From juice stalls to fish markets: How ice mills survive even in the age of refrigerators
Long before electric refrigerators became commonplace, ice travelled across empires, cooled Mughal courts, and sustained bustling markets. From kerosene-powered fridges in colonial tea estates to Dhaka’s fading ice mills and fish markets, the story of ice in Bengal traces a remarkable history of ingenuity and survival
During the 1965 Indo-Pak war, Dhaka's temperature reportedly climbed to 42°C. Even the elderly could not recall the city ever being so hot before.
That same year, in Sutrapur, Mahabir Saha built a small tin-roofed structure on a brick plinth beside the road, just beyond the courtyard of the Mahabir Saha house.
Along the northern side of the room, he constructed a waist-high cement platform where ice blocks could be rolled during quieter hours. A mechanical ice crusher was installed on the western side. The southern portion was left open.
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Panna, Mahabir's son
In 1965, Mahabir's son Panna was nine years old. He did not attend school and spent most of his days trailing his father. Yet he could not quite figure out what his father was up to, and the suspense made him restless.
He did not have to wait long. One morning, two men arrived pushing a handcart carrying ten slabs of ice. They carefully unloaded them and stacked them in the empty southern corner of the shop. Panna's distant maternal uncle, Shital Mama, helped them lift the slabs.
They did not look particularly heavy, but Shital Mama explained that each slab weighed 18 to 20 kilograms. "There are two cans of ice here," he said. "Each can holds five slabs."
Ten slabs meant roughly 200 kilograms – about five maunds – of ice had just arrived at the shop. Only then did the fog in young Panna's mind clear: his father was opening an ice shop. Not a bad idea, he thought – though an ice-cream factory would have been even better.
Panna Saha still remembers that along with the slabs, two sacks of sawdust were also unloaded. One sack was spread over the ice to slow down melting. At the time there was no kilogram measurement in use. Ice was sold by the seer (1 seer is roughly 933 grams), and a seer cost four annas.
Back then, there were numerous ice mills across Nawabpur, Keraniganj, Mill Barrack, Postogola, Shyampur and Fatullah. It was a time when the densely packed settlements along Dholai Khal were lit by kerosene lanterns, electricity was limited to well-off households, and refrigerators were rare. Shops stocked only a few varieties of soft drinks.
The majority of people satisfied their thirst with roadside juice carts. These cart vendors were among the biggest buyers of ice, along with hilsa traders. But ordinary households also bought ice – for four or eight annas – carrying it home in pots layered with sawdust.
Growing up with his father, Panna gradually learnt every detail of the trade.
After Bangladesh gained independence, he took over the business himself – and it continues to operate to this day. These days his 35-year-old son, Ashiq Saha, occasionally sits at the depot. A government employee by profession, Ashiq also has an interest in the family trade.
"This is a business that has run through three generations," Ashiq said. "Even though the ice trade has shrunk to about one-third of what it used to be, I want to keep it going – even if through employees. Profit and loss matter less than the emotional value of a family business."
The fifteenth day of Ramadan
It is 3:30 in the afternoon. Panna Saha sits on a small stool in front of the depot. A sturdy man in his early sixties, he watches as an employee loads one-and-a-half sacks of crushed ice onto a van.
Each sack sells for Tk400, meaning roughly Tk6.5 per kilogram, which used to be four annas per seer back in 1965.
The sacks are headed for Narinda, where several shops sell lassi and falooda. Ice demand there surges, especially during Ramadan. Retail buyers also appear in greater numbers this month – some buying ice worth Tk10, 20, or 30 for household use.
Vendors selling matha (spiced buttermilk) and curd also depend on ice.
"If you don't add ice to matha immediately, it turns sour," Panna explained. "For curd, ice is placed around the pot to keep it firm."
Inside the depot, an employee feeds chunks of ice into the crushing machine. In seconds, the pieces are ground into fine crystals and fall into a container below.
Panna insists that mill ice is superior to refrigerator ice.
"Those who have tasted mill ice don't want fridge ice," he said. "Mill ice has a stronger chill."
A moment later he asks an employee to bring a piece of ice and places it in a visitor's hand.
"Hold it and see how cold it is," he says with a smile.
During the peak heat of May and June, the depot sells 40 to 50 maunds of ice a day.
Most of the ice comes from a mill in Gendaria. Unlike what some might assume, no ice mills in Dhaka use river or canal water. Instead, they rely on deep tube-well water, making the ice suitable even for consumption.
Panna recalls that Dhaka's ice once travelled far beyond the city.
"In the past, ice from Dhaka went to Patuakhali, Bhola, Kuakata, even Cox's Bazar, because hilsa was caught in large quantities there."
Didn't the ice melt along the way?
Panna explains that fishing trawlers used specially built ice chambers in the lower deck. Every gap was sealed to prevent warm air from entering. Once loaded, the ice could last up to 72 hours.
Today, many coastal regions have their own ice mills. But deep tube-wells are restricted there. Instead, mills draw water from nearby ponds, which makes the ice unsuitable for consumption and usable only for fish preservation.
A round through Karwan Bazar
The sprawling Karwan Bazar fish market has around 1,000 to 1,200 fish stalls. During the summer, nearly 400 cans of ice arrive daily on two large trucks and two smaller ones.
Each can contains roughly 25 to 30 kilograms, equivalent to two slabs. Ice sells for Tk 8–10 per kilogram here – slightly higher than elsewhere.
Four ice traders operate in the market, including Daulat Kazi. His nephew Md Raihan keeps the accounts.
Raihan said they source ice from mills in Gazipur and Gabtoli. Production capacity varies by mill – 600, 800, or even 1,000 cans per day. Transportation costs add to the price.
Ice trucks typically arrive around 3am, and by 7am the market is in full swing. If tightly covered with polythene, the ice holds up well.
