—Farjana Liakat—

Food inflation has hit every household one way or other in Bangladesh, forcing low and middle income households to cut corners to meet daily needs. Once-accessible items like hilsa fish, beef, and mutton are now out of reach.

Even many staple foods like lentils, seasonal vegetables and local river fish, once a part of everyday life, have become symbols of unattainable luxury, leaving many longing for the simple joys of traditional meals.

In response, a few supershops in Bangladesh have introduced a commendable solutions aimed at bridging the gap. Offering affordable “combo food packs” that include curated portions of fish slices, vegetables, and necessary condiments. These initiatives help families taste their favourite dishes at least once a month without breaking the bank.

Additionally, small-portion packs of high-priced items like mutton, hilsa, and beef (250 grams) have made them accessible to those with limited budgets. For me these efforts are truly commendable.

Traditional meat sellers or fish sellers often are reluctant to sell small portions or pieces of a big fish. Low income families cannot afford a whole hilsa that costs from 700 taka to 2000 taka depending on size, or 1 kg of beef or mutton at a time. Often consumers are mocked in those shops if they wish to buy fish in pieces or 250/500 grams of meat.

This raises an important question: Why do we often choose cynicism over empathy when confronted with solutions aimed at easing suffering?

However, these initiatives designed to alleviate hardship, have been met with surprising mockery. On social media, memes ridicule the concept, trivialising the struggles of the efforts aimed to help.

This raises an important question: Why do we often choose cynicism over empathy when confronted with solutions aimed at easing suffering?

Bangladesh’s efforts are not isolated; similar strategies have been used worldwide to address food insecurity. In neighbouring India, cities like Chennai and Bengaluru have introduced government-sponsored “Amma Canteens,” offering affordable meals for as little as 5-10 rupees. Its aim is to address urban food insecurity.

There is a well-practiced trend in Japan named the Bento box—a pre-portioned, affordable meal set. It has been a part of the culture for centuries. Initially a tradition, it has evolved to cater to people of all economic backgrounds.

During the 2008 global financial crisis, many European supermarkets began offering small-portion packs of high-value items like cheese and fish, allowing consumers to enjoy quality products without straining their budgets.

In the US, SNAP benefits often encourage stores to provide affordable meal kits or discounted produce, ensuring low-income families can maintain a healthy diet. These global efforts show that offering smaller portions or curated meal kits is not a novel or disrespected idea but a practical solution to a pressing problem.

In times of hardship, it is not just policies or initiatives that matter—it is the collective spirit of society

Despite this, the Bangladesh initiatives have faced criticism, which threatens to undermine their success. When similar efforts have been mocked in the past, they risk being abandoned, leaving low-income families with fewer options.

History shows how ridicule can stifle promising ideas. When mobile phones first became affordable for low-income families, they were met with criticism—many argued that basic phones were unnecessary luxuries.

Yet, these devices revolutionised communication and economic opportunities for the poor. Had the criticism prevailed, mobile phones might never have become the transformative tool they are today.

The “Amma Canteens” in Chennai also faced early ridicule, with critics dismissing the programme as an unrealistic populist move. However, public support eventually prevailed, and the programme became a lifeline for many.

Without societal appreciation, these canteens might have closed, leaving millions without affordable meals. Similar stories of ridicule and eventual success can be found in Africa and South Asia, where the introduction of low-cost, reusable menstrual products faced mockery before being recognised as a life-changing innovation for young girls.

The importance of constructive feedback in these cases cannot be overstated. Instead of mocking, society should support and refine these initiatives.

In Brazil, supermarkets introduced smaller portions of premium foods to combat inflation. Though initially met with skepticism, public appreciation and feedback helped these programmes grow, allowing for a wider range of items to be offered at affordable prices. In Germany, discounted vouchers for fresh produce at farmers’ markets initially faced criticism, but through advocacy and public support, the programme became a success, benefiting both low-income families and local farmers.

Mockery, on the other hand, demoralises the people behind these initiatives and diverts attention from the real problems they are trying to address.

It creates an atmosphere of cynicism rather than collaboration, impeding progress. If Bangladesh’s supershops are to continue innovating, societal support is crucial to ensure their success.

As food inflation continues to challenge the livelihoods of millions, Bangladesh’s supershops are showing how creativity and compassion can make a difference. Rather than focusing on what is lost—such as the grandeur of a full-sized hilsa or the luxury of a large beef cut—these initiatives celebrate what can still be preserved: the essence of traditional meals, the joy of a shared dish, and the resilience of a community.

In times of hardship, it is not just policies or initiatives that matter—it is the collective spirit of society. We must choose to uplift, not tear down, to encourage, not mock, and stand united in our shared humanity.