EVERY Ramadan, a familiar ritual unfolds in Bangladesh’s television studios and public discussions. Economists, business leaders, political figures and policy analysts gather to talk about inflation, market volatility and the broader direction of the economy. The questions are predictable: how severe are the price hikes, how are markets performing and how are people coping? The answers usually come in percentages — headline inflation, supply disruptions, exchange-rate pressures and import costs. The conversation sounds measured, technical and data-driven. Yet beneath this familiar ritual lies a quieter question: whom are we actually asking?
We ask about public transport to someone who arrived in a private car. We ask about scorching heat to someone who stepped out of an air-conditioned vehicle into an air-conditioned studio. We ask about rising food prices to someone who does not personally stand in the market queue. This is not an argument against expertise; economists and analysts are necessary voices in any serious economic discussion. But there remains a clear distance between speaking about inflation and living through it. That distance inevitably shapes how problems are framed and how solutions are imagined.
Within the first week of Ramadan this year, reports showed noticeable increases in the prices of several essential commodities — lemons, dates, edible oil, vegetables and various protein items. Seasonal volatility during Ramadan is not new, but it now unfolds against the backdrop of persistent cost-of-living pressure. Non-food inflation remains high, while expenses for utilities, transport, rent and education continue to weigh heavily on urban households. Inflation may appear in reports as a macroeconomic indicator, but for most families it is experienced as shrinking choices.
A mother standing in a neighbourhood market does not calculate inflation in percentage points. She calculates trade-offs. If she buys beef today, can she still afford fruit for iftar? If the price of dates doubles, should she reduce the quantity? If gas pressure drops in the afternoon, can she finish cooking before sunset? Inflation in everyday life is less about abstract trends than about daily compromises.
In public discussions, the conversation soon shifts from inflation to reform. What structural changes are needed? Which institutions must be strengthened? What priorities should guide economic policy? Yet even this conversation is often dominated by those whose personal lives remain relatively stable. Their children’s education is secure, their salaries arrive on time, their transport is safe and their access to nutritious food is not in doubt. They discuss reform from within what might be called a zone of stability — a space insulated from immediate economic shocks.
For many citizens, however, reform is not an intellectual project. Survival is. The lower-middle-income family worries about whether their salary will arrive before rent is due. Informal workers worry about daily earnings. A garment worker calculates whether overtime will be enough to offset rising food prices. Parents worry if their child is five minutes late returning home, because economic vulnerability often intersects with concerns about safety. When everyday life is structured around uncertainty, long-term institutional reform can feel distant from immediate reality.
This creates a gap in representation within public economic discourse. Inflation is often explained as cyclical or externally driven — global commodity prices, currency depreciation or supply disruptions. These factors are real, but the decisive issue is how they translate into domestic retail markets and household budgets. A modest increase in aggregate inflation may appear manageable in macroeconomic terms. But when wages remain stagnant, the cumulative effect steadily erodes purchasing power.
The urban lower-middle class is particularly vulnerable. They are not poor enough to benefit from targeted safety nets, yet not affluent enough to absorb price shocks comfortably. Their consumption basket is rigid: rent, transport, utilities, education and food. When the prices of essentials rise, something else must fall. Often it is nutrition quality, healthcare spending or savings.
Persistent inflation does more than reduce purchasing power; it gradually erodes confidence. Trust in markets weakens when essential prices spike repeatedly. Trust in oversight mechanisms declines when consumers feel that retail markets remain volatile despite policy assurances. During Ramadan, when social expectations around hospitality and shared meals intensify, these pressures become even more visible. What should be a month of reflection becomes, for many families, a month of careful calculation.
Bangladesh’s economic discourse therefore risks becoming increasingly elite-centred. Economists explain trends, business leaders discuss import pipelines and political actors frame narratives of stability or crisis. Yet how often do we systematically hear from those who stand in the market queue before iftar — the rickshaw puller, the schoolteacher, the small shop employee or the factory worker? Their experiences are not anecdotal interruptions to the data. They are data. They reveal how inflation distributes its burden across society.
If reform is to be meaningful, it must begin with recognising this distributional reality. Controlling inflation is not merely a macroeconomic stabilisation objective; it is also a matter of social stability. Monitoring retail markets must matter as much as managing import flows. Policy success should not be judged solely by inflation trends in official reports, but also by whether households feel marginally less squeezed at the vegetable stall.
Ultimately, the most important question is not simply whether the economy is growing or stabilising. It is who the economy is working for. If growth indicators improve while households feel increasingly constrained, a gap emerges between macroeconomic success and everyday experience.
Bangladesh has demonstrated resilience in difficult times before. But resilience cannot remain a permanent substitute for relief. Economic policy discussions cannot remain confined to studio debates. They must return to the marketplace — where inflation is not a statistic but a lived reality, and where reform is not an abstract ambition but a daily necessity.
Suborna Akther Laboni is a research assistant at the Dacca Institute of Research and Analytics (DAIRA).
