The tale of Sowari Ghat fish market: Oldest, legendary and in decline

 3:57 am

"Bajar boibe chhodat, ohon kichhu  nai [the market will commence at 6 in the morning, there's nothing now]," says Jamal. 

He is an employee of one of the fish merchants at the Sowari Ghat Mokam. "Mohajon [the merchant] will be here at 6." He spoke as he cleaned a roughly 6 by 8 feet bid around him with two others.

There are 71 bids, fish shops simply put, here in total. The polybag-covered roofs were supported by eight to 10-foot-long, thick bamboo sticks. 

The floors were covered by bamboo mats - chatai.

Mokam appears to be a much-heard word at traditional food markets around the country. 

The closest word is in Arabic, 'Maqam' means "a place" or "a station." 

3:30 am 

On this side of the Buriganga river bank, the road underneath the Babubazar Bridge ends at the Shadar Ghat–Gabtoli Road intersection. 

The narrow intersection was loaded with people, trucks and thousands of cartons with images of fruits printed on them.

Turn left towards the Badamtali fruit market and, subsequently, Shadar Ghat. 

Turn right, and walk for about a kilometre towards the 99-year-old Sowari Ghat Fish Market.

On the bridge, there was mild traffic.

Busy, busy - considering the time.

On the river, bulkheads were moving towards both directions. 

The Sowari Ghat terminal, meanwhile, was desolate – except for a couple of lights hung from the terminal roof. 

Businesses, as Jamal and a few others suggested, would not peak before sunrise.

4:15 am

A few boats – carrying people holding bags and baskets – were sporadically landing on this side of the Buriganga. Not at the Ghat, but somewhat at distances. 

From the riverbank, they walked upward towards the road to Gabtoli, crossing the road, and gathering at the bazar.

Even in the darkness of late night, the pitch-blackness of the water could be felt. 

For the next one and a half hours, boats kept coming. A crowd was slowly concentrating. 

Not a massive crowd yet, but there was a sense of anticipation in the air.

As if all were waiting for a show to begin soon.

"A team of foreigners came here this winter," said Md Dulal, an employee at one of the bids - hailing from Madaripur. He beamed with joy as he described the visit. 

A few others joined Dulal - saying this team was accompanied by Indians, a Black woman and a few "whites" alongside two Bangladeshi locals. 

"They knew about this market, and came here for a week straight - capturing a lot of photos, even doing sketches of the activities here!" 

"Before they had left, they gifted me some of the photos they took of me," said an ecstatic Dulal. 

Then he took us towards an approximately five-foot-tall, big white open-top container. 

It was full of water, and hundreds of fish were swimming.

A compressor connected to a few thin tubes going down the water. Through the tubes, the air was being passed.  

"This way, we keep fish, mainly various carp species, alive until the auction to get decent prices," said Dulal.

More on the auction later.

There were only a few of these, mostly "privatised" initiatives, and not every bid had them. 

5:47 am

At first, Akhtar Hossain suggested we wait before we spoke to him. "Now will be a busy time, for we will be preparing the Arot [wholesale point] before the Mohajon comes." This was the Arot next to Jamal's. 

He did speak though - while sorting drums and big metal containers full of fish.

On a bowl on top of one of the drums, one of his assistants poured a pile of fresh flailing fish. "Shing Machh," Akhtar pointed to the fish. 

"I have been doing this business for 35 years." Akhtar and his assistants emptied one container after another, pouring fish on the bowls or drums surrounding the Arot periphery.

"I worked at the Karwan Bazar before; two years ago I moved here."

"Shol, Shing, Koi – we get varieties. Even Kuiccha, frogs!" This arot has everything, small to large - that was what he meant. 

The fish come from Sylhet, Khulna, Barishal, Faridpur, Jashore and many other places. 

"Teknaf to Tetulia." Akhter's voice asserted pride.

Local merchants from every corner of the country, "The Third Parties" as Akhter labels them, send fish to this market. By various means – his lots came via bus.

"Whatever fish you see here, come from natural sources." 

All natural sources – from the river to the sea. 

