Dhaka’s residential heritage faces extinction under the shadow of high-rises
Dhaka is losing its low-rise residential heritage at an unprecedented pace. What is disappearing with it is a way of living shaped by courtyards, verandas and extended families
After the partition in the 1950s, Molla Mohammad Moslem Ali purchased a house on a 20-katha land from the then zamindar, Nitya Lal Das, in Old Dhaka's Rupchan Lane under the Sutrapur area. During the Pakistan period, he served as a Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA).
Molla passed away in 1961 and his seven children inherited the house. Among them, the late Molla Mohsinul Islam laid down deeper roots here with his family. And now his son, Molla Mamunul Islam, lives in the same house with his mother and an extended family — within walls slowly surrendering to time.
The house breathes age, with exposed reddish-yellow bricks, patched-up windows, and wobbly wooden doors. Even the present inhabitants are unsure of the exact age of the structure. It still stands as one of the notable zamindar-style residences in Sutrapur.
Mamunul steps into the inner courtyard and agrees to talk with his mother's permission. His mother soon retreats for her siesta, while children scatter across the yard in play. Pausing to sift through distant memories, Mamunul says, "This is my ancestral home. Even with other sharers of the property, I cannot imagine leaving this place or building a new one."
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Urban historians and planners say Dhaka is losing its low-rise residential heritage at an unprecedented pace. Homes built during the British colonial period and between the 1950s and 1970s — once defining the city's domestic architecture — are being replaced by vertical concrete blocks. What disappears with them is a way of living shaped by courtyards, verandas and extended families.
However, a handful of owners continue to hold on, refusing to alter what time has shaped.
Currently, a few of the present generation owners are living in these houses while many live abroad or elsewhere in the country renting them out. For many, old aesthetics, memories, and the willingness to protect their ancestral legacy remain the strongest reasons to hold on. After spending ages, they still dream of swaying on the same verandas, of walking to the same courtyards, of belonging to the same walls. That is why they do not wish to demolish these houses. Nor do they dream of moving into modern ones.
In Wari's Larmini Street, stands Muntashsha Villa, a British period duplex house that comes with a gigantic front yard and old mango trees, distinct from the surrounding households.
"We have been living here for 80 years; my ancestors came here during the Pakistan period," said the owner of Muntashsha Villa, who asked not to be named. "At this age, it is convenient to live in a 3,000-square-foot flat, but we still find authenticity and peace living here."
In Old Dhaka, the narrow alleys of Sutrapur, Gendaria, Laxmibazar, Shakhari Bazar, Wari, Narinda, Forashganj, Koltabazar, and Northbrook Hall Road still echo with fragments of the city's layered histories and old urban landscapes.
Moving northwards from Old Dhaka, old houses can still be found in neighbourhoods such as Dhanmondi, Mohammadpur, Malibagh, Moghbazar, Shantinagar, Eskaton and the Banani–Gulshan area, though increasingly as isolated survivors among glass towers and concrete high-rises. Many of these houses were built between the 1960s and 1980s, when these areas were planned as low-rise residential zones.
Sculpted in time and memory
Three years ago, Manik Bhuiyan's (pseudonym) mother died in their 60-year-old house in Dhanmondi. Manik, the only son, was living with his mother during her final days. His two elder sisters live in the US.
The duplex house, built in the 1970s, features East Asian interiors and a vintage exterior, including a large lawn and three decades-old mango trees in front. The interior is filled with antique elements — gates, stairs, furniture, murals, paintings, and decorative pieces throughout the house. The living rooms are empty, the bathrooms are dry, and the window curtains are covered in spider webs.
Manik looked sad as he said, "Suddenly, everything fell apart when my mom died. Everything you see reminds me of the time when everyone was here."
Now he decided to live alone in the house, accompanied by a servant and a driver, though his sisters are trying to convince him so that they can hand it over to developers and make an apartment building.
"I think I could not leave this house, at least for now. When I think of leaving it, my heart aches," said Manik.
Residents in several areas claim that they regularly receive visitors at their gates. "Mainly, they are from the developer companies. Almost every day, I have to refuse these people and tell them that we have no plan to build an apartment building," said the owner of Sneho Nir in Rayerbazar.
"Sometimes, handing over their land to a developer and sacrificing their old house is not an emotional decision, rather an economic one. The next generation of most of the original property holders no longer live in Bangladesh, or they find no emotional attachment with their homes and rent them out. They think, 'Why keep it empty? Why not give it to a developer, earn revenue and divide the apartments among siblings'."
Meanwhile, many old houses are still standing in Banani Model Town. Across the area, there are at least 50 houses that were built during the 1970s, or even before. Among the multi-storied modern architectures and commercial skyscrapers, these homes still preserve memories – nostalgic smells of the household, plays of light and shadows, and the ever-growing old bougainvillea trees.
The story of the Mowla Box resident echoes the same energy. Late Kazi Mowla Box and his wife, Rasheda Khatun, purchased a five-katha plot in Banani in 1972, spending only Tk16,000. They later built a duplex home. Rasida said, "When we came here, there were only a few houses. We built this house little by little in the next three years."
Today, Rasheda lives with one of his sons. Her two other sons live in Australia, and her only daughter is married. "I am doing well living here in my old house. My other sons visit me several times a year," said Rasheda.
"As long as my mother is alive, we don't have any plan to build anything new," said Rasheda's younger son, Liton.
Examples of disputes among the inheritors are also found across areas. On road no. 17 of the Banani residential area, a signboard indicates there is a dispute between a brother and a sister over their inherited home.
The signboard says, "If my brother tries to hand over the property to the developers or tries to demolish it to make a new one, I will be obliged to file a case against my brother."
Extinction begins when emotions end
In the backdrop of protecting old houses like sculptures, preserving memories, and the ancestral legacies, some present-day owners consider it from an economic perspective, keeping aside the emotional attachment.
Across the city, you will see old houses being demolished to build a multi-storied flat system housing. Land owners and construction developer companies make contracts and negotiate on the plan, sign agreements, and receive cash payments before initiating construction.
"This trend began across the city after 1991, when Bangladesh entered a more open, free-market economy, with the fall of the Ershad regime. From then, landowners realised they could generate revenue by building apartments on their plots," said urban planner Iqbal Habib.
He noted that sometimes, handing over their land to a developer and sacrificing their old house is not an emotional decision, but rather an economic one.
Architect Omar Hossain said, "Giving land to a developer usually means a sharing arrangement." "For example, under a 50-50 ratio, if a building has 10 apartments, the developer gets five, and the landowner gets five."
There is also an underlying factor behind this decision, as Habib continues, "The next generation of most of the original property holders no longer live in Bangladesh, or they find no emotional attachment with their homes and rent them out."
"They think: why keep it empty? Why not give it to a developer, earn revenue, and divide apartments among siblings," he added.
As mentioned earlier, many of the current generation owners live abroad. Some rent out their old houses to businesses such as restaurants, clothing outlets, and beauty salons. Business owners say that renting these old houses and renovating the interiors and exteriors help them to come up with a vintage and old-style outlook that attracts a wide range of visitors and customers.
