In a small village in Khulna, Lakshmi Rani Mondal guards the seeds that hold the memory of Bangladesh’s land. As hybrids replace indigenous crops, her quiet mission to preserve traditional varieties is reshaping nutrition, resilience and the future of rural farming.
At dawn in Jhorbhanga, a quiet village in Khulna’s Botiaghata upazila, Lakshmi Rani Mondal steps into her courtyard carrying a tin box. Inside, dried seeds whisper against metal like tiny echoes of the past. She smiles and says, “These seeds remember what we forget.” For her, seed preserving is not only farming. It is an effort to protect heritage, nutrition and her community’s resilience in a changing climate.
Her homestead feels like a living archive. Chuijhal, a local climbing vegetable with tender, slightly sour shoots, winds up bamboo poles. “Chuijhal grows fast and feeds the family when other vegetables are scarce,” she says. Taro plants spread in clusters, turmeric shoots rise from the soil and rows of brinjal stand neatly in place. A pond nurtures fish and ducks paddle at the edges, while a cow grazes nearby. Yet the true heart of her home lies inside, in the metal drums filled with small containers of seeds she has sorted by size, colour and season.
Lakshmi’s journey began in Kopilmuni village of Paikgachha. She left school after class four to care for her ailing mother. Marriage came early, bringing her to her husband Swapan Kumar Roy’s household, where poverty was a constant shadow. With only 61 decimals of land and her husband often away, feeding the family felt like a constant struggle. “It broke my heart to ask for money just to buy vegetables,” she says. “I promised myself that I would never depend on anyone for food again.”
She remembered how her mother and sisters used to store seeds in clay pots. That memory pulled her forward. She began collecting native seeds and planting them around her home. Later she rented land to grow rice. What started as a route to survival slowly turned into a mission to protect nutrition and strengthen crops in the face of climate stress.
Her work gained focus after she connected with Lokoj, a community organisation that trains rural women in seed preservation and eco friendly farming. They taught her scientific ways to dry, store and regenerate traditional seeds. “Lokoj showed me how to protect seeds so they can outlive us,” she says. Today she preserves a wide range of gourds, brinjals, chilies, bananas, pulses, leafy greens and rice. She still recalls the day she discovered a nearly lost lentil variety from an elderly neighbour. “It felt like finding a lost child,” she says softly.
Lakshmi’s quiet fight is especially important as hybrid seeds dominate Bangladesh’s fields. Villages once believed that without seeds there is no farmer. Today many farmers must buy hybrid seeds every season. These seeds often cannot be replanted for good yields and require chemical fertilizers and pesticides.
“Hybrid vegetable seeds do not give good yields when replanted,” she explains. “Whenever seeds are needed, we have to rush to the shops. If the seedlings fail, we must buy seeds again. And then chemicals become necessary.” She shakes her head. “With indigenous seeds, these problems do not exist. They survive disasters, last longer and can be sown whenever needed. We get vegetables all year without going to the market and they are free of chemicals.”
Local seeds also offer strong nutritional value and better climate resilience. Her crops grow through floods, salinity, drought and unpredictable seasons. “Even in bad weather, my seeds survive. That is the strength of local crops,” she says.
Her dedication has had a noticeable impact on the surrounding area. Many villagers now save seeds using their own methods. When others need seeds, they often come to Lakshmi and other seed keepers, who frequently share them without charge.
The rise of hybrid seeds has pushed many indigenous vegetables, fruits and grains toward disappearance. In this context, women like Lakshmi are playing a crucial role. They conserve biodiversity while reducing farmers’ dependence on seed companies.
Sohanur Rahman, Executive Coordinator of YouthNet Global, says, “Lakshmi is not only saving seeds, she is saving the soul of Bangladesh’s agriculture. Her work strengthens nutrition, protects traditional knowledge and builds climate resilience. Women like her are frontline defenders of our food heritage.”
Lokoj hosts annual seed fairs to honour women seed keepers. Lakshmi has won first place four times and secured third place this year. In 2017, she received the Upazila’s Best Female Farmer Award. Age has slowed her but not stopped her. She still carries pitchers of water from the pond to her garden. “My body hurts, but my heart tells me to continue,” she says. She hopes that one day she might have a small water pump to ease her work.
As evening settles over Jhorbhanga, Lakshmi walks slowly through her garden, touching the leaves of plants grown from seeds she protected with her own hands. She worries about losing even one variety. “A lost seed is a lost memory,” she says. “And a lost memory is a lost nation.”
Her quiet persistence is a reminder that Bangladesh’s future food security, nutrition and climate resilience may depend on the seeds its people choose to protect today.
