Dhaka is chaos in motion. Ferries crashing into jetties. Rickshaws weaving through goat herds. Men carrying entire wardrobes on their heads. Somewhere in all of that, there is the Pink Palace, the so-called Ahsan Manzil, gleaming absurdly in pastel pink on the edge of the Buriganga River.
It was though towards the end of this day that things started to get interesting. Our Young Pioneer Tours group had already poked through the halls of crumbling colonial glamour. But the real adventure began when we boarded a crowded boat and crossed the Buriganga to reach the Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard tucked away on the opposite bank.
Most people hear ship breaking and immediately think of Chittagong. That is fair. Chittagong is the largest ship breaking hub in the world with kilometres of beached tankers being chopped apart by barefoot men with welding torches. But the Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard is a smaller grimier cousin. Unlisted in guidebooks. Unmapped. Unregulated. And on this particular morning ours to explore.
Into the Steel Jungle of then Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard
You dont find the Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard on any map. Its not a tourist spot. We made our way past boatmen working the river and then stepped straight into a place where rusted ship parts and old machinery lay piled up. Everything here had once been at sea. Now it was stripped down and recycled piece by piece.
No gates. No rules. Just the sound of hammer on hull and the buzz of electric saws cutting through metal. A man in grease streaked trousers saw us and beckoned. No words needed. Just a nod and a gesture toward the gangplank of a half dead ship.
So we went in to do our thing!
Climbing the Corpse
We climbed onto a half sunk freighter at the invitation of a man we had never met. The ship had not sailed in years. Its walls were ripped open floors torn out insides harvested like a machine picked clean. Anchors lay in piles along the banks coiled like dead sea monsters waiting to be remembered.
On deck we saw the rusted helm a chart table littered with cigarette butts and open doors leading nowhere. The metal groaned underfoot. Everyone looked around with the same thought maybe we shouldn’t be here.
But we were. The workers didn’t mind. A few waved.
The History Behind the Heat
Ship breaking in Bangladesh started growing in the 1960s but took off in the 1980s after storms pushed vessels aground. What was junk became business. It was cheaper to buy a dead ship than new steel. Bangladesh became second only to India in global maritime recycling.
The big yards are down south. But places like the Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard serve local markets. Steel gets sold to welders. Machinery shipped to workshops. Even ropes and wires find new life. Nothing goes to waste. Not even the oily water in engine rooms.
Its hard work. Dangerous work. But it keeps cities like Dhaka building. Construction never stops. Demand for cheap materials never sleeps.
Anchors and Acid
We walked deeper. The yard stretched farther than it looked. More vessels more scrap. Men carried welding tanks on their shoulders. Sparks flew from shadows. We stepped over pipes as thick as tree trunks down into hollows where engines lay like fossilised hearts.
And because its YPT I bought a cup of lime juice for ten cents and drank it straight. Local water local lime no messing around. Guts of steel. No stomach issues. Just the satisfaction of proving my street food credentials once agin…
The Buriganga in Black and Grey
The Buriganga River is part of the story. Once lifeblood now mostly poison. Its choked with chemicals black with runoff thick with plastic. But its alive. Ferries still cross. Kids still swim. Barges still bring cargo. On the banks skeletons of ships slowly rot back to earth.
Standing there between broken giants and swirling water its hard not to feel something. Not sadness. More curiosity. This is what the end looks like. Quiet dismantling. Men working under the sun cutting yesterday away to sell it for tomorrow.
Leaving Through the Back Door
We stayed maybe an hour. Long enough to poke around and take it all in. We left the Dhaka Ship Breakers Yard by boat same as we arrived. Later that day our group boarded a deluxe VIP ferry bound for Barishal. The journey was packed with that classic YPT party vibe laughter music and a proper celebration after the days grime and grind.
That is Dhaka. That is Bangladesh. And thats why travel with YPT is what it is. You think you’re visiting a palace. Then you cross a river. Suddenly youre climbing over rusted bones of global trade drinking suspicious lime juice and realising you are part of something bigger.
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