BAGHDAD — The Iraqi capital is no stranger to bombs, but a shopping street in central Baghdad bears a disproportionate share of their misery.

The two-mile stretch that hugs the eastern bank of the Tigris River has been bombed three times this year, a number security forces say has been kept down by frequent road closures.

The worst attack, in July, was the most deadly single suicide bombing the city has ever seen. It killed more than 300. The street was crowded with shoppers preparing to celebrate the end of Ramadan, and the bomb was crafted to direct its blast out to the sides, targeting shop fronts and stalls.

This neighborhood, Karrada — a majority Shiite area, and Baghdad’s commercial hub — is a prime target for the Islamic State. Upmarket outlets sell perfume, makeup and jewelry, while stalls on the sidewalk sell everything from clothes, shoes, watches and fake Gucci belts to fruit and vegetables. It’s the home neighborhood of Prime Minister Haider al-Abadi, and its coffee shops draw a crowd of intellectuals and artists each night.

In the days ahead of the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Adha, which started Monday, the street would normally be packed with people stocking up on clothes and gifts or gathering at cafes and restaurants. But after a bombing last week killed 10 people, concrete blast walls at both ends block traffic, and at a time of festivity, Karrada is mourning once more.

With no other vehicles allowed, blue-and-white buses ferry people up and down. Children make the most of the lack of traffic to ride hoverboards and bicycles, but their play doesn’t hide the fact this is a neighborhood on edge.

Terrorized residents report any sign of suspicious activity to the police. Taking pictures on a mobile phone is enough to result in a person being be flagged and pulled aside for questioning by the police.

But many want the street to open again.

‘‘It needs to reopen so the wheel of life and death can go on,’’ Jaafar Fadel, 52, said as he worked at the sidewalk stand where he sells pickles.

He tried to recall some of the bombings he had witnessed in his 12 years working on the street. ‘‘The last one was just there,’’ he said, pointing to a parking lot opposite. ‘‘Then the huge one down there,’’ motioning farther down the street with hands stained yellow from the turmeric used in his pickling mix.

He loses track, then gestures to the road nearby. ‘‘A while back there was a big one just there. I flew 20 foot through the air.’’ But he brushed it off: ‘‘That one wasn’t that big.’’

In the 13 years since the US-led invasion, the bombings have become a factor of life. Few here haven’t been touched by death.

‘‘It’s almost impossible to find someone who hasn’t lost a loved one,’’ said Omran al-Khafaji, the head of the local council.