Indian-administered Kashmir

Fishermen Urge Preservation of Traditional Profession in Kashmir

Publication Date

Fishermen Urge Preservation of Traditional Profession in Kashmir

Publication Date

GHATGOPALAN, INDIAN-ADMINISTERED KASHMIR – Mohammad Shaban Khuroo, a middle-aged fisherman, routinely stays overnight in a boat in India’s largest fresh water lake to catch fish.

Khuroo, who lives in Ghatgopalan, a village in Kashmir’s Baramulla district,says he and the other fishermen bring all the materials necessary to cook food and to keep warm during their nights out on Wular Lake.

“Sometimes, we remain out for days together,” he says.

After catching a sufficient number of fish, they return to land.

“Next morning, we sell it to a local trader,” he says.

He says it’s hard work staying out on the lake all night, especially during the winter.

 

His wife, Sonmali Begum, sits next to him. She says that her husband goes out on the lake to fish irrespective of the weather.

“This is his routine work, irrespective of summer or winter or rough or harsh weather,” she says. “He goes out, sits in his boat throughout night, catches fish and then sells them the next day.”

But the fishermen don’t reap all the profits.

“The trader pays us 60 rupees ($1.18) per kilo,” he says. “He in turn sells it to customers at a rate of 150-200 rupees ($3 to $4) per kilo.”

Khuroo says that profits decline during the winter.

 

“Production of fish declines during winter season, especially January and February,” he says. “Later on, its production increases.”

Begum says that the construction of fish ponds would enable fishermen to work more in the winter.

“We would cultivate fish, sell them during winter months and earn our livelihood,” she says. “But since we don’t own land, so we can’t do this.”

Several decades ago, the government provided each family in the village with two kanals, or about a quarter acre of land, she says. Half of the land was for constructing houses, and the other half of the land is for cultivation.

“But it is not in our name,” Begum says of the land.

They are not allowed to build any ponds on the land designated for cultivation.

“We pay 25 percent of production to government as tax annually,” she says. “We can’t construct houses on the land we are using for cultivation purpose. So we can’t even dig a pond and use it for fish rearing.”

Of the 100 households in their village, Khuroo says most residents earn their livings by fishing.

“Almost every second person in village has a fishing license for protected waters issued by government,” he says. “A license fee of 450 rupees [($9) per] year is charged per person.”

He says that there are various types of fish that they are permitted to catch in protected waters, including Kashmiri, Punjabi and carp.

“Fishing isn’t allowed in a reserve, and we aren’t allowed to catch trout fish,” he says, quoting the license agreement. “It is also prohibited to catch a fish less than five inches in size. In case we do, we have to set it free as per the guidelines.”

The license permits them to use various fishing tools, but there are limits to how many fish they are allowed to extract.

“Though it is mentioned in the license that government allows 20-meter round-shaped net, but in practice it is completely banned,” he says.

This type of net could catch 30 kilograms in one night, but this exceeds the limit. Still, he says many fishermen break this rule.

“There are fishermen who lay more than one such net at a time,” he says. “As such, the same isn’t allowed though mentioned in the license. Violators can be punished and charged with a fine of 10,000 rupees [$200].”

 

Khuroo says that there are also many fishermen who operate without a license.

“Some aren’t even from this profession but use different methods to catch fish in nearby protected waters,” he says.

 

Between low trade rates and illegal competition, many fishermen’s profits are low.

Begum therefore works as a carpet weaver to supplement her husband’s earnings from fishing in order to support their seven children – four daughters and three sons.

“Poverty forces us to carpet weaving,” she says, adding that it’s a grueling profession. “We have no land, and weaving comes with a big price. It often leads to health-related issues like backache, affects eyesight and likewise.”

Khuroo, who learned the fishing trade from his wife’s family, has been practicing it for the last 17 years.

“Before that, I was busy with my studies,” says Khuroo, who studied up to the 10th grade. “Later, I worked as a laborer for some time and then joined fishing.”

While Khuroo and Begum’s youngest children are in school, some of the older ones help their mother with weaving. One son assists his father in fishing, but Khuroo says he doesn’t want his son to adopt his profession as source of livelihood.

“I don’t wish my son to do fishing, as it is not paying,” he says. “I want him to do other work.”

 

Kashmiri communities built around catching and selling fish say that low profits, harsh winter weather, a declining fish population and lack of government support have made it a trying profession. Witnessing the difficulties faced by their parents in this livelihood, many youth are rejecting the traditional fishing profession. Government officials have announced various schemes this month to boost the fishing industry, but local fishermen say the programs either don’t apply to them or that they aren’t aware of them.

