Geetanjali Krishna: Men, their boats and the sea

PEOPLE LIKE THEM

They sail 200 kilometres into the sea, five men to a boat, in search of bigger and better fish. Often, their boats leave the shore at night to return only the next morning, for night time is the best time to catch big fish. All too often, sharks swim alongside in the darkness of the night, gently nudging the sides of their boats.

The fishermen know that even a gentle push from these creatures of the deep can pitch their boats sideways "" and can even capsize them. Meanwhile, in their village in Veerampattinam, a fishing village less than 10 kilometres from Pondicherry, their wives and mothers place lit lamps outside their doors to signify that their loved ones are away at sea.

Only when the men folk return, bone tired after a day's work, do they put out the lamps. For even though they work in hazardous conditions, the only protection they have is from their deity "" for neither they nor their boats are insured.

"Actually, only vessels that have been bought through a bank loan are insured. But most of the villagers here buy their boats for about Rs 1.5 lakh with money borrowed from the local money lender," says Muniappan works in someone else's boat to collect enough money for his daughter's marriage. In fact, of the 80 small boats in his village, not even 5 per cent are insured. "Insurance is not important," says he, "we rarely have serious boating accidents here!"

We chat with him on the beach at Veerampattinam one afternoon, under the shade of a thatch where he rests after returning from the sea. Rows of fibre-glass fishing boats stand nearby, and there are nylon nets drying everywhere. He points to a man resting nearby, saying that even though he works in the city, he comes back to his village every weekend to fish. Has he ever thought of switching to a less hazardous and, perhaps, more lucrative profession, we ask? "I've studied only up to class five, and know nothing except fishing. But even if I had the choice, I'd probably still choose to fish. There's nothing quite like it in the whole world!" says he.

Just then, a couple of fishing boats come ashore. The first to reach is the Velraj. "Did you have good luck today?" we ask. Sanjiv, one of the three labourers on the boat, smiles. "We'll probably make Rs 500 from today's catch "" the owner will get Rs 350 and we'll get Rs 50 each." It's not much from an entire day's hard labour, but Sanjiv and his friends still whistle and sing as they pull the boat on to the beach. Often, their catch is better than this "" "in the rains, though the sea is choppy, we've managed to net Rs 5,000 worth of fish in a day!" says he. It evens out, though: "for when there are severe storms we don't take the boat out, and consequently, earn nothing," Sanjiv says. His wife sells fish to supplement their household income. "Even so, life is not easy," he sighs. Perhaps, that is why he is ensuring that his young son and daughter study hard. "At least then they will have a choice... which most people of my generation have not had," he says.

"We know that our job is dangerous," says Muniappan, "we also know we have no fixed income, for one day we get only Rs 50, but another day we could get Rs 500 too! But all our lives we've lived off the harvest of the sea, we don't know how else to earn a living."