The Silent Cry of Farmers in Northern Bangladesh: Who Will Listen?

Md. Aktarul Islam :

In my childhood, I read a poem that said, “The greatest of all saints is the farmer of my land—the hope of the nation, the seeker of the motherland’s freedom.”
But where does that farmer stand today? Is he doing well? Does anyone truly ask how he survives?
During the last potato harvesting season, I visited my village in northern Bangladesh. The fields were overflowing with potatoes, and for a brief moment, farmers wore smiles of pride. But that joy vanished quickly when market prices fell lower than the price of water. Selling potatoes could not even recover production costs. Many farmers then decided to store their harvest, hoping for better prices later. But when they reached cold storage facilities, they found no space available. Refusing to sell at throwaway prices, many farmers returned home—only to watch their potatoes rot.
This winter, the situation appeared even more tragic. Those who had managed to store potatoes are now unwilling to retrieve them. The reason is simple and brutal: the market price is so low that sales revenue would not even cover storage fees and transportation costs. As a result, farmers have abandoned crops they nurtured with care. Meanwhile, in Dhaka, the same potatoes are selling for more than 30 taka per kilogram.
After August 5, many social groups took to the streets demanding benefits and privileges. Yet the farmer—the one who labors under the scorching sun, who puts food on our plates—remained silent, even while facing massive losses. No one marched for him. No one asked how he was coping.
On my way back home, I got off the train at Parbatipur in Dinajpur. In a nearby field stood Abdul Karim, a farmer, surrounded by rows of potato crops. Months of labor, borrowed money, sleepless nights of irrigation—all were being crushed into the soil by a tractor. With a trembling voice, Karim said, “If I take these to the market, I won’t even recover the transport cost. It’s better to destroy them here.”
This is not an isolated story. Across northern Bangladesh, the same scene repeats itself every harvest season. Potatoes, tomatoes, cabbages, cauliflowers—dumped by roadsides or destroyed in fields. The reason is always the same: no storage facilities, no fair prices.
Ironically, northern Bangladesh is one of the country’s most important food-producing regions. According to agricultural reports, around 25–30 percent of the nation’s food grains come from this area. In potato production alone, districts like Dinajpur, Rangpur, and Thakurgaon contribute over 40 percent of national output. Yet storage infrastructure, market systems, and price-regulation mechanisms have failed to grow alongside this massive production. As a result, nearly a quarter of the harvest is wasted each year, while the rest is sold at prices that barely cover costs.
Every season, farmers face the same anxiety after harvesting: Where will we store our crops? Due to the shortage of cold storage facilities, modern warehouses, and effective government procurement centers, farmers are forced to sell directly from the fields. Middlemen exploit this vulnerability, buying produce at prices below production costs while farmers remain trapped in losses.
This is not merely an economic failure—it is a glaring example of institutional neglect. Farmers are squeezed from both sides: rising costs of seeds, fertilizers, pesticides, irrigation, and labor on one end, and extreme price uncertainty on the other. Access to bank loans is limited, agricultural insurance is nearly nonexistent, and government support rarely reaches farmers on time. Many are forced to abandon farming altogether.
The question is unavoidable: does anyone hear this silent cry? In development plans, is northern agriculture reduced to nothing more than statistics? We have heard promises for decades—modern cold storage, multipurpose warehouses, agro-processing industries, and direct farmer-to-consumer markets. But where is the implementation on the ground?
Ensuring fair prices for farmers requires an effective government procurement system, digital platforms to reduce middlemen dominance, and prioritizing agro-based industries in northern Bangladesh. Increasing production alone is not enough. Storage, market access, and value addition must become the core pillars of agricultural policy.
The cry of northern Bangladesh’s farmers is not just a regional issue—it is the cry of the nation’s future. If farmers survive, agriculture survives. And if agriculture survives, the country survives.
The final question remains: who will take responsibility for listening to this cry?

(The writer was a student, Department of Mass Communication and Journalism Session – 2020-2021, University
of Dhaka)