leaving fishing behind The traditional role for women in the Koli community is to sell fish, but given the opportunity to do something else, the youngest generation is staying away from the marketplace.

photographs and text by Anjali Pinto

Made up of narrow roads that barely allow for two-way traf-fic, the Koli village is one of closeness, trust and familiarity. Although it is located in one of Mumbai’s up-and-coming posh suburban areas called Versova, the Koli village distin-guishes itself by its strong sense of collaboration and com-munity. Every evening in the village, inviting neighbors leave their doors open and make small talk with in the Koli lan-guage, a Marathi dialect.

“Living here, we have the support of our society. If we go outside of this neighborhood we don’t have the same inter-actions, even our language is misunderstood,” says Aruna Chandi, 37, who grew up in the village and is now raising her family there.

Her daughter Snehal Chandi, 14, is in the ninth grade at English school where she is among students from various re-ligious, ethnic, and economic backgrounds. She is one of few classmates that are Koli, a tribe that was the first to settle in Mumbai in the 1100’s and has since been linked to fishing.

The sights in the Koli village are dominated by the fishing business. Salty, drying bombil hang in the sun on wooden rods that resemble a fence surrounding the village. On either side of the street, men are tediously mending blue fishing nets on their front porch. Before the daily auction begins at four o’clock, fishermen run through the footpaths sternly clicking their tongue to clear the way.

In the sand, on the coast of the village, Koli women list off the prices of their catch of fresh fish, squid and shrimp. The auctioneers show disgust if someone tries to bargain too low and women are yelling at each other from opposite sides of the beach. These lively interactions are all part of the ac-cepted culture of the marketplace.

The landscape of the Koli fish auction is dominated by women and is exemplary of the values of the Koli culture. Women in the community are empowered to speak their mind and they are valued for their ability to run homes, raise children, and provide income from the fish business.

the koli village

Previous Page: The Koli village has approxi-mately 10,000 inhabitants and acts as a small town within Mumbai’s 14 million residents.

Left: The Koli village fish auction begins ev-eryday around four in the afternoon. Fisher-women browse all of the sale, but typically only buy from their relatives and closest friends.

Top Right: Bombil, or Bombay Duck, set out dry. This fish is very popu-lar in the Koli cuisine as it is unique to the Mumbai region of the Arabian Sea.

Middle Right: Rani, or Queen Fish, for sale at the Koli village fish auction.

Bottom Right: Aruna Chandi argues with a customer over payment. Having recent-ly invested in a boat, she promoted herself from a fisherwoman to an auctioneer, mean-ing she determines the price of the catch.

Her wrists are decorated with scalloped gold and green ban-gles, her glossy dark hair gathered neatly in a low bun and her vibrant, patterned sari is looped up tightly between her legs.

She could be any of the many Koli fisherwomen in Mum-bai that continue traditions of her seaside ancestors began centuries ago. Despite the profession being passed on for generations, the enduring lifestyle of sorting, transporting and vending fish is in a state of transition.

Snehal Chandi’s mother Aruna and grandmother Shanti had no choice but to follow a similar pattern: be married at 16, have a child as soon as possible, and sell fish to help sup-port the family.

The youngest generation of Koli women in Versova, Mum-bai are replacing the hours their mothers spend bargaining in the marketplace with managing assignments in a classroom. Snehal, unlike women of preceding generations, has had the opportunity to continue her education in place of beginning work at a young age.

The Indian government has provided free education to all children up to the tenth grade since 2005 and members of the Koli community have reserved seats in schools and gov-ernment jobs. These efforts to improve literacy and raise edu-cational standards have helped young Koli women, but there are still obstacles to becoming better educated.

In order to reserve a place for Snehal in the public school she attends, her mother had to sell her gold and pay an 11,000 rupees (160 euro) entrance fee to a school fundraiser. The average fisherwoman makes 300 rupees a day.

“My children will enjoy the fruits of their education. I look forward to them having an easier life than me,” says Aruna.

Snehal not only is pardoned of the responsibility to care for a family as a teenager, but she is also given the opportunity to make choices. She relies on her family, but she can be her own person. Brightly colored t-shirts and snug blue jeans worked their way into the closet she shares with her parents without much argument.

