It is a quarter to eleven at night, and Yuzu restaurant in Dhanmondi is packed to the rafters. Zahurul Alam, his wife, and their two children sit huddled around a circular table positioned perfectly in front of a glowing giant screen. The younger child sports a sky-blue Argentina jersey, whilst the older one is happily distracted by a plate of chips.
“If I try to screen the matches at home, the children invariably fall asleep,” Zahurul whispers over the din of the crowd. “Bringing them here keeps them wide awake, buzzing with the excitement of everyone around them.”
For his kids, this is likely the first World Cup that will stick in their memories. For Zahurul, this late-night excursion is less about tactical football and more about forging a lasting family memory.
The very fabric of Dhaka’s nightlife has shifted, transformed by thousands of nocturnal enthusiasts like Zahurul’s family. Because this World Cup is co-hosted across the Atlantic by the United States, Canada, and Mexico, the ten-to-twelve-hour time difference means kick-offs land squarely between midnight and dawn in Bangladesh.
Group stage fixtures routinely broadcast until 4:00am, whilst high-stakes knockout matches run until the 6:00am morning call to prayer.
This upside-down schedule has sparked an unprecedented boom in the capital’s hospitality sector. Fast-food joints, burger bars, and coffee shops are capitalising heavily, rolling out dedicated ‘watch parties’, ‘match-night packages’, and bespoke ‘midnight menus’.
For fans staying up at home, online food delivery apps are fighting a parallel war of discounts, dropping team-specific vouchers the moment a goal scores.
“Our venue operates strictly on a reservation basis for the games now,” says Habibur Rahman, the manager of Yuzu. “A recent Brazil match saw us reach near-total capacity. When the giant teams play, the demand is simply staggering.”
A few kilometres away at Smashed Burgers in Gulshan, the scene is identical. Mohammad Parvez, the company’s HR officer, uses social media to announce which fixtures will be screened. “Securing a table on big match days is incredibly difficult without arriving well in advance,” he says, gesturing to an eclectic mix of families, university friends, and colleagues sitting shoulder-to-shoulder.
Meanwhile, in Banani, hubs like Arabica Cafe and Blaine Cafe have simply thrown away the keys, keeping their doors open continuously until the early hours of the morning.
This seamless, city-wide viewing experience was initially hamstrung by broadcasting rights complications. However, a timely government initiative paved the way for three television channels, including the state-run BTV, to secure live terrestrial rights.
Coupled with digital streaming on local apps like Toffee, Bioscope, and My Robi, any business with a projector and an internet connection has transformed into a mini-stadium.
On paper, Bangladesh’s obsession makes little sense. The national team languishes at 181st in the FIFA world rankings, and the dream of direct World Cup qualification remains a distant prospect.
Yet, every four years, this South Asian nation morphs into one of the most fiercely passionate footballing hubs on earth.
The epicentre of this fanatical devotion is the Teacher-Student Centre (TSC) at Dhaka University. Whenever Argentina or Brazil take to the pitch, the entire precinct is carpeted in a vibrant sea of sky-blue-and-white or yellow-and-green.
It is a carnival atmosphere where thousands of campus students, local families, and fans from the farthest corners of the capital descend to scream at massive, open-air screens.
The global impact of this distant passion has not gone unnoticed. On the historic night Lionel Messi broke the record for the highest World Cup goalscorer, the Argentine Ambassador to Bangladesh joined the students at Dhaka University’s Haji Muhsin Hall. Deeply moved by the deafening roars, the ambassador later remarked that the electric atmosphere made him feel as though he were standing in the heart of Buenos Aires.
The festive madness has permeated every layer of society. At Daffodil International University, a public screening drew thousands of spectators to a colossal screen, producing a viral video that caught the eye of Brazilian superstar Neymar, who publicly gave it a “like”.
In Old Dhaka, a narrow street in Swamibagh has been affectionately dubbed ‘FIFA Street’, its brick walls completely transformed by vibrant murals of the world’s finest footballers and the flags of competing nations.
Beyond the trendy, air-conditioned restaurants of the affluent neighbourhoods, the exact same camaraderie thrives in the modest, open-air tea stalls lining the historic alleys of the old city. Young and old huddle around flickering television sets perched on wooden benches, sipping sweet condensed-milk tea.
Whether tucked away in a sleek Gulshan cafe or standing in the humid, open-air courtyard of the TSC, the collective human experience remains identical. Here, the World Cup transcends sport; it is a cultural catalyst to gather, to shout, and to escape.
As the night deepens, these vibrant, sleepless gatherings across Dhaka serve as a poignant reminder that while the physical tournament plays out thousands of miles away, its fiery spirit burns brightest on the banks of the Buriganga.
