Ten-year-old Araf, a student from Mohammadpur, stood before a local community meeting and spoke the truth many adults had ignored for too long.
“We have no place to run, to play, or even to breathe freely. All we see are buildings and cars. We need parks, we need space,” he said years back.
His words echoed across social media, capturing the hearts of thousands.
Parents, teachers and urban planners joined the chorus, lamenting the vanishing open spaces in a city of more than 20 million souls, where concrete triumphs over greenery.
Urban experts remind us that the World Health Organization recommends at least 9 square meters of green space per person.
Dhaka can offer barely a third of that. The city's children grow up in the shadow of high-rises, their lungs filled with fumes, their ears numbed by the endless blare of traffic.
“This is not just about leisure,” said Dr Samina Rahman, a public health specialist at Dhaka University.
“Lack of access to open spaces contributes to a rise in childhood obesity, mental stress, and developmental issues,” she said.
The laughter that once spilled from playgrounds and alleyways has faded.
In its place stands a dense jungle of cement and steel. Where once children built forts from sticks and imagined castles in the dust, they are now confined within four walls, under the weight of screens and study schedules.
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Dhaka's open fields and playgrounds have withered from around 150 to just 24 in twenty years.
Recess in schools is shrinking. After classes, children tumble into traffic or tuition, seldom into games.
Experts see this as more than a loss of play. It is the erasure of imagination.
“Play is not just fun — it is how children make sense of the world,” said Dr Nusrat Jahan, a child development expert based in Dhaka.
“Imaginative play sparks creativity, builds problem-solving skills, and develops social understanding. Without it, cognitive and emotional growth is stunted,” she said.
The toll on the body matches that on the mind.
The World Health Organization urges at least an hour of physical activity a day for children. Few in Dhaka meet that mark. Obesity rises, as do postural issues, poor sleep, and even early signs of diabetes and hypertension.
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The burden of exams, the glare of screens, the absence of nature — all add to a quiet mental storm. Anxiety, attention disorders, and depression are now childhood companions.
“Urban children are under silent stress,” said Dr Tahmid Rahman, a paediatrician at a private hospital in Dhaka. “They may not say it out loud, but they are missing something essential — free movement, social bonding, and unstructured play.”
Screens fill the void where trees once stood. A 2023 local survey found that children aged 6 to 12 in Dhaka spend around 5 hours daily on screens. That is far beyond recommended limits.
Digital devices have replaced crayons, storybooks, and cardboard castles. Attention spans shrink, curiosity dims, and creativity falters under a barrage of passive content.
In the face of this, calls grow louder. Urban planners, educators, and parents plead for bold steps — the reclaiming of public land, the greening of schoolyards, the designing of safe, shared spaces for children to simply be children.
“Building cities without children in mind is a recipe for long-term social and emotional problems,” said architect and urban designer Rafiq Hasan. “We need to design not just buildings, but lives — with parks, walkways, libraries, and safe play zones.”
Some local sparks have flickered into life — rooftop play corners, mobile libraries, weekend pop-up parks. Yet they remain isolated efforts in a citywide maze of neglect.
Still, experts speak of hope. “Children are incredibly resilient,” said Dr Nusrat. “If we can give them even a little space, time, and encouragement, their creativity and health will return. But the city must make room — literally and figuratively — for its youngest citizens.”
For Ayushi, a 10-year-old from Mirpur, dreams are not extravagant. “I want to ride a bike, draw pictures, and play cricket. I want to be happy, not just busy.”
vanishing parks, rising gangs: the unseen cost of a stolen childhood
Once Dhaka's streets rang with the joy of children's games. Today, those same lanes echo with tension. A darker reality has crept in. The rise of adolescent gangs tells a sobering tale — of youth left idle, disillusioned, and disconnected.
In cramped homes and crowded schools, the city's teenagers find little escape. With playgrounds paved over, and sports fields lost to construction, they turn elsewhere — often to gangs.
Neighbourhoods like Mohammadpur, Mirpur, and Kamalapur have seen the emergence of adolescent groups bonded by boredom and bravado. These gangs, born from a hunger for belonging, often drift into theft, drug use, and violence.
Concrete has not just replaced grass; it has crushed opportunity. Dhaka's playground count has plummeted from over 150 to just 24. Teenagers left adrift by school systems and family pressures find a dangerous kind of structure on the streets.
The statistics are chilling. A 2024 report by the Dhaka Metropolitan Police paints a bleak picture. Crimes involving adolescents aged 12 to 18 have surged by 35% in five years. Gang-related violence alone has crossed 500 reported cases — a 25% jump from last year.
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Petty theft, assaults, and robberies are on the rise. In just six months of 2024, 250 such incidents have been tied to adolescent gangs.
Beneath the surface runs another poison — drugs. Methamphetamine and heroin are finding their way into young hands. According to the Narcotics Control Board, 40% of all drug-related arrests in Dhaka in 2023 involved minors.
The numbers speak, but so do the silences — of lost dreams, of restless evenings, of youth that should have been dancing under open skies, not ducking through alleyways.
In a city of relentless ambition, its children have become afterthoughts. And yet, as Araf and Ayushi remind us — their dreams remain simple, their needs sincere. Parks, friendships, fresh air. Not too much to ask.
Until Dhaka listens, its children will keep calling out — in community meetings, in whispered hopes, and sometimes, in rebellion.