The southwest monsoon has kicked off in earnest, and while this marks the start of the agricultural growing season in Goa, India, it has long been recognised as a lean period for seafood availability in this coastal state.
If the monsoon’s overcast skies and rough seas are not enough to deter fishing trawlers, the well-enforced monsoon fishing ban, which has been in place since the 1980s, does.
The ban was introduced as a way to avoid overfishing and specifically targets the mechanised sector, which includes larger boats with inboard engines, such as trawlers, purse seiners and gill netters.
Another rationale for this ban was to safeguard the rights of the traditional fishers, many of whose livelihoods have long been threatened by the trawling fleet.
To take this a step further, in 2015, through a central government notification, the fisheries department in four states along the west coast of India Gujarat, Maharashtra, Goa and Karnataka uniformly extended the ban period from 45 to 61 days. Besides giving the sea a longer respite from destructive fishing gear, it also ensured that fishing vessels from states with no bans, did not stray into those where the ban was on.
To try and balance the needs of people, the fisheries department in Goa launched a number of mobile fish vans to supply fish during the monsoon months. At present, there are five such vans in operation.
The move was welcomed as these vans continue to supply local favorites, albeit frozen, including mackerel, shrimp, king fish and silver pomfret during the lean monsoon months at suprisingly competitive prices (sometimes barely 5% higher than the wholesale price), and often better than market prices in season.
In the days before trawlers and fishing bans however, it was the weather that determined when fishermen could or could not fish. This also formed the basis of what we ate and when.
During the monsoon months, when meeting their protein demands from the sea was difficult, coastal communities still managed a smaller although continuous supply of fish from artisanal fisheries in rivers and estuaries that became active during this time.
Fishers knew that when the rainfall was heavy, the rivers brought down with them large quantities of silt from the Western Ghats, where they originate. Satellite maps often reveal these reddish brown muddy plumes extending from the river mouths into the Arabian Sea. During this time, many marine species make their way into the estuaries and the bays they enclose to feed and breed.
One such prized quarry during the rains is the mudoshi, or ladyfish. Shoals of this fish venture into estuaries to feed on marine worms and small crustaceans that thrive in these nutrient-loaded environments.
In North Goa, at Morjim, near the mouth of the Chapora river, one can see fishers standing in waist-deep water with long bamboo rods baiting their lines with marine worms or with clams they glean from the river’s mud flats when the tide is low.
During spring tides when the currents are at their strongest, bag nets are set between the cured trunks of the betel palms called harri locally. These trunks are flexible enough to withstand the current, yet strong enough to bear the load of the bag nets which quickly fill up with fish and other debris that the river may carry after being left there for a couple of hours.
During the monsoon months, when meeting their protein demands from the sea was difficult, coastal communities still managed a smaller although continuous supply of fish from artisanal fisheries in rivers and estuaries that became active during this time.
Fishers knew that when the rainfall was heavy, the rivers brought down with them large quantities of silt from the Western Ghats, where they originate. Satellite maps often reveal these reddish brown muddy plumes extending from the river mouths into the Arabian Sea. During this time, many marine species make their way into the estuaries and the bays they enclose to feed and breed.
One such prized quarry during the rains is the mudoshi, or ladyfish. Shoals of this fish venture into estuaries to feed on marine worms and small crustaceans that thrive in these nutrient-loaded environments.
In North Goa, at Morjim, near the mouth of the Chapora river, one can see fishers standing in waist-deep water with long bamboo rods baiting their lines with marine worms or with clams they glean from the river’s mud flats when the tide is low.
During spring tides when the currents are at their strongest, bag nets are set between the cured trunks of the betel palms called harri locally. These trunks are flexible enough to withstand the current, yet strong enough to bear the load of the bag nets which quickly fill up with fish and other debris that the river may carry after being left there for a couple of hours.
This fish is a burrowing goby with the unforgettable Latin name Trypauchen vagina, and lives in holes that it digs in the river bed. They are only caught for a few days when the rains are at their heaviest and the strong tides disturb and dislodge them from their burrows, during which time they are actively sought by those who dare to venture beyond what meets the eye.
They survive for a considerable period after being caught and can be seen writhing in the fishmonger’s basket even in the market. This local delicacy, which despite its repulsive looks, is very easy to clean with just one central bone and is best enjoyed as a Goan ambot tik (sour and spicy) curry with par boiled rice.