Hilsa Floods Ganges: A Bounty for Bhai Phonta
Fishermen on the Ganges, defying a fishing ban to haul in prized Hilsa fish during spawning season. As neighbouring Bangladesh enforces strict regulations, Indian fishermen seize the opportunity, bringing a bounty of Hilsa to local markets just in time for the festive season.
It’s that time of year again – the time when the silvery Hilsa fish, or as we like to call it, the Bengali equivalent of caviar, makes its much-anticipated appearance. But this year, there’s a bit of a twist, a little dash of intrigue that’s got fishermen on both sides of the border dancing to different tunes.
You see, our friends across the border in Bangladesh have been hit with a strict ban on fishing for Hilsa, thanks to the fish’s annual spawning season. A commendable move by the authorities, mind you, aimed at ensuring the species doesn’t swim its way to extinction. However, over here on our side of the Ganges, well, things are, shall we say, a little less… regulated. And by a little less, I mean fishermen are flocking to the riverbanks in droves, casting their nets with the enthusiasm of schoolchildren on the first day of summer holidays.
It all started with a cheeky rumour that Hilsa, driven by the Padma’s winding ways, were making their way into the Farakka stretch of the Ganges, almost as if they’d found a loophole in the system. Naturally, word spread faster than a buttered scone at teatime, and before you could say “fancy a fish supper?”, fishermen from Basudevpur and Farakka were out in their boats, nets in hand, braving the elements (and possibly the authorities).
Now, it’s not like Hilsa are regulars in these parts. But every year, between mid-October and early November, these slippery little chaps leave the salty seas and waddle their way up into the fresh waters of the Ganges and Padma to lay their eggs. That’s when the fish frenzy kicks in. This year, the buzz started when fishermen noticed the catch of a lifetime – Hilsa galore, some as small as your thumb but others tipping the scales at a hefty 700 to 800 grams.
By the crack of dawn, the riverbanks from Nimtita to Dhulian were teeming with eager fishermen, like kids waiting for the ice cream van. And where there are fish, there are buyers. Wholesale traders, sensing a bargain, swooped in, snapping up the Hilsa for a song and selling them to delighted customers at the local markets. You know it’s a special occasion when the Hilsa shows up right before Kali Puja and Bhai Phonta. Shoppers, usually prepared to sell their souls for a decent Hilsa during the festival season, were pleasantly surprised by the price tags – as low as ₹50 a kilo for the tiddlers and a mere ₹200 for a decent-sized catch. Not bad, eh?
Of course, this fishy tale has a catch (pun absolutely intended). The Department of Fisheries has reminded us all that fishing for Hilsa during this period is, technically speaking, illegal. Yes, my dear reader, our beloved Hilsa are in the throes of reproducing, and the rules are in place to protect the next generation of fish from, well, ending up on our dinner plates. The ban is in full effect in Bangladesh, where the authorities have clamped down with an iron fist (or should that be an iron net?). But over here, let’s just say the enforcement has been somewhat… relaxed.
A report in Ananda Bazar talks about a local fisherman Prosenjit Haldar, in between casting his nets, had a rather philosophical take on the situation. “I know it’s illegal,” he admitted, with a shrug that suggested he was more concerned with feeding his family than breaking the law. “But Hilsa doesn’t come around often. If we followed all the rules, we’d be left with empty stomachs. Who’s going to pass up an opportunity like this?”
And so, the great Hilsa hunt continues, a tale of forbidden fish, festive feasts, and a little bit of law-bending on the side. As the fishermen pull in their nets, the riverbanks hum with the sound of celebration – for now, at least, it’s a fish-lover’s paradise.
So, if you’re planning your next meal, maybe skip the takeaway and head down to the local fish market. Who knows? You might just find yourself a bargain, fresh from the banks of the Ganges, courtesy of a few rebellious fishermen and their tenacious nets. Just don’t ask too many questions about how they got there.
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