Come rain, come shine

Monsoon is the cue for celebrations all along India’s coastline. Contrary to popular wisdom, however, it isn’t merely the arrival of the first rains that triggers festivities. Traditional fishing communities celebrate the arrival and departure of the monsoon with equal enthusiasm.

A great example of this is Nariyal Purnima (or Narali Purnima), a festival marking the departure of the monsoon celebrated by the Koli fishermen of Maharashtra, among others. Decorated boats, illuminated with oil lamps, are released in the waters and coconut offerings are made to Varuna, the Hindu god of the seas and oceans. In Goa, Catholic fishermen celebrate the feast of St Lawrence, their patron saint who ensures their well-being and a prosperous season.

In her 2013 book Khazan Ecosystems of Goa, Sangeeta M Sonak writes about the synchronicity of these monsoon festivals: “The coconut puja, on the day of Narali Purnima, along with a corresponding feast of St Lawrence among Catholic fishers, has marked the beginning of the marine fishing season in Goa for centuries. The rites involve the blessing of the boats, the backwater rivers and the sea for a good fishing harvest and a prayer to Varuna, Lord of the water, to calm the seas and safeguard all fishermen.” An interesting variant on this theme is the festival of Raja Parba in Orissa, which likens the onset of the monsoon to the menses of the earth and the sea. According to A Whitney Sanford’s Growing Stories From India: Religion and the Fate of Agriculture, “The concept of the menses of the earth reflects recognition of seasonal cycles, in which the earth moves through periods of productivity. For both women and the earth, menses is a fallow period, a period that allows for the ‘recuperation of fertility’.”

The ‘fallow period’ being spoken of refers to the fact that at the onset of the monsoon, fishermen avoid venturing into the water, on account of inclement weather. It is true that the monsoon can cause professional disturbances for fishermen. But in their heart of hearts, they believe that the monsoon is good for their haul: in the long run, a good monsoon equals a good fish catch. They are happy when they see estuaries full of water. Estuaries, where fresh water flows into the sea, are fish breeding centers. With traditional knowledge, handed down from generation to generation, fishermen know just where temperature and salinity reduce in the sea; that’s where the fish will flock to.

This is true blue native knowledge, their knowledge about stars, wind patterns, water currents, tides, waves and so on. Fishing communities live a very eco-friendly life and are heavily dependent on nature. Perhaps the onset of the monsoon is as good a time as any to take stock of fishermen’s lives and the crippling problems that they face in this country.

Nearly 70 years post independence, large parts of our coastline are still lacking basic amenities. There is no direct, fair and transparent marketing for marine products. There are lots of under-used and unused water front facilities. In spite of having vast resources and employment opportunities, there is no collective, streamlined involvement of coastal areas in the economic development of the country. The coastal guardians of the country have no political recognition; this is how it has been since time immemorial. One reason for this is that coastal communities are generally egalitarian in nature. In a sense, every individual is at par with another in the community. One does not accept the other as a leader.

However, there is no denying that fishing communities have been actively denied political power. In the 16th century, Christianity penetrated the southern coast and fishermen began to be converted. The church gave education and social status to some of the traditional coastal communities. Unfortunately, with its vision and mission, the church also blocked the political awareness of the fishing communities. There is an invisible net that still assures the dependency of these communities to the leaders of the religion. Religious leaders need to have a hold on these people for their survival.

As a shipping professional, I have travelled far and wide in the country, especially coastal India. To my surprise, fishing villages are the regular customers in almost all upland trade centres nearby. When fish landings are high, trade also experiences a boom. Fishermen do not seem to have a close relationship with the upland communities other than their immediate needs. For them, the sea and the sea shore are workplaces, whereas the upland region is meant for entertainment and rest. They do not bother about who is ruling and what is really happening in the upland which has invisible control over their lives and their mobility.

And so, due to political dominance and power, the upland communities have always had an upper hand over the coast, decade after decade. Due to all these factors, there is — and always has been — a dire lack of political representation and strong voices from coastal communities at the national level.

One could point out the lack of basic education as something that adds to the problem. But the so-called educated younger generation, too, does not want to identify with the community they belong to. As a result, beautiful shorelines are being eroded in front of their eyes. Inshore and offshore, there are no fishery resources. Coastal areas have become the dustbin of the upland folk. But there is no one from the community to question these dangerous developments. No one seems to be bothered.

Today, fishermen stand perplexed and depressed with none to voice for their sufferings. Their hard earned fortunes are being taken away. They are forced to stand facing the sea and the waters, showing their back to the land. They stand as Pattinavar, Palli Maraikayar, Nattar, Karaiyar, Kadaiyar, Muthirayar, Varunakula Muthali, Sempadavar, Odakaran, Parvatha Rajan, Ambalakarar, Valaingar, Valayar, Paravar and so on. They stand atomized and antagonized to each other. They do not connect with their own brethren from neighbouring states. The fishermen are ignorant of their own existence and their numerical strength.

Planned, knowledge-based activism is the way to safeguard the fishermen’s freedom and their rights. To blaze is the compulsion of the times. They have to unite and arise. They have to prepare their society to move towards justice. They do not need any more of the politics of falsehood.

Fishermen also have to realise that the inland communities are their own brothers and sisters. Their lives are mutually dependent. The coastal and inland people are held together by the bonds of national integration. But the inland communities must also understand that coastal communities are as much the rightful citizens of this great nation. To adapt a Swami Vivekananda quote, let new India also arise from the huts of fishermen.

Policy recommendations (BOX)

The establishment of a separate central ministry for fisheries to govern the coast.

Forming general awareness programmes about traditional fishing rights and the government schemes available to the coastal people through various micro-level initiatives like Jan Shikshan Sansthan.

Inshore, offshore and deep sea fishing areas should be marked for the entire peninsular country and fishing rights reserved for appropriate groups: inshore for traditional fishermen, off-shore for fishermen with mechanised boats and deep sea for trawlers. These areas should be monitored to maintain this demarcation.

Bottom trawling operations in the inshore and offshore fishery areas (within 12 nautical miles) should be banned. Local fishermen should be encouraged to undertake deep sea fishing.

Creation of cultural centers for the preservation of traditional fishery knowledge and the cultures of coastal regions is a must. There should be sustained documentation of folk songs, dramas and literature through a Traditional Knowledge Digital Library (TKDL).

Introduction of legislative and parliamentary constituencies on the coast, without affecting the upland communities and their administrative systems.

Restriction of building projects on or near traditional fishing villages and mud banks as per the 1991 CRZ (Coastal Regulation Zone) legislation.

Development of cultural and eco-tourism in the backwaters, without affecting traditional fishing operations and with the involvement of local coastal communities.

All traditional fishing communities should be included in the Scheduled Tribes list. They should be given preferential employment as coast guards, in the fishery department and the state marine police departments.

R N Joe D’Cruz is a Tamil novelist, writer and documentary filmmaker

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