August 18, 2019: A stormy day

The static of the sea played in the background as the fisherman drew his final haul for the day. With a practised rhythm, his left hand yanked the rope while the right hand threw the rest away; the fishing net slowly inched out of the water. Panic-stricken fish and frantic crabs thrashed against its nylon sturdiness entwining into a mesh-y pile. Perhaps on a busy day, his movements would have been faster, the dealing with the dying life shorter – but that day was a stormy Sunday morning at the beach of Thiruvanmiyur and the sole fisherman there seemed to have all the time in the world.

Once the net was out of the water, the man dug two holes in the sand on either side of the net: one large and one small. Accustomed to the salt and dirt clinging to his body, he settled down without bothering to dust himself off and began categorising all that his net had caught. Big fish and snapping crabs in the big hole, small fish in the other while the bits of plastic, bent beer bottle caps and torn polythene bags he gave back to the sea.

His hands worked steadily while the rainwater mixed with the perspiration on his forehead and soaked his faded jersey and shorts. He seemed confident, almost bored, of what he did. Occasionally, his vision focused and eyebrows arched in surprise as he noticed a small cut on his cuticle a stubborn crab had managed to nick. But it would not slow down his pace. The scars on his hands hinted of battles with giant crabs.

Fifteen minutes into the work, a passer-by stopped to wager with him.

“200 for two fish and a crab,” the passer-by said.

The fisherman said he would not go lower than 350. No deal. The fisherman did not seem to mind though. He continued his work until his net was clean and neatly folded to use the next day. After all, it was a stormy Sunday morning and the fisherman had all the time in the world.