One of my earliest childhood memories of shopping is not actually about shopping.
It is about waiting.
When I was a child, my father used to take me with him to Karwan Bazar in Dhaka to buy the family’s monthly groceries.
The market was always noisy and energetic -- vendors shouting prices, porters moving through narrow lanes with heavy baskets on their heads, and the air filled with the smell of vegetables, fish, and spices.
But my father had a clever system.
He would place me at a particular spot, usually a quiet corner beside a shop, and ask me to sit there comfortably.
My job was simple: guard the growing pile of groceries.
My father would go off to buy fish, return and leave it with me, then disappear again to buy vegetables, rice or lentils.
Piece by piece, the pile would grow beside me like a small warehouse.
I would sit there watching the lively drama of Karwan Bazar unfold -- people bargaining fiercely, porters rushing with baskets, tea sellers circulating with kettles.
When the shopping was finally complete, my father would gather everything, pick me up from my “station,” and we would head home together.
Looking back, I realize my father had unknowingly invented something brilliant: the original waiting zone for shopping companions.
Fast forward many years and we have modern shopping malls with air conditioning, glass elevators and food courts -- but one important facility still seems strangely missing.
A proper relaxation area for men.
And if there is ever a time when such spaces are urgently needed, it is Eid shopping season.
Anyone who has visited a mall in Dhaka before Eid knows what I mean.
The parking lot is full, the escalators are overflowing and the corridors resemble a festive river of humanity flowing from store to store.
For many women, Eid shopping is not just an errand. It is a mission.
The energy is impressive.
A single dress may require visiting four stores, comparing three colors and consulting two friends on WhatsApp before a final decision is made. Shoes must match the outfit. Bags must match the shoes.
And sometimes the entire process begins again because a better option appears in the next shop.
Meanwhile, the accompanying men -- husbands, brothers, fiances or fathers -- slowly discover their true purpose in the expedition.
They are not there to decide.
They are there to carry the bags.
In fairness, most women do not actually need male advice while shopping.
They already know exactly what they want.
Asking “How does this look?” is often more a polite ritual than a request for serious consultation.
The man’s real responsibility is logistical support, a role he performs heroically while gradually accumulating shopping bags on both arms.
After two hours, the mall becomes less a shopping centre and more a personal endurance challenge.
This is precisely why malls should seriously consider introducing “male relaxation zones.”
Think of them as the modern version of my childhood corner in Karwan Bazar, only with better furniture.
Imagine comfortable couches where exhausted companions can sit and recharge.
Large televisions broadcasting football matches. Gaming consoles for quick entertainment. Coffee machines, Wi-Fi and perhaps even quiet nap-friendly corners.
While women conquer the retail battlefield, the logistics department could safely regroup in a comfortable lounge.
The idea may sound humorous, but interestingly, several countries have already experimented with it.
In China, some shopping centres have introduced what social media jokingly calls “husband storage pods.” These small glass booths contain comfortable chairs, screens and video games where men can relax while their partners continue shopping.
Germany has explored similar ideas through spaces humorously referred to as “Männergarten,” or men’s waiting areas -- lounges where companions can unwind with comfortable seating and entertainment.
In parts of Australia and Canada, modern malls increasingly include relaxation zones with couches, charging stations and large entertainment screens, recognizing that shopping centres are not just retail spaces but full-day leisure environments.
These innovations acknowledge something important: shopping is an experience, not just a transaction.
And every good experience requires rest stops.
Eid shopping in particular can stretch for hours.
Families move from clothing stores to shoe stores, from jewellery counters to cosmetics sections, often ending with dinner at the food court.
By the time the final purchase is made, some of the male companions look as though they have completed a marathon.
A small, well-designed lounge could transform this experience.
Instead of standing awkwardly outside fitting rooms, men could watch a cricket match, sip coffee or simply rest their feet.
Meanwhile, women would enjoy the freedom to explore shops without worrying about bored companions asking the most dangerous question in the shopping universe:
“Are we done yet?”
From a business perspective, malls could benefit too.
Relaxed men buy snacks. Relaxed men order coffee.
Relaxed men might even wander into electronics stores and make impulse purchases.
In other words, comfort can be profitable.
More importantly, such spaces would make the entire Eid shopping experience smoother and happier for everyone.
Because at the end of the day, shopping is meant to be joyful -- especially during Eid, when the excitement of new clothes, gifts and celebrations fills the air.
So perhaps it is time for malls to borrow a little wisdom from my father’s Karwan Bazar strategy.
Give the shopping companions a comfortable corner.
Let them guard the bags.
And when the mission is finally complete, everyone can return home together -- tired, satisfied and ready for Eid.