We walked in single file through a narrow alley in one of Dhaka’s working-class neighbourhoods, where life spilled into the street. Stalls pressed close as a fish seller called out the day’s catch, the clang of a rickshaw bell cutting through the noise. Overhead, tangled wires framed shards of sky. Curiosity led our group of 16 through the lane.
As the lane narrowed, a small, unmarked gate appeared -- plain, easy to miss. Stepping through, the street’s clamour gave way to colour, movement, and discovery. This was a Brac Play Lab: a homegrown initiative, built from recycled local materials, rooted in culture, and powered by community women. We were visiting as part of our academic learning, but what unfolded went far beyond any lesson plan.
Outside, bamboo frames held swings and a seesaw. Bright triangular flags danced in the sun. A shoe rack made from painted plastic containers cradled tiny sandals in cheerful disarray -- a reminder of how thoughtfulness thrives even in modest spaces. Inside, tin walls bloomed with paper flowers. Bamboo beams draped with bright fabrics swayed lightly overhead. Woven mats covered the floor, scattered with toys, puzzles, and clay -- every detail inviting exploration.
At the centre sat a young woman, her dupatta framing a warm smile. She was the khelar shathi -- officially the playleader, but in spirit, every child’s playmate. Around her, children aged three to four sat eagerly, their curiosity evident.
Where joy meets pedagogy
What followed was pure joy. The khelar shathi moved among the children like a quiet current -- inviting, modeling, celebrating every effort. A song about body parts became a chant of claps, stomps, and laughter. Counting games came alive with finger puppets, and the room pulsed with rhythms of soft and loud sounds. Learning -- language, motor skills, confidence, emotional regulation -- was disguised as laughter.
When she asked, “Who wants to sing amader desh ta shopnopuri?” -- a classic children’s song that dreams of Bangladesh as a land of wonder -- tiny hands shot up. Even the shyest child glowed with the confidence that comes from being truly seen.
The room expanded into five playful bhubons -- self-contained “worlds” of discovery. Ronger bhubon, the world of art. Golper bhubon, the world of stories. Shopner bhubon, where music and rhymes take flight. Aapon bhubon, a space for free play. And Bairer bhubon, the world of outdoor adventure.
The playleader moved like a conductor of joy, forming a train that circled the space and letting children “land” wherever curiosity led them. Her guidance was subtle yet intentional. She noticed the quiet child, cheered the bold one, and welcomed children with different needs so that everyone belonged.
A mother’s heart, a practitioner’s lens
As a mother, my heart swelled. This was the environment I want for my own children -- where confidence and curiosity grow as naturally as laughter. As a practitioner, I watched decades of early childhood theory come alive: Vygotsky’s social learning, Piaget’s play stages, Erikson’s trust and autonomy -- made tangible and joyful.
One moment, though, will stay with me forever. A little girl, barely four, with winged eyeliner and lipstick, proudly calling herself a “girly girl,” walked up and handed me a teddy bear she had drawn. In a society where gender norms take root before children can spell their own names, her unfiltered confidence felt quietly revolutionary.
I carried her drawing all day. Later, I gave it to my own daughter -- almost the same age -- who immediately began interpreting it in her own way. It reminded me how powerful it is when children are given agency, voice, and room to simply be.
Women at the heart of change
The play leader shared a story: A child who once struggled to speak now greets peers with confidence, laughing and joining every activity. Parents notice the change too. Families see how play-based learning builds confidence, curiosity, and joy.
Her story carried a deeper resonance. Once a hesitant homemaker discouraged by relatives, she found her voice after witnessing her own child flourish in one of the Play Labs. Now she is a skilled facilitator -- earning an income, building a career, and nurturing children with warmth and intuition. She may not speak in developmental jargon, but she lives its essence. And her impact doesn’t stop here; every hour she spends guiding children ripples outward -- strengthening families, empowering women, and transforming communities.
Play is not a luxury but a right
In communities where survival and schooling dominate priorities, play is often dismissed as a waste of time. But science tells a different story: The foundations of emotional regulation, empathy, and resilience are built in the brain during the early years -- and play is the engine of that growth. Every pretend act, every song and movement strengthen memory, self-control, and flexibility -- the mental muscles for life.
This growth is strongest when caregivers respond with warmth. That sense of safety calms stress, builds resilience, and creates the foundation for learning. Building a brain is like building a house: Without a strong base, nothing stands.
Globally, play is recognized as a right under Article 31 of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child. Yet this right remains unrealized for many in Bangladesh, where most young children still lack access to quality early learning -- a gap that community-led play models can help close.
From one alley to a national vision
If one Play Lab in a narrow alley could nurture confident, expressive, empathetic children, imagine the ripple effect when such spaces reach every corner of the country. Bangladesh has long led with community-driven innovation. Expanding early learning is our next frontier.
This is not “nice to have.”
This is the foundation every child deserves.
The G20 Social Summit reminded the world that investing in early childhood isn’t an education sidebar -- it is central to economic growth, gender equality, and national resilience. From Brazil’s community crèches to Bangladesh’s play labs, nations are finally seeing play as strategy, not charity.
For Bangladesh, the opportunity is clear: Scale community-led play models and you strengthen early learning, women’s labour force participation, health outcomes, and the workforce of tomorrow.
On World Children’s Day as recognized by the UN, we celebrate children’s smiles -- but the real celebration lies in the systems that protect their potential. The alley I walked through reminded me that brilliance lives everywhere; opportunity does not.
Play is possibility. Play is dignity. Play is power.
When we invest in it -- with science, intention, and community leadership -- we invest in the futures our children deserve.
As a mother, I will be more intentional with play in my own children’s lives.
As a practitioner, I leave inspired and committed to advocating for approaches that honour the boundless potential of our youngest learners.
Because the future of a nation is not written in skyscrapers or GDP charts -- it is written in the small hands that mix colours, mold stories, dig into sand, and dare to dream.
Sharika Tafannum is a development practitioner, and proud mother of two. She is passionate about early childhood development, emotional well-being, and reshaping systems to be more human-centred, both in policy and practice. Email: sharika.t.111@gmail.com.