(Ramadan — that sacred season when the soul is meant to fast, the heart is meant to soften, and apparently, the wallet is meant to undergo extreme endurance training.)
By Dr Rahim Said
Somewhere in Alor Setar this week, a humble karipap — that modest crescent of dough traditionally stuffed with potatoes and nostalgia — has apparently achieved the same economic status as imported salmon sashimi.
RM10 for four pieces. The same price as those sold at TTDI Ramadan Bazaar.
Let that sink in slowly, like curry powder in lukewarm kentang. No eggs. In fact, nothing else except it’s “pusing”.
That is RM2.50 per karipap. For potatoes. Potatoes, mind you — the same crop historically fed to Irish peasants during famine, now repackaged in Malaysia as a luxury pastry.
One almost expects Bank Negara Malaysia to start tracking the “Karipap Index” alongside inflation data.
According to the viral report, the vendor justifies the price with the term “karipap pusing” — referring to the flaky, spiralled pastry layers that require a bit more skill to prepare.
Fair enough. Craftsmanship deserves recognition. But at RM2.50 a piece, this is no longer craftsmanship. This is haute couture pastry.
At this rate, the next logical step would be to serve it on a porcelain plate while a waiter explains the “mouthfeel profile” and suggests a pairing with sparkling water from the Alps. Let us be honest here.
The Ramadan bazaar was never meant to be a Michelin Guide experience. It was historically a democratic space — where students, factory workers, and families could buy affordable treats after a day of fasting. It was the culinary equivalent of gotong-royong: simple, communal, accessible.
It’s a place where workers rush to buy food for “berbuka” on the way home from work.
Now it is beginning to resemble a speculative marketplace.
The problem is not that vendors want to make a profit. Of course they should. Flour costs more. Cooking oil is no longer the price of liquid gold — it actually is liquid gold. Even onions now behave like cryptocurrency, rising unpredictably and causing emotional distress.
But when a snack that costs roughly 50 sen to produce is sold at five times that price under a canvas tent, people are not witnessing inflation.
They are witnessing opportunism wearing a songkok. Some defenders argue, “The vendor can charge whatever they want.”
True.
But the free market is not a moral shield. It is merely a mechanism. If tomorrow someone sells water in plastic bags for RM5, technically, they also have the right.
The real question is what this says about the evolving culture of our Ramadan bazaars. Even after Hannah Yeoh sensibly lowered the rental of tents to rock bottom prices in KL.
Once, they reflected the spirit of fasting — moderation, empathy, and restraint. Today, they increasingly reflect the spirit of Raya shopping malls — maximisation, branding, and margin optimisation.
Even the language has changed. We no longer say “jual karipap.” We say “specialised artisanal layered pastry units.”
One wonders what would happen if this logic spreads further.
Will we soon see “premium bubur lambuk” at RM25 a bowl because it contains “heritage rice grains”? Will nasi lemak at the bazaar come with QR codes explaining its sourcing sustainability?
Perhaps the most telling detail in this entire episode is not the price itself. It is the reaction of netizens. Some call it daylight robbery.
Others shrug and say, “If people still buy, it’s fine.” And that, perhaps, is the real transformation.
We have shifted from a society that once collectively frowned upon excessive profiteering during a sacred month to one that simply scrolls past it, mildly annoyed but ultimately resigned.
Because in today’s Malaysia, nothing shocks us anymore. Not political scandals. Not utility hikes.
And apparently, not even a potato-filled pastry priced like a mid-range dessert. So, this Ramadan, as we break our fast, perhaps the question is no longer about the price of karipap.
It is about the price of losing the spirit of why the bazaar existed in the first place.
And judging by current market rates, that too seems to be rising sharply.
WE