How Rajshahi Became Bangladesh’s Mango Capital: A Look at Its 500-Year Legacy
Rajshahi’s mango story isn’t recent. It goes back centuries. Long before the British. Long before trains connected the district to Kolkata. There’s a terracotta motif of mangoes on the 500-year-old Baghā Shahi Mosque. That alone says something.
In the 19th century, people in Kolkata waited for mango shipments from Rajshahi. Especially for Fazli and Khirshapat from Baghā. Back then, they were sold under the name “Nator Mango.” Even in oral histories, there’s mention of mangoes during the 1205 invasion by Bakhtiyar Khalji, when Lakshman Sen supposedly didn’t get to finish his post-lunch mango before fleeing. That exaggeration aside—Rajshahi’s mangoes were prized long before independence.
Now the question is—how did this mango empire grow?
Let’s break it down.
Early Mango Culture: Rajas, Zamindars, and Cuttings from Across India
Mangoes didn’t just sprout randomly in Rajshahi. Kings and zamindars deliberately brought grafts from all over India—West Bengal, Bihar, Punjab, Sindh, Uttar Pradesh, even South India. They built gardens, traded varieties, and gifted rare breeds. Over time, these elite-level plantings trickled down to local landowners, then to smallholder farmers.
By the late 1800s, mango gardening was a serious part of Rajshahi’s agriculture.
One of the largest early gardens was at Raypara in Horgram. At its peak, it was about 500 bighas. That’s huge. What made it even more unique was its variety. Mango types from Murshidabad’s Nawabs, nearly 50 of them, were part of this collection.
Today, only a fraction of that garden survives.
From Royal Estate to Fragmented Patches
During the British era, the Raypara orchard belonged to Padma Kamini Devya, a childless zamindar. She adopted Jitendranath Bhaduri, who leased lands in Horgram, Kashiadanga, and Kathalbari to elite landholders. These new owners set up residences and planted their favorite mangoes. Thus, mini-orchards sprouted across the district.
The orchard suffered two major blows: in 1928–29, the Rajshahi–Amanura railway line was cut straight through it. Hundreds of trees were lost. Then again in 1999–2000, the Rajshahi highway sliced another portion off. Urban expansion did the rest.
Still, by 2010, about 250–275 bighas of that orchard remained. Its Gopalbhog, Rani Pashand, Khirshapat, Himsagar, Kohitur, Langra—people remember the taste.
Other historical gardens in Laxmipur, Basuri, Hatempur, and elsewhere saw a similar fate: cut down for roads, divided in inheritance, or overtaken by housing.
Many are gone. The names of the mangoes remain.
How Mangoes Spread Through Private Initiative
Not everything came from zamindars. Some orchards were the work of passionate individuals. Like Hazaratullah, a physician in Lakshmipur, who in 1948 planted 305 trees from 101 varieties—sourced from Malda and Murshidabad. He donated his orchard to a madrasa before his death.
Some orchards were family affairs. In Baghā, Abdul Majid Dewan and later Suleman Dewan managed a 200+ bigha orchard planted by zamindar Binod Bihari Hajra over 150 years ago.
Others were migrant success stories. In Hatempur, the Jewish Cohen family maintained a mango orchard around Bonpokur (a pond filled in 2009). Modi Cohen, who once acted in the classic film Nawab Siraj-ud-Daulah, was part of this family. They left before the Liberation War, but the orchard shaped the area’s identity.
In almost every Rajshahi neighborhood—Basuri, Harupur, Kashiadanga, Sheikhpara, Saer Gacha, Mollapara, Bonogram, Budhpara—you’ll find remnants of once-great mango gardens.
Rajshahi University and RUET campuses are still full of them.
Why Charghat and Bagha Matter the Most Today
Today, Charghat and Bagha are Rajshahi’s leading mango-growing upazilas. There are hundreds of orchards. Some as small as 10 bighas, some as large as 90.
Bagha’s Bausha, Manigram, Pakuria unions are especially known for premium mangoes. The municipal neighborhood of Bolihar fetches high prices for its produce. From Arani to Bagha—a 10-kilometer stretch—you’ll pass mango gardens on both sides of the road.
In Charghat, nearly every village has mango land. Big orchards owned by people like Ansar Pramanik and Nuruddin range from 10 to 30 bighas. Some trees are over 100 years old.
New Generations Are Still Planting
The mango tradition isn’t dead. In Chor Khoir village in Tanor upazila, the descendants of Azizul Haque Chowdhury planted a 100-bigha orchard just 10 years ago. It contains elite cultivars and continues to grow.
In Godagari, Durgapur, and Puthia upazilas, small and medium mango orchards are still emerging every year.
Even Natore, which was part of Rajshahi until 1984, added to the legacy. The “Nator Mango” label in the Kolkata markets originated here. In Chhatni village, Dr. Monir Uddin Sarkar built a 100-bigha orchard with nearly every elite mango breed from India.
Some of the best Gopalbhog mangoes ever came from Natore’s royal family. They called it Kaluya. Elsewhere, Khirshapat was called “Bhoot Bombai” by Chatmohar zamindars. That local name still survives.
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Final Thoughts
Rajshahi’s mango culture wasn’t built in a decade. It took hundreds of years. It’s a result of zamindari ambition, elite horticulture, private passion, and smart selection of cultivars. What we eat today—Himsagar, Khirshapat, Langra, Fazli—came from centuries of experimentation, travel, gifting, and trade.
Much of it is gone. Some survives. And new orchards are still being planted.
