A recent news report, headlined "Government moving to fix hilsa prices centrally to rein them in", caught my eye. The chief adviser has already given his consent, and instructions have been issued to start the work needed to put it into effect. A proposal to set hilsa prices was sent to the Ministry of Fisheries and Livestock, and when it was presented to the chief adviser through the Cabinet Division, he approved it.

Taking advantage of the taste and fame of our national fish, dishonest traders and wholesalers (aratdars) set prices as they please, putting hilsa out of reach of ordinary buyers. Hilsa does not come only from the Padma, Meghna or Jamuna; it is caught in 10 to 12 coastal districts, including Barishal, Bhola, Patuakhali, Cox's Bazar, Barguna and Jhalakathi. There is no direct cost of production in these places, yet prices are rising abnormally because of syndicates.

In Bangladesh, hilsa is not just a naturally produced fish. It is an emotion, a taste, a culture and a symbol of identity. Festivals, politics, diplomacy and even poetry revolve around it. But the "anarchy" that has appeared in the price of this silver king of the waters has put it beyond ordinary people's means, and they are asking hard questions about purchasing power and market transparency.

Because market control is weak and monitoring inadequate, rumours spread every fishing season: "there are no more fish in the Meghna", "big hilsa aren't being caught", "the fishermen couldn't even go out". Yet at the same time, preparations are under way to export thousands of tonnes of hilsa to India. Who spreads these rumours, and how do they sway the market?

Whether at festivals or in everyday shopping, the hilsa price has taken on an arbitrary character. Where a kilogram costs Tk 1,200 in one area, it goes above Tk 2,600 in another, with no logic and no central control.

One of the main reasons for the failure to control prices is that there is no single price set centrally. Some regional difference is reasonable for farm produce or fish, but for hilsa it is excessive. How can hilsa that is relatively cheap in the markets of Barishal, Chandpur or Bhola cost double in Dhaka? Each seller asks a different price: one calls it "pure Padma hilsa", another raises the price by saying it is "absolutely fresh". There is no proof of these claims and no quality control, so the market is in chaos and the ordinary consumer is helpless.

There are structural causes too: a weak supply chain, the domination of middlemen, the lack of quality control and, above all, limited government oversight. Fish landing centres display no price lists. Nobody controls prices in the wholesale market. And at retail level, the drives run by the consumer rights protection authority are often short-lived and lax.

Can hilsa be sold at one price across the country? Hilsa lovers answer directly: yes, but on conditions.

First, the government must draw up a central policy for marketing hilsa, setting what each size should cost, how quality is checked, how the fish is transported and stored, and how it reaches the consumer. A base price should be fixed where hilsa is landed, in places such as Chandpur, Bhola and Patharghata, taking into account seasonal production costs, wages and transport. A reasonable profit at the transport and wholesale stages can then be added to arrive at the consumer price.

Second, an online "hilsa tracking system" could be introduced, recording every step from catch to sale. This would reduce adulteration, fraud and the grip of hoarders. Many countries, including China, already use such systems for fish and fruit.

Third, markets must be monitored regularly through mobile courts. Breaching the government-set price should bring immediate fines and cancellation of licences, and sellers should also be trained to sell to proper standards.

Fourth, a national "hilsa price board" could be formed, with representatives of the fisheries department, the Directorate of National Consumer Rights Protection, fish traders' associations and consumer organisations. The board would set the price per kilogram each season based on average production, demand and supply. Stability needs a "fish price policy", much like a central monetary policy. Just as the government issues guidelines for eggs, onions, rice and sugar, a fixed price structure is needed for hilsa from the grassroots to the consumer.

A government hilsa market could also be launched online, making quality-checked hilsa available to all at a single price. Using technology such as digital scales, mobile apps and market monitoring cells, the government could set and publicise daily or weekly hilsa rates, securing a "reference price".

Our policies on conserving hilsa and trading it are not coordinated. Is hilsa only a commercial product, or also a natural resource? If the government imposes seasonal fishing bans for conservation, why do prices jump once the ban ends? The role of hoarders and fraudulent traders must be investigated. Central control over hilsa would benefit fishermen as well as ordinary people: real producers would get a fair price, middlemen would disappear from the market, and buyers would get reliable fish at a fixed price.

Hilsa is not just a fish; it is our heritage, our pride and a symbol of international recognition. Letting it be ruined by market chaos would be a cultural loss as well as an economic one. What is needed now is coordinated action, a realistic policy and strict enforcement. Only then might we one day go to market and say we are buying hilsa at a fixed price, without being cheated.

Since producing hilsa mainly involves the cost of catching and transporting it, those concerned hope that a reasonable nationwide price would let consumers buy it affordably and bring stability to the market, easing the chaos.

Most important of all, the production and conservation process must be made transparent. In many fishing villages, government aid during the hilsa ban season still does not reach people properly, so they are forced to fish illegally. Unless this stops, the dream of a single market price will remain out of reach.

Leaving the market for our renowned national fish, adorned in UNESCO's heritage list and matchless in taste and aroma, to disorder would not only cheat consumers but amount to plundering a nation's heritage. A single price is not only a matter of economic fairness but of cultural dignity, and protecting it is the state's responsibility.

The writer is a professor in the Department of Social Work at Rajshahi University and a former dean of its Faculty of Social Sciences.

Source: Jagonews24. First published in Bengali on The Agro News.