family structures and a gradual shift in lifestyles — have intensified in recent years, lending context to the contemporary experiences and memories of Dhaka's residents described here. 

The study also noted that modernisation and globalisation have affected not only daily routines but also the way younger generations perceive and interact with their communities, contributing to the gradual erosion of the traditional para life.