By late afternoon, Runa Begum was still moving through Shahbagh carrying trays of reshmi bangles across both arms. The morning had already passed between New Market, Nilkhet and the Dhaka University area, but sales remained slow. Every few minutes, she stopped near groups of students or women passing by, briefly lifting the bangles forward before continuing through the crowd. “If you stay in one place too long, nothing sells,” she said. “You have to keep walking.” For nearly six years, the streets of Dhaka have been her workplace.

Runa came to the city from Bhola after her husband passed away unexpectedly. Back in the village, there was little land left, no stable income and increasing debt. In Dhaka, selling bangles became one of the few forms of work she could begin immediately with limited savings and no formal education. Today, her earnings pay rent, buy groceries and help keep her two children in school.

Across different parts of Dhaka, women carrying boxes, baskets and trays of bangles move continuously between footpaths, roadside corners, university areas and local markets, trying to secure enough sales to survive. Some spend hours sitting near busy intersections waiting for customers. Others walk throughout the day through traffic, heat and crowds, selling reshmi, jelly and Kashmiri bangles to anyone willing to stop. For many of them, this is not occasional work or supplementary income. It is the primary source of survival for entire households. Behind the brightly coloured stacks of glass and plastic accessories is a wider system of informal labour managed largely by women carrying both economic and domestic responsibilities at the same time. Their earnings cover rent, food, transport, medicine and school expenses, while unpaid household labour continues before and after work.

For most women vendors, the working day begins long before they arrive on the streets. Household chores, cooking, cleaning and childcare are completed early in the morning before they leave home carrying bags full of products. After returning at night, domestic responsibilities begin again.

Several women selling bangles around Shahbagh, Mohammadpur, Nilkhet and Dhaka University explained that most products are collected from wholesale markets in Chowkbazar, where prices remain comparatively lower. Small differences in wholesale costs matter significantly for women surviving on narrow daily profits. “If we buy from other places, there’s almost nothing left after transport and expenses,” one seller explained while arranging stacks of coloured bangles near Nilkhet.

Others rely on personal suppliers who provide products on credit. Payments are often made after sales, allowing women with limited capital to continue working through informal systems of trust and negotiation.

The business itself requires careful observation. Sellers know which colours become popular before Eid, which designs attract university students and which products sell more during wedding seasons. According to several vendors, reshmi and jelly bangles remain among the highest-selling items, particularly among younger customers. A poor purchasing decision can mean losing an entire day’s earnings.

Most customers only see the final product displayed on trays or boxes. Less visible is the labour behind it: travelling to crowded wholesale markets, carrying heavy products across the city, negotiating with customers, calculating profits and navigating public spaces where women workers often remain vulnerable to harassment.

For many low-income women, migration into Dhaka reflects a wider pattern of rural economic insecurity. Several vendors described leaving villages after river erosion damaged homes, agricultural income collapsed or family debt became impossible to manage.

Halima moved to Dhaka from Shariatpur after being abandoned by her husband. Shahida came from Sirajganj after her husband became paralysed and could no longer work as a rickshaw driver. For many women, migration was not about opportunity. It was about finding any available form of income before survival became impossible.

Once in the city, the informal economy became one of the few spaces where women with limited education and little financial support could begin earning immediately. Selling bangles requires relatively small capital compared to many other forms of business. But while entry into the work may be easier, survival within it is far more difficult. Income remains unstable and heavily dependent on weather, customer movement and seasonal demand. During Eid, Pohela Boishakh and wedding periods, sales increase significantly. On ordinary days, however, many women struggle to earn enough after deducting wholesale costs, transport fares and food expenses.

Their earnings vary significantly. Based on conversations with multiple sellers, monthly income generally falls between 5,000 and 12,000 taka, depending on location, season, weather and demand. On a normal day, some women report earning around 400 to 1,200 taka, but this amount can drop sharply during rain, transport disruptions, political shutdowns or simply on days with low foot traffic. There is no fixed salary, no guaranteed return and no safety net. Income depends entirely on whether the day allows business or not.

