It is peak hilsa season – the time of year when the air should be thick with the aroma of “shorshe ilish”, when families gather, and when even modest incomes stretch just enough to afford a piece of Bangladesh’s most beloved fish.
But this year, the mood is different.
In markets across Dhaka, hilsa lies glistening on ice, admired, photographed, priced, but rarely bought. Because now, one kilogram of hilsa costs as much as 3.5 to 4 kilograms of beef.
At Tk 2,600 to Tk 3,500 per kg, depending on size and origin, the national fish has become a luxury item – out of reach for most, enjoyed only by the few.
A market of longing and loss
At Rampura Bazar private employee Monirul Islam stood before a stall, staring at a 1 kg hilsa priced at Tk 2,800.
“I could buy four kilos of beef with that,” he said, shaking his head. “My children have been asking for hilsa and khichuri for days. But now? This price? Hilsa is no longer for people like us. It’s for the rich. We just look, and leave.”
Nearby, rickshaw puller Sabur Mia laughed bitterly. “If you want to eat hilsa,” he said, “you’ll have to rent out your land first.”
He had been watching for half an hour. Dozens came. All asked the price. None bought.
“People walk away with disgust,” he said. “How can a labourer afford this?”
Beef cheaper than hilsa
On the same day, beef was selling for Tk 750-780 per kg in the same markets.
Do the math:
- 1 kg hilsa = Tk 2,800
- 1 kg beef = Tk 780
- For the price of one hilsa, you can buy 3.5 kg, almost four kilos, of beef.
“It’s absurd,” said a homemaker in Malibagh. “We used to save for hilsa once a month. Now, even that’s impossible.”
Sellers can’t eat their own fish
Even those who sell hilsa are feeling the pinch.
Jalal Hossain, a vendor in Khilgaon, displayed large, shimmering Padma hilsa – 1.5 kg fish priced at Tk 3,500 per rkg.
“All kinds are available,” he said. “Big, small, river, sea. It’s peak season. But sales? Very low.”
And when asked if he has eaten hilsa lately?
“No,” he said flatly. “I sell it, but I can’t afford it. I’ll eat it when the price comes down.”
He is not alone. Across stalls, vendors echo the same refrain: We don’t set the price. We buy high, we sell high. But we don’t eat it.
Why is hilsa so expensive?
Fisheries and Livestock Adviser Farida Akhtar attributes the surge to a mix of factors: Low supply from the Padma River; high diesel prices affecting fishing boats and transport; middlemen and cartels allegedly inflating prices; extortion and illegal levies at checkposts.
“The price is not normal,” Farida admitted. “Initiatives are underway from the Chief Adviser’s office to stabilise it.”
But for now, relief is not in sight.
River hilsa vs sea hilsa: A taste of inequality
There’s a growing divide in the hilsa market too. Padma river hilsa is solds at Tk 2,600–3,500/kg – prized for its rich, fatty texture. Sea hilsa from Chattogram are sold for Tk 1,800–2,000/kg – cheaper, but many say it lacks the authentic taste.
“River hilsa has shine, red gills, bright eyes,” said one trader. “Sea hilsa is dull. But who can afford the real one anymore?”
A symbol of a nation’s struggle
Hilsa is more than a fish. It is woven into the cultural fabric of Bangladesh, a symbol of celebration, identity, and shared joy.
But today, its soaring price reflects a deeper truth: The cost of living has outpaced the value of wages.
When a rickshaw puller, a teacher, or a clerk can no longer afford a national icon, it is not just a market failure, it is a social crisis.
As one elderly woman said, watching a wealthy buyer walk away with a 1.5 kg hilsa: “We used to eat hilsa on Eid. Now, we pray just to eat meat.”