Talpakha: When novelty becomes necessity

It was an hour after the sun had set and it was no longer scorching above 37 degrees Celsius. But the air was stifling, the heat was palpable. And the temperature felt, more or less, the same as during the daytime.

A middle-aged man, already drenched in sweat and still profusely sweating, was walking in a hurry, in the Palpotri area of Rajbari market. He was searching the stores for talpakha – a hand fan made from palm leaves.

The nights without electricity have become a nightmare in the heatwave. Only a few can afford charger fans that are available in the market. 

And hence the demand for talpakha has skyrocketed – which had almost nearly become a thing of the past over the last several years.

In fact, the demand for it is so high right now that every store in Palpotri was out of palm fans by evening. 

Photo: Masum Billah

"The demand has increased 14 times," said Liton, a store owner, "so much that the fan makers of Kestopur cannot keep up with it." 

Kestopur is a village in Rajbari Sadar known for crafting traditional palm fans. The villagers have crafted fans for generations and provided it not only to Rajbari, but also to Faridpur, Kustia, Madaripur, Dhaka and several other districts. 

We travelled to this village on Monday (5 June) at noon. 

The villagers in almost every home along the street leading towards Khankhanapur railway station were making fans with palm leaves. Palm leaves were scattered all around, and both men and women were racing against time to make the fans. Beparis (traders/middlemen) from different districts were hovering over them; to collect the fans as soon as they completed 100 pieces. 

Photo: Masum Billah

Jesmin, a housewife, was binding fans with colourful wattle. This is the final part of the making of palm fans. "I have been making palm fans for around 10 to 15 years, ever since I got married here," Jesmin said. 

On the bank of a vast pond behind their house lay dozens of palm leaves to dry in sunlight. They had collected these leaves from different villages. Each leave costs around Tk8 to Tk10. 

After the leaves are dried, they will be left to soak in dew. Only then will the leaves be ready to be set into frames and undergo other processes, afterwards. 

"It takes a lot of work. From preparing the leaves, building the body and straightening the frame, to binding it - the process is complex. All of our family members have joined hands together," Jesmin added. 

Nikbar was working in front of his home by the street. Wearing a lungi, the bare-chested man was sweating. "I have been making fans for 15 years. This business runs for six months every year. I provide around 200 pieces of fans every day," Nikbar said. 

"The demand for our fan is very high this year, thanks to heat and load-shedding. In the past, we sold 100 pieces of high-standard palm fans for around Tk1,500 – now we are selling them for Tk4,500 this season," he added. 

On the other side of the street, under trees, Malaka Begum was binding the coloured wattle to ready the fans for delivery, as fast as possible. "They pay us Tk100 for 100 pieces of 'wickered' fans," Maleka said. "I can make up to 150 to 200 fans per day." 

According to the residents, around 50 families of Kestopur are involved in palm fan-making. Not just husbands and wives, but the kids were also being engaged in work, as they struggled to meet the skyrocketing demand. 

Mizan Sheikh was working with his 10th-grader son in front of his home. 

He was beaming when we approached him. "Our revenues have increased by more than double, so we are working with happiness in our hearts," Mizan said. "Both the heat and load-shedding have benefited us greatly"

Mizan also explained to us two different qualities of fans they make. 

"The high standard fans are built around palm sticks that come with the palm leaves, while the others are framed on bamboo sticks. The former is sturdier as the leaves come naturally attached to the frame and so they cost higher, around Tk4,500 per 100 at present," he said, adding that the bamboo ones are priced at around Tk2,000 to Tk2,500 per 100 pieces. 

In previous seasons, the bamboo stick ones were priced at Tk500 to Tk800 per 100. 

Mizan said when load-shedding disappeared for a few years, their business saw a decline. "It was tough even to run our families on the sale we had," he said. 

Among a dozen Beparis lining up the streets was Zobbar Sheikh. He collects talpakha from Kestopur and sells them in Rajbari, Faridpur, Madaripur and other areas. He delivers around 500 pieces of palm fans a day at present. 

"In recent years, fan prices were very low, as demand was low. I provided around 100 to 300 pieces in the past. There were days I had to come back home with unsold fans." 

We found another Bepari, Abdul Khalek, sourcing 100 bamboo-stick fans from a home.  

"I just bought them for Tk2,500. One piece cost around Tk25. In the past, these would cost Tk8 per unit," he said. "The palm handle ones would cost Tk15 before, and now they are Tk45 per unit. In the market, they are selling for Tk50 to Tk60."

Khalek, however, rued the fact that even though he was a local, Beparis from Gopalganj and Faridpur were undercutting him by offering to pay Tk50 per unit. 

"They are outcompeting us," he added. 

We found another Bepari named Shahjahan beside him, who delivers talpakha to Dhaka. "You won't find a talpakha in Dhaka for even Tk100 per piece. The demand is very high," he said. 

Electricity reached most houses in villages and the frequency of load-shedding had diminished for several years in Bangladesh. But the energy crisis that gripped the country last year has soared since June this year. With Payra power plant shut, the villages receive only a few hours of electricity, and hence load-shedding has become incessant. The situation is somewhat similar in the cities as well. 

Consequently, talpakha, a household item in Bangladesh, which had almost vanished into oblivion for several years, has returned to its former glory – no longer a nostalgia, but a reality. 

So load-shedding came as a blessing for you? 

Mizan Sheikh giggled. With a broader smile, he said, "Ca n I really call it a blessing?"