Op-Ed by M. Rahman, PhD
Adviser, Dhaka Straits Times
Every morning when I step outside my home in Dhaka, the air feels heavy—almost visible. It clings to the skin, burns the eyes, and settles deep in the lungs. Many of us have accepted it as normal. But it isn’t. The truth is painful: Dhaka’s air is slowly poisoning its people.
According to recent data published by The Business Standard, Bangladesh recorded an average PM2.5 concentration of 78 micrograms per cubic meter in 2024—fifteen times higher than the World Health Organization’s safe limit. In the last nine years, Dhaka residents enjoyed only 31 days of clean air. Thirty-one days out of 3,285.
These are not just statistics; they are stories of coughing children, asthma patients rushing to hospitals, and workers gasping through 12-hour shifts on construction sites. Dr. Ahmad Kamruzzaman Majumder of the Center for Atmospheric Pollution Studies (CAPS) summed it up starkly: “Dhaka has faced unhealthy air for more than 1,500 days in less than a decade. That’s not pollution anymore—it’s a public health emergency.”
Dhaka’s pollution is man-made, not inevitable. We are choking on a mix of vehicle emissions, brick kiln smoke, construction dust, and waste burning. Thousands of outdated diesel buses and trucks release black smoke every minute. Dust clouds rise from endless road work and unregulated construction. The air is trapped between concrete walls and tangled power lines, with barely a tree to filter it.
The irony is that the very activities meant to build the city are also slowly dismantling the health of its people.
In winter, the problem worsens. The dry season locks pollutants close to the ground, and the city becomes a grey haze. On some mornings, Dhaka’s Air Quality Index (AQI) crosses 200, a level considered “very unhealthy.” At that point, stepping outside is like smoking ten cigarettes a day—without a choice.
The damage goes far beyond coughing fits. The World Bank and ICDDRB have both linked air pollution to thousands of premature deaths in Bangladesh each year. Doctors at Dhaka Medical College report rising cases of respiratory infections, asthma, and even cardiac complications triggered by dirty air.
The economic cost is equally devastating. The Centre for Policy Dialogue (CPD) estimates billions lost in productivity every year as workers fall sick or commute less. “Pollution is not just an environmental issue—it’s an economic one,” an economist recently told me. “Every breath of dirty air slows us down as a nation.”
Even daily life has changed. Children are kept indoors. Joggers wear masks. Families avoid outdoor gatherings. It’s heartbreaking that in a city full of energy, the simplest act—breathing—is dangerous.
It’s easy to point fingers, but harder to act. Yet, solutions exist if we have the will:
- Clean up the vehicles. Replace old diesel buses and trucks with cleaner, efficient models. Incentivize electric transport and better traffic control.
- Crack down on brick kilns. Many operate illegally and emit thick black smoke. The law must not be negotiable.
- Control construction dust. Cover building sites, manage waste responsibly, and fine violators.
- Bring back the green. Dhaka needs trees, open parks, and ventilation corridors—not just high-rises.
- Public awareness. Citizens must understand that every small act matters—carpooling, avoiding waste burning, supporting green policies.
The Bangladesh Clean Air Project (BCAP) has outlined many of these measures, but plans mean little unless implemented with urgency.
I recently met a young schoolboy near Dhanmondi who was wearing a mask. When I asked why, he smiled shyly and said, “Because the air makes my throat hurt.”
That one sentence sums up what’s wrong with our city. Our children are growing up thinking polluted air is normal. It isn’t. And it cannot be.
We owe it to them—and to ourselves—to make Dhaka livable again. Cleaner air isn’t a luxury; it’s the most basic right of every citizen. As long as the sky above our city stays grey and unbreathable, our development will remain hollow.
If there’s one message I want to leave, it’s this: Air is not politics. It’s life. And right now, life in Dhaka is running out of air.