“We don’t fight about her Western dress because it’s part of the modern age. We have to go along with it. Even her grandmother doesn’t object to the way she dresses because she feels Snehal is part of a new generation,” says Aruna.

a new generation

Left: Shanti Chandi does not know her birthday but she is approximately 60 years old. She was only educated through age of 9 and began full-time work at 16. She became a widow at 35 and raised her four children soley on the fishing business. Center: Aruna Chandi, 37, met Shanti’s son one month before her wedding, at their engagement par-ty. She terminated her education at 16 to get married and start work. She is the mother to two children. Right: Snehal Chandi, 14, hopes to go to col-lege and become an engineer. Her Koli heritage is prevalent in her home life, where she lives in a two bedroom flat with seven family members, but her tastes in food, music, dress and career are much different than the women that came before her.

Left: Gold is a significant part of life as a Koli fisher-woman. It is an accessory that describes both financial security and when paired with green, a married status. “Gold is our bank balance, our savings,” says Shanti Chandi, who like most Kolis in Versova, has never had a bank account. Both Aruna and Shanti sold significant amounts of gold to buy a fishing boat that will help support the family and finance educational costs.

“My children will enjoy the fruits of their education. I look forward to them having an

easier life than me.” - Aruna Chandi, 37

“I have struggled in this businessand I would like

my grandchildren to have a more modern life.”

- Shanti Chandi, 60

During the monsoon season, small fishing boats can not man-age to go out on the turbulent sea and fisherwomen are forced to buy from large, commercial boats at the docks in the center of Mumbai. By train, the roundtrip journey between Verso-va and the city center is 50 kilometers and takes two hours. Rickshaw drivers often refuse to transport fisherwomen who want to go home because of the smell of their fish.

Hardships are part of the life in the fishing business. Chang-es in weather, pollution, and the technology of fishing have all made life as a saleswoman in the market more difficult.

“When I used to come to the market with my mother when I was a girl, the business was much better than it is now,” says Shanti Chandi. People from other regions of India have poured into Mumbai for better job opportunities, and with the influx there arose door-to-door fish salesmen. The in-crease in competition has made the Koli business inconsis-tent. Shanti, like many other Koli fisherwomen, continues to sell fish the way her mother did - on a small platform and cleaning the fish by hand as people buy. This way of life will be lost to increasing modernization of India.

“We sit in the fish market with small wooden planks, but the business is now going to become more high-tech and the market will be replaced with malls,” says Aruna. The Koli people are slowly loosing their traditional work, but the Chandi family feels no sorrow with the knowledge that the young women of the family will persue other things.

“I have struggled in this business and I would like my grandchildren to have a more modern life,” says Shanti. With higher education as a possibility for the first time in the fam-ily’s lineage, her grandchilden are apt to fufill her wish.

a changing business

“I want to be an engineer, to do

something for my mommy, for my

parents. I want to stay here for my

family.” - Snehal Chandi, 14

For the eight hours her mother and grandmother are earning, Snehal Chandi is spending time and energy to be an excellent student. She wakes up at half-past seven in the morning to get dressed in her khaki, pin-striped school uniform and tie.

She rushes off to the bus and is not back until 1 p.m., with enough time for lunch and a bit of rest before she is off to after-school tutoring. From 4-9 p.m. she is among ten other Koli students that pay 900 Rs. (13 euro) a month to get a richer education than what is offered in public school.

Although her parents want her to have the freedom to choose her future job and develop her individual interests, she is still sheltered in ways that her non-Koli are free.

“They can go out and do anything without asking permis-sion,” Snehal says, “but, I need to come home and ask to go out. They go to the movies or out shopping. If it’s not nearby, the answer for me is usually no.”

Some aspects of the future of Snehal’s life are uncertain - what college she will be able to attend, where she will find a job, if she will marry within the Koli community, but she has an idea of her future.

“I want to be an engineer, to do something for my mom-my, for my parents. I want to stay here for my family,” she says.

The Koli fisherwomen are happy to see their children leave the profession behind, but will not let the community life-style of the Koli village be abandoned. And for Snehal, that is a shared desire.

“It will be okay if she gets a job outside Versova and outside the fishing business, as long as she still comes home at the end of the day,” says Aruna.

coming home