Almost all fish require ice for preservation – Hilsa more than most.
Raihan added with a grin, "You can earn more in this business than in a government job. You just have to understand the trade."
A kerosene-powered refrigerator in Sreemangal
Bangladesh's only tea museum is located in Sreemangal, Moulvibazar. The museum houses several fascinating artefacts: bone tally sticks once used for counting, a radio set from a manager's bungalow, a wall clock, a hand-cranked telephone, tea tokens, and more.
One particular exhibit stands out – a medium-sized refrigerator that ran on a kerosene lamp. It is difficult not to be astonished. After circling it a few times, one notices a note pasted on the body of the fridge explaining that such appliances were once used in tea estates during the British colonial period. Their power source was a simple kerosene lamp.
It raises a curious question: in a time before electricity – before electric refrigerators had even been invented – was there no demand for ice?
The Scottish scientist William Cullen first proposed the idea of artificial refrigeration in 1740, though he was unable to develop the concept much further.
Later, in 1802, Thomas Moore designed a type of icebox for storing dairy products, and the following year he patented the device under the name "refrigerator."
Demand for refrigeration rose significantly after the American Civil War.
The first electric refrigerator, however, was invented by Fred W. Wolf in 1913, and commercial production began in 1918 with the Kelvinator Company.
The Indian subcontinent began to import refrigerators in 1928, and Godrej initiated domestic manufacturing in 1958.
Emperor Akbar's ice supply
The Mughal capitals of Agra and Delhi were notorious for their scorching heat. The emperors possessed elephants, horses, and immense wealth – but they did not have ice. It had to be brought from Himachal Pradesh or Kashmir.
People in Kashmir had long learned to collect ice during winter and preserve it using special techniques.
One such method, known as yakhchal, had been practised in Persia and Central Asia for centuries. It involved constructing thick-walled, dome-shaped structures designed to insulate the ice from outside heat.
Another technique involved digging underground pits where large containers of ice were stored. During intense summer heat, these reserves were transported to the imperial court.
Fast horses and camels were kept ready for the purpose. Ice from Kashmir travelled to Delhi along specially built routes running beside the Yamuna River. Once in the capital, it was stored in underground ice houses within palace complexes.
A specialised group known as the abadar was responsible for maintaining the ice and delivering it to the royal kitchens. Separate cooks in the imperial kitchens prepared chilled drinks such as juice, lassi and falooda. From Babur to Humayun, Akbar to Jahangir, and Shah Jahan to Aurangzeb, Mughal emperors were all fond of ice.
Tudor, the ice king
After their victory in the Battle of Plassey, the British – inspired by Mughal practices – built ice houses in Calcutta. Early experiments involved freezing water in shallow pits to produce what became known as Hooghly ice, though its quality was poor.
At that moment entered Frederic Tudor, the man who transformed the trade. Through him, high-quality ice began arriving in India from the United States. For wealthy merchants and colonial elites, imported ice quickly became a luxury staple.
And that was the 1830s. At that time, sea voyages from America to India took about four months.
On 12 May 1833, a ship named Tuscany set sail from Boston carrying 180 tonnes of ice bound for Calcutta. The vessel arrived on 6 September – and even after four months at sea, 100 tonnes of ice remained intact.
For the next three decades, Tudor's ice business flourished in Calcutta and other cities across India. He amassed a vast fortune and became widely known as the "Ice King."
How ice is made in a factory
An ice factory typically has four main components: a compressor, condenser, expansion valve, and evaporator. These machines operate using the vapour-compression refrigeration cycle, regulating temperature and pressure to freeze large volumes of water at 0°C or below.
Salt and ammonia gas are commonly used in the process to absorb heat from the water.
In the first stage, large iron cans are filled with water and placed in moulds inside the freezing chamber.
Once the water solidifies, the cans are lifted out with a pulley system. Workers then hook the containers with metal rings and pull out the ice slabs, which are loaded onto trucks, vans, or trawlers for distribution.
Freezing one tonne of ice typically takes 12 to 15 hours.
Babul Mia's ice alley
Babul Mia's uncle once ran an ice business in Thataribazar, buying ice from factories and selling it wholesale. Recalling the year 1969, Babul Mia says Kaptan Bazar was a strong market for ice because of its large fish trade. The Gulistan area also had many juice shops.
When the Liberation War began, Babul Mia returned to his village. Later, during the rule of Ziaur Rahman, he established his own ice mill in Dhaka. Demand was so high that queues would form before iftar during Ramadan.
The road running from Lohar Pul past Sutrapur Police Station into Farashganj Lane gradually became known as "Borof Goli" (Ice Alley) – officially listed in records as Walter Road.
Although Babul Mia ran an ice plant, his real ambition lay in ice cream. He began with simple stick ice creams, gradually gaining experience. Then in 2010 he decided to try making kulfi ice cream.
For a week, he experimented with recipes, offering free samples to his neighbours for feedback.
Once satisfied with the taste, he launched the product in the market. He named it Sonia Ice Cream, after his eldest daughter, and priced each piece at Tk2.
Demand soon began to grow – steadily and rapidly. At its peak, production reached 4,000 to 5,000 pieces a day.
"We even outperformed Igloo and Polar," Babul Mia said with pride.
Business remained strong until 2020, after which demand began to decline. For the past two years, production of Sonia Ice Cream has stopped entirely. Ice production too has dropped sharply.
"These days, selling ice doesn't even cover the electricity bill," Babul Mia says. "Yet mill ice has a completely different temperature – it cannot be compared with refrigerator ice. Still, like cinema halls, ice mills have been shutting down one after another."
Even now, Babul Mia opens his ice mill every afternoon. A few familiar faces drop by for conversation. The rest of the time he sits quietly, immersed in memories of ice.
