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I
t may look like just another fish to outsiders, but hilsa or ilish can make South Asians and especially Bengalis swoon and wax poetic. And while its delicate texture has made it the centerpiece in important meals in the subcontinent, hilsa is more than just food – it’s a cultural icon that connects Bengalis in India and Bangladesh.
“Ilish is an emotion for Bengalis,” says Amrita Bhattacharya, a food curator based in ShantiNiketan, in India’s West Bengal. “(It) is like an emotional connection between India and Bangladesh.”
Last September, however, that connection was thrown up in the air when Bangladesh’s interim government announced a ban on hilsa exports, including those to India, its largest market for the fish. According to Farida Akhter, an adviser to Bangladesh’s Ministry of Fisheries and Livestock, the ban was necessary to ensure enough supply for the locals.
The decision was reversed specifically for exports to India soon after, but by then speculations had grown that the real reason was political, as Bangladesh’s disgraced former prime minister remained a guest of the Indian government.
Yet Akhter’s claim was not without basis. In early November, Bangladeshi media reported that even after a 22-day hilsa fishing ban had already been lifted, the fish remained scarce in the local markets, which only ensured that the few available pieces would have hefty price tags.
In a July 2023 paper published by the research journal Frontiers, scholars noted that aside from overfishing, hilsa populations have been profoundly affected by “anthropogenic activities, climate change effects, increased salination, and rising river basins.”
“Due to climate change,” the scholars added, “hilsa fisheries are experiencing a decrease in abundance and catch rates and an increase in difficulty for hilsa fishermen to survive.”
Riverine ecology experts from both nations also tell Asia Democracy Chronicles (ADC) that while much ado has been made over the supposed “hilsa diplomacy” started by Bangladesh’s ex-Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina – who gave the prized fish to Indian officials and allowed hilsa exports to India in time for specific festivals – what they want to see is the two nations cooperating on protecting the hilsa and its habitats.
Both countries must work together to maintain the health of shared rivers like the Ganges, Brahmaputra, Barak, and Teesta, they say. According to the experts, dams, pollution, and agrochemicals threaten these ecosystems.
“India, as the upper riparian country, has a key role in preserving hilsa habitats,” asserts river researcher Sheikh Rokon, who is the secretary general of the Riverine People, an organization based in Bangladesh. “Healthy rivers will ensure abundant hilsa and successful diplomacy.”
Money matters
Like Bangladesh, Indian waters have hilsa (Tenualosa Ilisha) populations. But these pale in comparison with those of Bangladesh, which is the world’s top hilsa producer, and Myanmar, which comes second. In fiscal year 2022-23, Bangladesh produced 571,000 tons of hilsa, marking a 92% increase over the past 15 years.
This growth is due to government initiatives like banning the fishing of Khoka ilish (juvenile hilsa) during breeding season.
Much of this catch, however, is retained for domestic consumption, with just 30 to 50% of it exported to countries with significant Bengali communities, such as the United Kingdom, Malaysia, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates. Bangladesh also tends to export lower than approved – and conservative – quotas.
In fiscal year 2022-23, about 1,300 tons of hilsa were exported to its top market India out of an approved quota of 3,950 tons. The figure dropped to 664.86 tons in fiscal year 2023-24.
While Bangladesh’s hilsa exports to India are often seen as diplomatic moves, the interim government has said that the Durga Puja-timed shipment was meant primarily to earn money for Bangladesh. Indeed, even its limited hilsa export to its neighbor in fiscal year 2022-23 netted Bangladesh around US$13.68 million, and its 2023-24 shipment US$7.71 million.
Despite the limited export volumes, high domestic demand combined with supply constraints – due to factors like rough weather, rising fishing costs, and a general scarcity of hilsa – continues to push prices for the fish higher in Bangladesh. Meanwhile, across the border, New Delhi fishmonger Krishna Pal says that most hilsa in India now comes from cold storage or is sourced from Indian waters.
Hilsa connoisseurs in India seem to prefer the variety from Bangladesh, though. Says Bhattacharya: “There’s constant debate over whether Ganga’s hilsa is superior, but people still eagerly await Padma’s hilsa.”
The river Ganga or Ganges is in India, while Padma is its main distributary in Bangladesh, where the waters eventually flow out to the Bay of Bengal.
