Dhap: The Forgotten Wetland Fruit
Mustafa Kamal Nannu, Tangail
“In our childhood, Dhap was food, medicine, and memory. Now, it’s just a story we tell,” says 65-year-old Shamsun Nahar of Tangail.
For centuries, the monsoon months in rural Bangladesh were not just marked by swollen rivers and green fields—but also by the sudden appearance of a unique, native fruit: Dhap.
Harvested from the flower of Bangladesh’s national symbol, the water lily (Shapla), Dhap was more than food—it was tradition. It was the heart of monsoon snacks, folk remedies, and the kind of rustic resourcefulness that defined village life.
But now, in the bustling markets of Tangail, Dhap is nearly invisible. Even elderly locals struggle to find it. Children don’t know its name. And the wetlands that once nurtured it? Rapidly disappearing.
Dhap, known in some areas as ‘Bhet’, is the seed pod of the water lily. Its soft white seeds were dried, puffed, or ground into a flour—used to make sweet puffed balls (naarus) or popped like rice (Dhap-er khai). Its earthy, nutty flavor made it a rainy season treat.
“It was cheap, filling, and grew on its own,” says Jabbar Ali, a local farmer. “When we had nothing, we had Dhap.”
Not just a food, it was also considered a remedy for indigestion, dysentery, and stomach ailments. Grandmothers swore by its healing properties, and every village child knew the joy of plucking a fresh pod from a pond after school.
Dhap’s decline is tied to a broader crisis: the loss of Bangladesh’s natural wetlands. Environmental experts point to: Over-excavation of ponds for fish farming Use of pesticides in lowland farming
Construction on arable and marshy land Effects of climate change (erratic rainfall, rising temperatures)
“All of these are destroying the ecosystem that supports aquatic plants like shapla and Dhap,” explains Dr. Meherun Nesa, an environmental scientist at Dhaka University. “We’re not just losing a fruit—we’re losing biodiversity, heritage, and local food security.”
At its core, the vanishing of Dhap is not just about agriculture—it’s about identity. In the rhythm of rural life, Dhap represented a seasonal marker, a signal that the monsoon had arrived in full bloom.
Its loss symbolizes something deeper: a break between generations, where children grow up disconnected from the foods, habits, and nature that shaped their ancestors.
“It’s not just about what we’re eating,” adds Dr. Nesa. “It’s about what we’re forgetting.” There is still hope.
Experts suggest that if protected wetland zones are declared, and if traditional crops like Dhap are integrated into climate-resilient agriculture, there may be a path back.
In an age of climate crisis and food standardization, forgotten foods like Dhap offer not just nostalgia, but potential solutions—local, low-cost, and sustainable. Bringing back Dhap isn’t just about reviving a fruit.
It’s about reconnecting with nature, honoring rural resilience, and remembering who we are.
