In the bustling lanes of Old Dhaka, where centuries-old craftsmanship thrives, a darker reality unfolds beneath the clanging sounds of hammers and the hum of machinery. The traditional industries that have defined this area for generations—metalworking, leather crafting, bookbinding, and more—are built on the backs of children who should be in school, not toiling in smoky factories.
Amidst the thick dust and pungent smell of leather, at a small shoe factory in Kamrangirchar, one of the many industrial hotspots of Old Dhaka, a young boy no older than 14 can be seen working tirelessly at a workstation. His hands are skilled, but his eyes lack the carefree innocence of a child.
At his age, he should be learning in a classroom, but instead, he’s part of the growing phenomenon of child labour that feeds the city’s traditional industries. Like many others, he works long hours for minimal pay, with little hope of a future beyond the factory floor.
The price of tradition
Old Dhaka’s narrow, crowded streets still echo with the sounds of ancient trades, from the precision of metal craftsmen to the fine art of bookbinding. But these industries, once the pride of the city, are now a hotspot for exploitative child labour.
In the heart of Kamrangirchar, Farhad, 15, Nirab, 12, and Fuad, 14, work in a local shoe factory. Their families, originally from rural Noakhali, rely on the meagre wages these children bring home.
Farhad, who left school after grade 5, says he hasn’t seen a textbook in years. Instead, his world revolves around leather, needles, and the sharp sound of a hammer hitting metal.
“School? I don’t have time for that,” Farhad says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “If I don’t work, how will I send money home?”
This is a common theme in Old Dhaka’s industrial landscape: poverty drives children into jobs that deprive them of their childhood and education.
Children who should be playing, studying, and dreaming about the future are instead caught in the relentless grind of earning a living.
Why do children work?
The answer is simple: Poverty and pressing need to support the family. Across the city, in areas like Sutrapur, Banglabazar, Lalbagh, and Chawkbazar, children are embedded in various crafts.
From Mohammad Hasan, 13, in a bookbinding shop in Raisaheb Bazar, to Tuhin, 11, and Tushar, 12, working at a bakery in Lalbagh, children are being pulled from villages and rural areas in search of an income. Hasan, who lost both parents at a young age, has worked for two years to help support his siblings.
“I don’t have time to study. If I don’t work, I won’t be able to send money home,” Hasan explains.
The toll on health
The physical and mental toll on these children is severe. In cramped workshops, children inhale toxic fumes, deal with dangerous machinery, and endure the constant risk of injury.
Factories that deal in metalworking expose children to high temperatures, sharp tools, and toxic dust, while food factories put them at risk of burns and injury from open flames and hot oil. The lack of safety equipment in most of these factories only exacerbates the dangers.
