Remote no more: Tomatoes put Pabna’s Khalilpur on the map

In the far-flung Char Khalilpur of Pabna’s Sagarkandi Union, tomatoes aren’t just a crop—they’re a game-changer. 

Dubbed the “Tomato Village,” this remote outpost and its neighbours have seen their economy blossom, thanks to a tomato boom that’s swept the region over the past two decades. 

Pioneered by agricultural entrepreneur Ansar Ali, who first turned to commercial tomato farming 20 years ago, the village now supplies the nation with its vibrant winter harvest, meeting local demand and beyond.  

“Tomatoes with organic pesticides and improved varieties—like Sultan Suleiman, Mirakkel, and Mintu Super—bring big profits,” says Ali. 

The Mirakkel variety, with its hefty 500-gram tomatoes, fetches top prices for its striking size and appeal. 

Farmers invest Tk 25,000–27,000 per bigha for seeds, fertilizers, and labour, reaping 200–300 maunds of tomato per bigha. At Tk 500–600 per maund, they pocket Tk 80,000–130,000 per bigha, netting a cool Tk 60,000–70,000 in profit annually. No wonder tomatoes are eclipsing other crops here.  

Selim Mondal and Manik Sheikh, local farmers, beam about this year’s bumper crop—fuelled by ideal weather and brisk market demand. 

“Tomatoes sell instantly in the markets,” Sheikh says. Wholesalers from across Bangladesh, drawn by the produce’s shape, taste, and safety (thanks to biotech innovations), flock to buy, shipping to cities like Dhaka. 

But the journey isn’t smooth: unpaved roads in this char area cause vans to overturn, spoiling produce and costing traders dearly.  

This season, tomatoes blanket 300 of the area’s 350 hectares, making up 25 per cent of Pabna’s tomato target, reports the District Agriculture Department. 

Deputy Director Dr Md Jamal Uddin hails the transformation: “Tomato farming on char land has reshaped these farmers’ lives. We’re offering training, quality seeds, fertilizers, pesticides, and incentives to boost production—and we’ll fix those roads with local support to ease market access.”  

Yet, a shadow looms: without storage facilities, tonnes of tomatoes rot each season. 

Farmers are crying out for a cold storage unit to save their bounty. 

For now, “Tomato Village” thrives, but its full potential hinges on better infrastructure—and the red fruit’s enduring magic.