The Goan fisherman who caught just starfish

Trip: Goa. November 2011.

Goa — the fascinating sunrise and its reflection…

Goa — the empty shacks in the morning… and the lovely wall paintings are so alluring

Goa — the boat that Fernandis once had…

Goa, where the beaches take you inwards into a strange world of thoughtfulness while asking you to remain outside of yourself and soak in all the world has to offer! They fill you with an intoxication that goes beyond what a mere bottle can capture and offer. The beaches there never have the same sunset nor do they present the same scene at dawn.

‘Yes, this is more than just heaven,’ I mumbled to myself as I walked fast on the sandy beach in South Goa. I had my camera in my hands and wanted to capture as many shots as possible. The sunrise wasn’t from the sea here as Goa is on the West coast of India, but I could get a few lovely shots of the sun peeping in from through the palm trees… and of-course, the way the colour on the beach changes. I could see the footmarks of the gulls… as agitated as they are when they’re in search of food. A stray shoe lying in the sand, a bed of small shells that had been cracked and crushed by all the people walking over them, the unpredictable flight patterns of the gulls, the reflections in the sea water captured on the shore and marooned by all the sand there, the walkers, the joggers, the empty shacks, the carelessly flung beer bottles, the boat waiting for its owner, and the fishermen bringing in their lines. Obviously I wasn’t able to keep the same pace and I was surely not able to capture all that I saw.

Goa — early morning confusion of the birds caught on the sand…

I stopped by the father and son who were bringing in the net that they had thrown in the sea the night before and looked at all the fishes that were caught… they seemed satisfied by their catch.

‘So is this the way everyone fishes here?’ I asked.

‘No. This is just an overnight bonus for us. We have boats and we have people who take them far into the sea where they get better and more fish.’

Goa — the fishermen hauling in their nets in the morning!

I nodded, took a few pictures, and moved on as they were busy with their job of hauling in that huge net. Another couple of hundred yards ahead I saw another man, obviously a fisherman as he was fiddling with a thin transparent wire and fixing on it what looked like dead slimy creatures.

‘When will you start pulling in your line with its net and all the wonderful fishes and other creatures of the sea?’

He looked at me silently and went on attaching the bait to the wire he had with him. I spotted a bottle there dug into the sand. This bottle had a wire attached to it that was going out into the sea. It was taut but the bottle wasn’t losing its battle as it was facing the other side and had sand firmed around it.

Goa — the lone fisherman with his unique fishing technique

Goa — Fernandis was busy with preparing his line

‘Hello,’ I persisted, sensing that he must surely have more time than the other pair I had just met, ‘What is your name?’

‘Fernandis,’ he said, and then finally looked up and went on, ‘I just want to catch a fish or two that will give me food in the evening. I don’t catch anything big… ever.’

I instinctively pointed in the direction of the other fisherman who were still pulling in their net and said, ‘They’ll be taking back at least three basketfuls of fish this morning. Why don’t you get a bigger net for yourself?’

‘Bigger net?’ he echoed my words and was silent for a while, ‘Come, sit, I’ll tell you my story.’

Fernandis told me that he once did have a big boat and went out to sea quite often. Then he lost all his money and his assets in trying to pay for his wife’s illness. She passed away and he lost his will besides other material things. ‘But you don’t need to worry about my life,’ he added, ‘I’m not unhappy. You see, I still manage to catch enough fishes for my meals and to pay for the next day’s bait.’

‘You buy these small dead creatures?’ I was surprised to be told that even fishermen buy their bait.

‘Yes, I spend about fifty rupees every day for them,’ he said, ‘and I don’t have to worry about nets and other things.’ He then went on to tell me how he just threw his baited line into the sea, tied it to his bottle, dug it in the sand and then sat down to prepare his next fling as the baited line bobbed on the waves searching for fish that he needed to come to him.

‘Interesting way of fishing you have here, Fernandis,’ I said. We were becoming quite friendly and I discovered that behind the grim looking face there was a fantastic human being who believed in donating any extra earnings he had after he had bought his bait and had his meals. This donation, he told me, went to a small missionary hospital in the area… and he very reluctantly told me that he always went there in the night and just slipped the money in the donation box kept in the reception there. No one probably even knew that one of their benefactors was a poor fisherman who himself stood in the queues of that very hospital to get his medicine when he was not well.

Goa — the bottle that is the anchor for the line that Fernandis throws into the sea

Goa — Fernandis ‘fixing’ his anchor in the sand

Goa — Fernandis fiddling with his bag of bait

Goa — the large rough hands that handle bait dexterously

Goa — the curiosity of a tourist. I am holding the bait

‘What are you doing here early in the morning,’ he asked me, ‘tourists don’t generally come to the beach so early.’

‘I’m clicking pictures,’ I answered and then clicked a few of his. I told him that I was also collecting shells from the beach and was looking for a few starfishes to take back to Delhi, and explained, ‘These will be interesting as we don’t get to see so many different types of shells there.’

Just then he noticed a minor tug on the bottle that had a line flung in the sea and he got up, asked me to wait, and began his slow pulling in of his line. He was working in a rather disciplined way and was not spreading the line on the beach but putting it all around the bottle in his hands… almost like one does with the ‘charkhi’ while flying kites, I thought.

The line slowly revealed what it had for him… and he was initially disappointed to see that all it had was six or seven small baby starfishes. I was actually fascinated to see them attached to the line but also realised that they were useless for Fernandis.

‘Here, take these star fishes,’ he unhooked them from the line and handed them over to me.

‘Thanks,’ I said and then realised that I wasn’t carrying any money with me. I never expected that I’d be needing money so early in the morning and told him that I would not be able to pay him anything.

‘I don’t want any money,’ he said, ‘these star fishes are no good for me anyway. And they will make you happy and a few others in your city will be happy.’

No, I was not able to go back to Fernandis that day as I had a flight to catch but I know that he will remember the photographer who sat down and listened to his tale if I were at all able to go back to Goa and on the same beach in the morning. He did teach me that virtually unknown way of fishing… and I thank that early morning walk on the beach for taking me there.