DHAKA is a city of life for millions, its streets serving as vital arteries through which people and vehicles flow from morning until night. And beneath this restless movement lies a silent danger that has become an everyday threat: open manholes. What should be innocuous components of the city鈥檚 drainage and utility systems have instead turned into lethal traps. Their persistence on Dhaka鈥檚 roads not only claims lives but also calls into question the very notion of safety in the capital.
Walking the streets of Dhaka has become less a daily necessity and more an act of risk. Pedestrians must navigate between reckless vehicles, crumbling pavements and potholes; yet among these hazards, open manholes stand out as the most insidious. They appear unpredictably: on crowded pavements, at the edges of busy thoroughfares and even in the middle of main roads. Too often they remain unmarked, without barriers or warning signs. During rainfall or waterlogging they become invisible, blending into the floodwaters until the distinction between road and chasm disappears altogether. It is then that they pose the greatest danger.
The memory of four-year-old Jihad, who fell into a manhole in November 2015 and could not be rescued alive, remains etched into the public consciousness. More recently, a woman lost her life in a similar manner. These tragedies are only the visible tip of a much larger problem: countless other incidents occur that never reach the media, leaving victims with injuries or lifelong trauma. Children, the elderly, rickshaw-pullers and pedestrians are the most vulnerable. At night, when poor lighting obscures the ground, the threat multiplies. What is astonishing is not only the frequency of such accidents but also the seeming acceptance of them as inevitable in the country鈥檚 capital.
Why do open manholes remain such an enduring menace in a city aspiring to modernity? The reasons are disturbingly familiar. Theft is one. Manhole covers, usually made of iron, have a high resale value. Gangs remove them and sell them, operating without fear of detection or consequence. Another is institutional apathy. Agencies such as WASA and the city corporations seldom act swiftly when covers are stolen or broken. A single manhole can remain exposed for months, even years, without remedial action. Inadequate coordination among service providers further compounds the crisis: gas, electricity and telecommunication companies frequently dig up roads and leave manholes improperly sealed. Meanwhile, the city鈥檚 persistent waterlogging problem has prompted the dangerous practice of intentionally removing covers to drain stagnant water. What may appear a quick solution to flooding effectively trades inconvenience for mortal danger.
Underlying all this is a profound failure of governance. Responsibility for manhole safety is diffuse, divided among multiple agencies that often evade accountability. The absence of clear monitoring systems or emergency response mechanisms means accidents recur without systemic correction. That residents have come to expect open manholes as part of the urban landscape speaks to a troubling normalisation of risk. In any modern city, such negligence would be intolerable; in Dhaka, it has become routine.
The consequences extend beyond immediate loss of life. The ever-present fear of open manholes erodes public confidence in the safety of city streets. For workers, students and commuters, daily travel involves heightened vigilance, slowing down movement and increasing stress. The insecurity particularly burdens those already marginalised: women, who may be walking at night after work; children, whose attention is easily diverted; or elderly citizens, for whom even minor falls can prove devastating. This erosion of basic safety undermines Dhaka鈥檚 claim to be a city of opportunity and resilience.
Addressing the crisis demands not another cycle of ad hoc repairs but a structural response rooted in accountability, technology and public participation. First, responsibility must be clearly assigned. Every manhole should fall under the charge of a specific agency, be it WASA, city corporations, or another utility, whose accountability is enforceable through regular inspection and penalties for negligence. Second, theft must be prevented by eliminating incentives. The reliance on iron covers should be reconsidered in favour of reinforced concrete or composite materials that have little resale value but equal or greater durability. Third, monitoring systems must be modernised. Digital mapping of manholes, combined with mobile-based reporting apps, could allow citizens to flag open or broken covers in real time. Fourth, law enforcement must treat theft and negligence not as petty infractions but as threats to public safety warranting exemplary punishment.
Public awareness is equally essential. Citizens cannot be passive victims of poor governance. Campaigns that encourage immediate reporting of open manholes, combined with community pressure on local offices, would help force responsiveness. Moreover, when construction work leaves manholes exposed, visible barricades and warning signs should be mandatory. Such simple measures are neither costly nor complex; their absence reflects only disregard.
Ultimately, open manholes are more than a technical flaw in urban management. They symbolise the broader failures of Dhaka鈥檚 infrastructure: lack of planning, weak coordination, inadequate enforcement and chronic disregard for public welfare. The persistence of such avoidable hazards raises a grim question: how safe can a city truly be if its very streets harbour traps that endanger lives daily?
For a capital city to be modern, liveable and humane, the basics must be secured first. Citizens should not have to scan the pavement for deadly gaps as they walk to school or work. No parent should lose a child to an uncovered drain. Open manholes represent preventable deaths and allowing them to remain is a choice, a choice of negligence over responsibility, of apathy over dignity. Dhaka does not need more reports of accidents to act; it needs the political will to ensure that the roads of the city protect rather than imperil those who use them. The time to close these death traps is long overdue.
听
Sadia Sultana Rimi is a student of Mathematics at Jagannath University.
