FISHER MONGERS OF CHIMBAI

FISHER MONGERS OF CHIMBAI

 

Full of beans and vitality

Old yet wise

Were fisher mongers of Chimbai

A bed of roses or little sunflowers

Sprung forth they like bright colourful blooms

With 'kashtis' and fragrant 'mogras' tied to their buns

Selling fishes in baskets

In nooks and crannies

And with a great flourish

Would they sell their 'macchi'

As they blabbered with a rough tongue

Called fisher monger discourse or jargon

We'd have to fit the pieces of their puzzlement

One by one as they'd jabber

Through a sunny array of rife and roil

Bubbling with excitement!

 

"We sell every type of fish in our sea kingdom

Bangda, surmai, pamphlet, rawas, rohu, katla

Crab, shells, King fish, Cat fish

Squid, sardines and oyster shells

Bearing pearls of wisdom

Just like our fisher folk grannies

Of our Chimbai village

As you bargained and rallied

Carped, compared and complained

With the fisher monger ladies

 

It seemed for hours

Challenging their soaring rates and prices

Couple of zeroes in rupees and silver coins

But they'd definitely lower their rates

It wouldn't be a bargain for nothing

If sometimes you'd win such a funny spate

Of fisher monger wars in a literal sense

Spar of tongues and words

Instead of spears, nets, clobbers and knives

They'd chop fishes happily

For the price you'd think sufficed

Little crows, cats and dogs

Wouldn't mind immersing heads

In left over tails, heads and even entrails

Of your delicious chopped fishes

 

Would these friendly fisher mongers

And their fishermen husbands

Rule the roost

As they lived in tiny cottages

Their warm and cosy hearths

In narrow lanes of cobbled stones

Sometimes had businesses of selling morning breakfast

Or evening snacks by the lamp lit roads

'Rich hot pakodas, samosas, vadas and bajiyas

Chinese pakodas, bhel and ghantiya too!'

 

There would be a bee line 

In the quaint town

Buzzing and queuing up

Like bees attracted to honeyed flowers

Amidst the busyness and businesses thriving

One would find beautiful statues of

Cross and Virgin Mary

You would find peace amidst the chaos

Walking through its anthem lanes

Where houses stacked neatly one atop another

Stood ornate like counting blocks of Lego 

Painted a Peacock's rich plumage

And through the end of its snaky curvy lanes

Yet could cars, bicycles, motor bikes

<

Advertisement

span style='font-family:"Bookman Old Style",serif;'>Scooters and vans

Pass narrowly right through

Miraculously without a snitch or a scratch

Riding a bumpy stretch

Over speed breaker mounds

 And moon craters called pot holes

Heading right towards Carter Road

And left towards Band Stand

Depending which side you ventured by 

 

At tother end of both sides

Stood the peace havens

Uplifting enigmatic seascapes

And on the way to Land's End

Was Holy St. Andrew's Church

Where people came to pray

And confess their sins

Also to put flowers for graves

Where stood the statue of the 'Prince of Peace and Light'

Towering over the busy centre of its crossroads junction

 

Further would it take you to the seaside shore

As one would sit among the rocks

Of busy Band Stand

To ponder and wonder

The beauty of such a loving village and its people

Fisher mongers of Chimbai

As one proceeded back again

There was a jubilee sale every Thursday

In a circus van only after 7 pm

Selling food and groceries

Snacks, deodorants, spices, sauces

Tissue rolls and bottles without MRP mentioned

At discounted rates

Passersby flocked like a moth to a flame aglow

And like flickering flies hovered over the strange van

To buy from the carts

Precious tins and salty biscuits

Peppers and pickles

Fruity jams one different than the other

Chocolates, peanuts even cold drinks

And beverages like coffee, tea and hot cocoa unsweetened 

Or sweetened

 

As one passed through the quaint village

Fisher mongers of Chimbai

One could see through the many crevices and cracks

And in between buildings by the lanes

The sea and setting sun

Where by day soon nets of fishermen

Would catch variety of fresh fish 

In their baskets, filling boats with miraculous heaps of fish

The morning illuminated

With glittering, dawning stars through leaves

Beams and sunny rays

Its sprightly atmosphere

With its flower like people 

In bunches that decorated the roads here and there

In bright kashtis and mogras around buns

Colourful glass bangles an array

Even gold ornaments they'd love to deck

And stack around their necks

As wealthy fisher monger wives awaited their rich customers

With flowery language

As they'd call out loudly 'Sungta, Kolbi, Kekada, Bangda Gya'

'Jingo ya Jingli Amhi Macchi Mangte' as we'd bargain

Fisher Monger Jargon! 

The noisy market place

Would amuse even tonsured monks

To sell fishes in baskets full of satire and pun

Fisher mongers of Chimbai!