“Among Bengalis, hilsa from Bengal’s rivers is considered the finest in terms of quality, taste, and aroma,” New Delhi-based business journalist Reema Sharma says. “The hilsa from the Padma River, a significant river in Bangladesh and India, is particularly celebrated for its rich, oily flesh and exceptional flavor, making it a prized delicacy.”
“Each part of the fish is prepared differently,” says Sharma. “The muri (head) is used in chyanchra (a vegetable and fish head medley), the peti (belly) is cooked as bhapa (steamed) or shorshe bata (in mustard gravy), and the gada (back) is typically fried and served with rice.”
A mealtime – and festival – star
Bangladesh was part of India until the 1947 Partition, which led it to becoming part of Pakistan. In 1971, however, Bangladesh became an independent republic, with India’s help. Today India still has more than 97 million ethnic Bengalis, the dominant ethnic group in Bangladesh.
Fish plays a significant socio-cultural role in Bengali life, from birth and weddings to funerals. Bengalis eat various types of fish, including both fresh and dried, depending on the region.
“For Bangladesh, hilsa is part of the national identity,” remarks Bhattacharya. “Hilsa is Bangladesh’s national fish, while for Indian Bengalis, it holds emotional significance, especially during the monsoon. The Bangal community carries a legacy of traditional cooking, much like a heritage heirloom.”
“Fish is life and life is fish for Bengalis,” says Sharma. But, she notes, “unlike more common fish like catla or rohu, hilsa has always been a seasonal delicacy. Its limited availability made it expensive, turning a hilsa lunch into a rare and special occasion.”
For Hindu Bengalis in India’s West Bengal, hilsa is the highlight of the feast during the Durga Puja festival that is held for a week, between September and October. Traditionally, Hindu deities across India are not offered non-vegetarian offerings. But the shiny, white hilsa has transcended this norm.
“In Bengal, a unique tradition unfolds on Bijaya Dashami, the final day of Durga Puja,” says Bhattacharya. “On this day, many Bengali Hindu households purchase pairs of hilsa. As Goddess Durga, who has been worshiped throughout the week-long festival, departs for her husband’s home – symbolizing a daughter leaving her own home – women, viewing the goddess as their own daughter, eat panta bhat (fermented rice) and hilsa, which is considered a ‘feminine’ delicacy.”
“The Bengali community will eat hilsa again during Saraswati Puja in mid-February,” she continues, “when pairs of hilsa are brought in to prepare a special stew without oil.”
These customs have been observed for generations. Notably, however, hilsa is not eaten for over a quarter of the year, a practice that allows the fish to complete its breeding cycle and helps maintain the balance of the marine ecosystem.
But this and even state interventions like Dhaka’s periodic fishing bans are now strongly countered by climate change and overfishing.
Yet by being hard to come by, hilsa has become a dining wish-that-needs-fulfillment for many Bangladeshis. That’s according to anthropology professor Manosh Chowdhury of Jahangirnagar University in Dhaka.
“While hilsa is beloved by most Bengalis, its appeal also carries market significance and holds aspirational value within Bengali culture,” he says.
Chowdhury adds that the love for hilsa, along with other culturally significant foods like mangoes and sweets such as sandesh (a milky dessert) and roshogolla (chhena balls cooked in syrup), is rooted in the colonial history of Kolkata (then known as Calcutta).
“The city’s rise as a metropolitan hub blended various products and tastes, shaped by the pride and preferences of the feudal class,” he says. “This urban consumerism not only increased the market value of these foods but also reflected a lifestyle aspiration that influenced other cities.”
Chowdhury’s explanation seems to fit the enduring trend of partnering of fried hilsa with panta bhat during Poila Boisakh, the Bengali New Year. Panta bhat is a common farmer’s meal, but it is usually accompanied by chilies and salt. Even during festivals, farmers cannot afford anything more, especially hilsa, since it is expensive.
Sometime in the 1980s, however, fried hilsa began appearing on New Year tables in Dhaka. The practice spread outside of the capital, but not without controversy.
Some people questioned the appropriateness of competing to buy expensive hilsa for the occasion. Perhaps more importantly, they also pointed out that the celebrations usually fall in April, the hilsa’s breeding season. ◉