Farmed fish are sold as well – "mostly from Khulna."

On average, Akhtar and his assistants estimate a sale of around Tk1,50,000 fish a day.

But then he lamented the market is past its glorious days. "It is the oldest, but no longer the biggest market." 

So then, which ones are? "Jatrabari, Karwan Bazar… Jatrabari's is much more recent [at 25 years old], that market covers a massive area." 

You may have guessed what the next question to him would be. And to that, Akhtar became somewhat philosophical. 

What do you think of Sowari ghat shrinking over the years? "Here is a thing, I used to be young, and then I grew up. I have aged. Someday I will die. But then newborns appear and grow.

This market is the same. It was the largest. Then it has turned old. Now it is no longer the largest, who knows! Someday, the market may see glory days reappear, or maybe not." 

5:26 am 

The Azaan was spreading in the air from the Sowari Ghat Mosque - right by the market. 

Behind the market and the mosque is Champatali Lane. 

Often, the market is locally called Champatali Ghat fish market. 

The shrine of Bibi Champa is by the Chhoto Katra – one of the two collonaded architectures of Old Dhaka. Built during the Mughal regime, they used to be places to shelter pilgrims. 

The lore is that Bibi Champa used to shop right on the river bank – the place where the fish market is today. 

In her memory, the narrow road that leads to the Chhoto Katra from the Ghat is named Champatali Lane. 

6:07 am

"Our sale depends on the fish type and amount that are sent to us," as Md Shohel Ahmed of Netrokona was opening containers and speaking, the Fajr prayer could be heard through the Mosque loudspeakers.

The market was slowly getting busier. The buzz around was getting prominent as every minute passed - chants, swearing, instructions, pulling along containers and huge round bottom baskets, and so on. 

"Mayer Doa Motsho Arot" – such was written on the container, "the party that sent this fish to us, from Netrokona.

The season is near the end, so we are getting fewer fish. During the monsoon, there will be another new season of abundance." Shohel suggested.

What he spoke about later - about the sale, the money involved and how the market declined due to new competitors in the town – largely reflected Akhter's views.

But then his voice took a cynical turn. 

"The rivers are in bad hands. We used to get more in the past in my town, but now we do not. Many species are now extinct because of toxic medicines [insecticides used for crop cultivation]. 

There is illegal river-grabbing and irrigation, and people in the local authorities are often involved because there is a share of money." 

"Write about this, if you can." Shohel did not hide his resentment.

6:25 am 

The sun attempts its best to rise past the dusty Dhaka sky. 

Fifteen minutes ago, the market was just warming up. Now, standing still at even a corner becomes nearly impossible. 

People are all over. 

Traders, merchants, buyers, visitors – the buzz around this place shifted gear from zero to fifth straight, defying the laws of physics.

Voices are now louder than ever – criss-crossing one another. If paid hearing for an extended period of time, the chatters would likely take one to a trance.  

Since 4:00 am, fish were being brought on trucks, small boats, rickshaw vans and autos. Many of the baskets were transported from the Shadar Ghat to here. 

Despite boats at the river bank, the terminal itself was somewhat lacking the hoo-ha.

As Shohel and his associates said earlier, water is a lesser-used route now since by-road transport is far more convenient and efficient. 

Fish are sold here in auctions. 

Here is how it goes. The seller weighs a certain amount, or number, of fish – and sets a base price. Whichever buyer bids the highest beyond that base price gets to own that lot.  

These employees work for the merchants (Mohajons) and many of them live in the buildings right behind the market, which have rooms for office-cum-living. 

For each Arot employee, the rent combines the living space and the space they get in the market for trade. One employee said the amount is roughly Tk20,000 a month. 

Employees get daily commissions, based on how much they sell – which is about 2-3% of the total sale.  

The ultimate free market.

6:27 am 

Chandranath Rajbangshee, a 62-year-old veteran, has been buying fish from this market since childhood. He has got four Ayre fish, each at a Tk700 rate. He plans to sell them at Tk800 each. 

"You see only four here, it may take two days, who knows!" laughs Chandranath. 