There are 11,500 registered fishermen in Jammu and Kashmir state, announced Ajaz Ahmed Khan, state minister of the Department of Fisheries, last month. In 2011, production of fish reached an all-time high of nearly 20,000 tons, according to a statement Khan released this month.

Rubina Bano,Khuroo and Begum’s neighbor, says her husband is also a fisherman. She says the profits are unreliable.

“It is our destiny whether we get good money or not,” she says. “Generally, traders pay us a meager amount. We are left high and dry.”

Aziz Ahmad, a trader in another part of the state, says traders must cover their costs.

“We’ve to see our margin as well,” he says. “Once we collect fish from fishermen, we’ve to instantly supply it to various markets and have to see charges incurred on its transportation, other miscellaneous expenses and profits as well.”

In addition to low wages, Bano says that the work is also seasonal. Her husband looks for other work during the harsh winters here.

“During winters, especially from December to February, he works as a laborer,” she says.

Another local resident, Misra Begum, a common name here, is also married to a fisherman. But she says that their family is hardly able to make a decent living from his profession.

“Government has ignored us,” says Begum, who is in her late 30s. “We aren’t aware of any rehabilitation scheme that government offers us.”

Miles away, residents of Dugpora, a village on the outskirts of Srinagar, Kashmir’s summer capital, speak of similar woes. They say that the various challenges they face catching and selling fish are dissuading youth from carrying on the traditional profession.

Abdul Ahad Dar, a middle-aged fisherman, has been involved with fishing since his childhood.

“This is our profession,” says Dar, who fishes at Dal Lake. “It has been handed over to us from our ancestors.”

But he says that his son isn’t interested in it. Dar says that many youngsters, like his son, don’t find fishing “paying and honorable.”

“Nor has government done enough for welfare and promotion of fishermen,” he says. “Fish, too, have declined.”

Jan Begum, another local resident who is in her early 50s, says the outlook for this traditional profession looks bleak.

“Soon this profession will end,” she says. “New generation isn’t interested in it.”

Like Dar, she has also been associated with fishing since childhood. She says that she and other women used to travel far and wide to sell the fish the men in the community caught, returning late in the evening or even staying overnight. 

“Almost everyone in the area, comprising of over 100 households, were engaged with this activity until recent times,” she says. “Men used to catch fish, and women used to sell them. Women used to carry fish in wicker baskets over their heads and sold them in various markets and surrounding areas.”

Today, several fisherwomen can still be seen lined up on Amira Kadal, the busiest bridge in the heart of Srinagar. Dressed in traditional attire, these women come mostly from the outskirts of the city to sell their fish. In between sales, they puff hookah.

Jan Begum used to regularly sell fish at the bridge. But in the last couple of years, she has restricted herself to areas closer to home because of her health and age.

“Now, I occasionally go there to sell fish, especially on festivals,” she says. “Usually, I travel to nearby areas.”

But she says that there aren’t many young people replacing her.

“Over last 10-15 years, this trade received a setback,” she says. “And our youth started opting for other alternatives, as they didn’t find it profitable.”

She says that while not many local residents in her generation are literate, younger community members are receiving an education and no longer want to continue with this trade.

“We are witness to various problems that our elders faced while being in this trade,” says 21-year-old Adil Ahmad. “They used to be out of places for days together. They went out despite all odds.”

He says that their elders faced adverse weather conditions and still could barely earn enough to make ends meet.

“They lacked facilities like going to schools and likewise,” he says. “We want to live differently and have more facilities and earn more profits.”

Khuroo says that the best solution is for the state government to build fish farms or fish ponds. There are nearly 200 trout ponds and 800 carp ponds in the state, according to Khan’s March press release. But local fishermen say ponds are only for government use and therefore do not benefit them.

Khan also noted in the press release that the government is developing fish markets and hatcheries across the state. Registered fishermen can benefit from these schemes, but many local fishermen say they are unaware of the schemes in order to register for them or are wary of doing so because of corruption.

The minister’s March press release stated that the National Fisheries Development Board has designated 23.7 million rupees ($466,000) for the current fiscal year to upgrade infrastructure. He also noted that Manasbal Trout Feed Mill – a project costing 100 million rupees ($2 million) – would be operational by April to boost trout production in state and ensure availability of feed to government and private fish farms.

Last month, he announced government plans to implement various developmental schemes this year to boost the private sector. For example, the government has built more than 2,100 residential houses for registered fishermen, and 340 more are under construction.