The Eid Economy - How Eid Became Bangladesh’s Biggest Spending Season

If there’s one thing every Bangladeshi knows how to do during Eid, it’s to shop with emotion, with abandon, and with the unspoken urgency of a national sport.

Image by Munish Sawant

From overflowing malls in Dhaka to pop-up stalls in Rajshahi’s corner lanes, Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Adha are not just spiritual seasons — they’re commercial festivals that fuel an entire ecosystem of buying, selling, spending, and social flexing.

After weeks of spiritual discipline and shopping marathons, the day of Eid dawns with a palpable sense of joy, relief, and ritual. Streets fill with the scent of attar and fresh shemai, children parade in crisp new clothes, and even the quietest neighborhoods buzz with celebratory energy.

This celebration contributes significantly to Bangladesh’s annual retail economy. According to a 2023 report by the Bangladesh Shop Owners Association, over 35% of yearly sales across fashion, footwear, homeware, and electronics take place in the 4–6 weeks leading up to Eid.

In Dhaka alone, shopping hotspots like Bashundhara City, New Market, and the entire Dhanmondi-Mirpur-Mohakhali triangle witness footfalls rivaling small concerts. Online, e-commerce platforms like Daraz, Evaly (RIP), and small Instagram boutiques ride the wave with flash sales, influencer hauls, and “Eid Edit” collections that vanish within hours.

But what makes Eid the moment for mass consumption?

It is less about utility and more about the experience of bonding and splurging. It’s emotional. Gifting isn’t just generous — it’s expected. Eid shopping in Bangladesh isn’t any trend; it’s a competitive sport, played with the frenzy of a national urgency. The post-Ramadan celebration, after a month of fasting and restraint, naturally morphs into indulgence, with shopping emerging as the most visible, Instagrammable outlet of that release.

It’s not all shallow sparkle. For local businesses, Eid is the golden quarter.

Small boutiques, artisan tailors, cottage industries, and even rural weavers depend on Eid sales to sustain operations. Tangail saree makers, Jamdani weavers in Narayanganj, leather crafters in Hazaribagh, and indigenous entrepreneurs in Chattogram Hill Tracts report revenue spikes that help them remain afloat for the rest of the year.

One major reason Eid shopping hits a fever pitch in Bangladesh? Disposable income. In the weeks leading up to both Eid-ul-Fitr and Eid-ul-Adha, a large segment of the population, especially salaried employees, receive festival bonuses, often equivalent to a full month’s salary.

For many, this is the only time of year when they have extra cash in hand, freeing them up to spend on new clothes, gifts, home upgrades, and travel. The psychological shift is palpable; suddenly, budgets expand, wishlists grow longer, and purchases that once felt like luxuries become justifiable indulgences.

For businesses, this influx of liquidity is gold. It fuels sales, drives seasonal campaigns, and turns every shopping mall, street market, and online store into a feeding frenzy of opportunity.

Eid consumerism also creates seasonal employment — from garment workers handling rush orders to delivery agents for online platforms. The economic chain expands rapidly during this time. The chain trickles down from malls to street vendors, rickshaw pullers, & food stall owners feeding the shoppers.

The Eid-ul-Adha Economy: Where Livestock Becomes Livelihood

Eid-ul-Adha brings with it an entirely different breed of consumerism — the multi-billion taka livestock trade. In the weeks leading up to the festival, temporary cattle markets (haat) sprout across cities and towns, turning open grounds into bustling hubs of commerce, negotiation, and ritualistic intent.

An estimated one crore animals are sacrificed annually in Bangladesh during Eid-ul-Adha, injecting massive cash flow into rural economies. Farmers, small-scale cattle rearers, and even seasonal traders often earn their entire year’s income in this short window.

Urban buyers, meanwhile, navigate everything from QR-code-tagged cows to flashy Instagram pages for premium goats. The recent rise of online cattle marketplaces has added a new layer of convenience and gentrification to the process.

But the industry isn’t without its issues: animal welfare standards are often lax, transport conditions inhumane, and post-Eid waste management remains a municipal nightmare. Still, for many, the qurbani business isn’t just tradition, it’s survival.

The Cracks: Pressure, Debt, and Performative Excess

But for all its economic benefits, Eid consumerism in Bangladesh comes with deep-rooted contradictions.

The unspoken rule of Eid? Everyone must look “new.” This creates enormous psychological pressure, especially for working-class and lower-middle-class families who often stretch beyond their means to “keep up.” New clothes for each family member. Gifts for relatives. Lavish meals. Social media doesn’t help — scrolling through curated reels of high-end outfits and gifts only reinforces the narrative that Eid must be visual, polished, branded.

Banks know this too well. In recent years, Eid-timed loan schemes, EMI plans, and credit card promotions have surged. But the afterglow of Eid often leaves behind piling debt and months of repayment anxiety, especially in urban middle-class households.

The explosion of cheap, trend-driven outfits — both imported and locally produced — fuels a fast fashion crisis. Clothes bought for Eid are often worn once, rarely reused, and discarded post-photos. Landfills swell, and local artisans suffer when their higher-cost, handmade goods are bypassed for factory-pressed sparkle.

Every Eid, stories resurface of garment workers protesting for unpaid wages, bonuses, or unbearable overtime demands. While consumers chase last-minute outfits, many behind the scenes are overworked and underpaid to meet demand.

So, What Now? A Middle Path Forward

Eid isn’t going to stop being a shopping festival and honestly, it shouldn’t. It brings joy, sustains livelihoods, and revives cultural identity through fashion and tradition. But what we need is conscious consumerism, especially among urban youth and middle-class spenders.

Buy local: Choose homegrown brands, fair-trade businesses, and ethically sourced products.

Shop intentionally: Do you need 3 new outfits, or will one thoughtfully made one suffice?

Support artisans: Tangail sarees, handmade panjabis, jamdani dupattas — these aren’t just purchases, they’re preservation of heritage.

Normalize re-wearing and repeating: Let Eid be about joy, not performance.

At its heart, Eid is about reflection, gratitude, and generosity. Maybe it’s time our shopping mirrors that too.

After all, a thoughtfully chosen saree from a weaver’s stall in Sirajganj carries more baraka than a haul of hashtags ever will.