Asked why, he went, "Why would you get to spend behind fish if you lack money?"

No answer to that. 

He plans to get more – small fish like Kachki, Shrimp etc, but admits that the sale is "up to the heavens."

"Business is no more like they used to be, we used to have this and the Nayabazar only. Now there are hundreds of small fish markets just at the Old Dhaka. Even down the stairs of where I live, there is one." 

Too many competitions.

6:37 am

Fish markets and ice are synonymous. So, where there is the fish market, you expect there would be ice mills nearby. 

Just by the road to Gabtoli, in front of the market, a few young men were thrashing huge ice chunks by means of metal pipes. 

"We sell ice to the small dealers. The mill is behind the market."

Md Billal, one of the men, sighed. "There used to be many ice mills here, now there is only one." 

He showed a roughly 2 x 3 feet chunk of ice. "We used to sell 40 of these every day even a few years ago. Business used to go on until noon. Now we sell only six to seven a day." 

Md Forkan, a veteran worker here, had more to offer. 

"I sell ice worth Tk1,000-1200 a day now. 20 years ago, I used to pay my labourers this much, okay? As you see, I work mostly alone now." 

"People do not have money, the sale is downwards."

Many have hinted that the area of the market has been reduced. 

The market is concentrated in a relatively small place – as it has been for many decades. However, some of the employees suggested that the market used to extend to the other side of the Shadar Ghat–Gabtoli road too. Now, part of the land there has been taken over by government authorities. 

One such is the BIWTA landing station, a three-story building less than a hundred feet away from the market. On the top floor, they even have a restaurant - from there one can enjoy the pitch-black Buriganga. 

The name is "Riverine." 

6:53 am 

Reaching fish merchant Md Shafiqul Islam took many elbows, and many "vai dekhi ektu."

Throughout the night, employees indicated that he was "the one to talk to."

"There are 71 of us – the owners, fish merchants – the committee formed by us runs the market." 

From generation to generation, this business formed the identity of his family.  

"My fish are sent from Rajshahi, Mohonganj in Netrokona, Hatia, and Ilisha in Bhola. Fish from here go to the other side of the river, to Mohammadpur, to Mirpur, to Savar, to as far as Manikganj, to other markets like Jatrabari's," said Islam.

Sellers at the regional fish markets send people to many of the big ones simultaneously, "They talk through mobile phones and check where the cheapest ones are. Many prefer this market for this one reason."  

He did say that the business has seen some setbacks lately due to the increased number of fish markets around Dhaka, and the economy in general. 

"The sale is worth Tk10-15 lakh a day now - very poor." Islam's voice did not hide the sorrow and angst.

"20 years ago, about 40 trollers full of fish used to land on this Ghat every day. The sale used to be worth Tk50 lakh, if not more."

"Trollers do not arrive anymore. Instead, fish are transported by passenger vessels at the Shadar Ghat, and rickshaw-vans from there. Such is the level of decline."  

So then, what does the future hold for this market? 

"This is our ancestor's business, so we will try blood and flesh to keep this going," Islam spoke as he responded to a customer at the same time. 

Many areas of this market will be taken over by the government for a four-lane road soon, he informed.

"They allowed us to continue at the place where we are today. But once the construction begins, we will have to move deeper towards the building." Islam pointed to the green building behind them. 

"We will demolish part of it and make space for our employees." 

What if the shift means even less business? 

"We will have to think about alternatives, there are not too many options," Islam spoke nonchalantly, but it was not difficult to sense the gloom in his voice. 

Similar to entering, it took some effort to come out of the market. 

It was past 7:00 am, and business was at its peak. Activities will continue until 10 to 11 am. And then, the place will be left unoccupied – until late night the next day. 

A few hundred metres away from the market, we looked back. On the left was an area owned by the South City Corporation. Not much could be heard, nor seen from there. 

The market was on a dimension of its own, so to speak.

Old and legendary - once the most vibrant fish market is on a decline while new markets boom. But the spirit and life here still want to run at full throttle.

Just like the celebrated song "Troubadour" by the American country legend, George Strait.