Several women described constant pressure while working in public spaces. Some spoke about verbal harassment from men, pressure from local authorities and difficulties moving safely through crowded wholesale markets while carrying products and cash. “People think because we work on the streets they can say anything,” one woman pointed out.

Another seller described regularly travelling alone to Chowkbazar early in the morning to purchase products. “You always stay alert,” she said. “If there’s a problem outside, nobody helps.”

For women working alone, mobility itself becomes labour. Reaching wholesale markets, crossing roads, carrying products on public transport such as buses and walking across the city all form part of the workday. Yet for many women, the burden of work does not end once they return home.

One vendor mentioned that although her husband is physically capable of working, most financial responsibility still falls on her. “I earn the money,” she said. “But when sales go down, I still have to hear complaints from my husband.”

Others described struggling to balance childcare with work. Some women bring young children with them because there is nobody available to supervise them at home. One mother selling bangles near New Market said her daughter often spends the day sitting beside her while she works. “I cannot leave her alone in the room,” she explained. “I keep worrying about her safety, so she stays with me, in front of my eyes.”

In some areas, such as Shahbagh and near Dhaka University, children can also be seen helping through small informal sales activities such as selling flowers while their mothers continue working. For many families, the footpath becomes both a workplace and a caregiving space at the same time.

Despite severe financial pressure, many women continue prioritising their children’s education. Several said they do not want their sons or daughters to enter the same cycle of unstable labour and economic insecurity. One woman explained that even during weeks of poor sales, school expenses remain unavoidable. “School fees don’t wait,” she said. “Books don’t wait either.”

Many of the women themselves received little formal education. Some left school after primary level because of poverty or early marriage. Others never attended school at all. Yet despite their own educational deprivation, they continue investing significant portions of their earnings into their children’s futures. One vendor said that she often reduces her own food expenses before cutting educational costs for her daughter. “If my daughter can continue studying,” she said, “maybe her life will not become like mine.”

Housing conditions remain another major concern. A few vendors live in congested settlements where bathrooms and kitchens are shared among multiple families. Rising rent, water shortages and lack of privacy remain part of everyday life.

One woman described living with five family members inside a single rented room used simultaneously as a bedroom, kitchen and storage space. “There’s barely space to move,” she added. “But rent still keeps increasing.” Healthcare also remains largely inaccessible. Most women rely on medicine from local pharmacies instead of formal treatment because clinic fees and medical tests are often unaffordable. Long hours spent carrying products and walking through the city create physical exhaustion, particularly for women already dealing with poor nutrition and unstable living conditions. Still, many continue working through illness because losing even a single day’s income can affect household survival.

Alongside these long-time vendors, another smaller shift has become visible around university areas and online platforms. Some younger women and university students have started selling handmade fabric-wrapped bangles through Facebook pages and small online businesses.

For them, online selling may offer flexibility or additional income. For older street vendors, however, selling bangles remains directly tied to daily survival. Business failure for them does not simply mean reduced profit. It can mean unpaid rent, missed meals or children leaving school. Yet several traditional vendors did not speak about younger sellers with resentment. “At least girls are trying to earn for themselves,” one woman said while arranging bangles near TSC. “Everybody’s trying to survive somehow.”

The statement reflects something larger about the city itself. Across different class positions and generations, increasing numbers of women are attempting to create financial independence through small-scale business within an economy where stable employment opportunities remain limited.

Despite difficult conditions, female bangle sellers continue demonstrating considerable adaptability and business knowledge. They understand customer movement, seasonal demand, pricing strategies and product trends. They know which areas become crowded during certain hours and which products attract different groups of buyers. Their work requires far more than simply selling accessories. It involves mobility, negotiation, observation, financial management and emotional endurance under highly unstable conditions.

Yet despite the essential role they play within the city’s informal economy, their labour remains largely unrecognised and unprotected. Every day, they return to the busy streets not because the work is easy or stable, but because entire households continue to depend on it. Behind the bright colours of the bangles they carry is a form of labour shaped by endurance, uncertainty and the continuous effort to hold families together in an unforgiving city.

Musrat Hossain Mithila works at the Slow Reads, The Daily Star. She can be reached at [email protected].

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