Fishing and coastal heritage in Engandiyur, Thrissur (Part 1)

Site: Engandiyur, Thrissur district.

Heritage reported: Artisanal fishing, traditional knowledge, craftsmanship, community, social identity, natural environment

Challenges: Natural disasters, coastal erosion, institutional interference, changing demographics and interests

Researcher and author: Devaki Vadakepat Menon

Access Part 2 here

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Engandiyur has been historically considered as a fishing village by its residents. In 2024, this is less of the case, even though fishing still persists as a major contributor to the local economy. Engandiyur can be found in the Thrissur district in Kerala, nested along a belt of coastal villages. Its most notable neighbor, Chavakkad, is famous within the state for its beaches, fish yield, and Gulf remittance from an early history of mass-migration. Like most fishing villages along Thrissur’s coastal stretch, Engandiyur is home predominantly to the Mukkuva caste of Dheevara¹ people. I meet with Subramanian, a notable Lions Club Member in the village, and Indira, Engandiyur’s ASHA worker², who took me on a tour of the village to explain its changing relationship with the eroding coasts, and activities that once thrived on the beach.

“Our families, I think, have been fishing for over 150 years. Some fishermen specialized in carpentry—the craft of boat making and gear-mending. Some were involved in agriculture, mostly rice cultivation,” said Subramanian as he began his tour of the small village. “When I think of my community, vaguely and historically speaking, the following come to mind: fishing as an art, fishing as a skill, and then fishing as a profession. We had competitions based on fishing, we had reputation boosters, ranks, and respect earned by display of expertise and fish yield.”

“—and the release of boats into the sea are moments I remember fondly,” Indira added. “A new boat entering the ocean was accompanied by rituals, prayers, songs, and dances. Dances performed during the Onam festival are said to have originated from the Mukkuva. If we were in the ‘90s now, we could see the original variants here on these beaches.”

I asked Subramanian and Indira just how influential fishing was to their community. Both of them remarked that “everything” revolved around fishing. Weddings, and celebrations have occurred by the sea, a natural source that has sustained the local Mukkuva community for generations. Games and forms of entertainment have been inspired by waves, tides, and fishing techniques. Even language, to an extent, alluded to fishing being a central part of the community’s cultural and social identity.

“My grandfather was called the thalleyan of this community. This is because when he went into the water, he always returned with the most fish. Thalleyan is a title of respect, I could almost say like the chief of a community, crowned so as a result of his skill, talent, and ability to tame the sea and its creatures. We had many words like thalleyan that tied us to fishing. I can’t remember anything else, not today at least. Of course, these words have died out. We no longer go out to fish as families. No sort of community left around fishing. It has become a commercial enterprise, and as a result of that, all traditions, language, and cultural activities around fishing have gone away in just 20 to 30 years….”

“And why do you think Engandiyur’s fishing related heritage has gone away?” I asked.

“Mostly because the youth are not interested,” said Indira. “Secondly, the sea has eaten too much of the beach. People have trauma with the sea destroying their homes. There are better opportunities for the youth than fishing, so naturally they move away from Engandiyur or forget.”

“Parents also don’t teach their children, deliberately.” Subramanian added.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“As in, traditional knowledge, songs, dance et cetera. Parents here don’t inform their children of these aspects of culture, and the youth don’t want to learn it. It is embarrassing to them. The Mukkuvan is a caste that is marginalized, considered poor. Fishermen are the most looked-down upon community in Kerala. My children are in a reputed field. They are engineers. They will not take up fishing because what good will it get them today?”

“Do you need to take up fishing to continue cultural patrimony?” I asked.

“No,” said Subramanian. “But there are associations. It is very unfortunate, especially to the older generation of fishermen, to see our folktales, songs, and environmental knowledge be rejected by the youth. I have heard of many projects to document Mukkuvan heritage but no two Mukkuvan communities have the same heritage. The songs in a village in Trivandrum are not the same songs my ancestors sang.”

“In your opinion, what has this interruption in cultural transmission affected the most?” I asked.

“A sense of community,” said Indira. “My extended family and I lived next to each other. It was pleasant, waking up to them… doing things together with them. Fishing was a bonding experience. The coast eroded, so we set up houses elsewhere. Many of us could not afford to live together, so we have been split apart. As a result, communal activities have decreased. Living further away from the shore has resulted in less prospects for fishing, too. Many relations have been broken. Some people have moved out of Engandiyur entirely. Generations later, I don’t think many in our family would recognise our ancestors. Nobody knows each other anymore.”

Subramanian also added that social reputations relied on a life of fishing. “‘The Mukkuvan’s word’ was a title given to the Mukkuvan community. It means that when we say something, it is always the truth. We cannot lie. This stemmed from the fisherman’s honesty as a result of the unpredictability of the sea. You can’t predict what will happen to a fisherman on a fishing trip.

You don’t know if he will return. A precarious life means less time for lies. But… I don’t think that would be used today. Many of us are well off, and don’t fish anymore. Others don’t want to risk their lives fishing. So, these phrases lose their meaning. Eventually, it’s almost like the Mukkuvan won’t exist anymore, which is fine because it implies progress past our socio-economic limitations. I would see it as a natural loss of heritage for something better. Still, to many it is the loss of a whole community. In Kerala, social reputations, caste titles, and family associations are very important aspects of identity.”

“Traditional knowledge is very important, I say that again,” Indira said. “It teaches us about sustainable living. Traditional knowledge of Engandiyur’s fishermen is different from other villagers, so it is useful to policy builders and scientists to get an understanding of region-specific environmental data. It’s a historical log of expert knowledge.”

“And that’s also at risk?”

“Of course. At this point, in 50 years, it will be as though fishing never existed in Engandiyur.”

 

¹ A group of fishing castes in Kerala

² Accredited Social Health Activist worker employed by the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare in India