Kavitha Muralidharan

Reporter

P. Sainath

Editor

Series Editors

Sharmila Joshi

large_ocean-day-2.jpg

medium_ocean-day-2.jpg

small_ocean-day-2.jpg

thumbnail_ocean-day-2.jpg

ocean-day-2.jpg

This story is part of the PARI
<a href="https://ruralindiaonline.org/en/articles/chronicling-climate-change-everyday-lives-extraordinary-stories/">
series on climate change
</a>
that won the Ramnath Goenka Award for 2019 in the Environment Reporting category.
“It’s past 11.40 this morning, so next comes an update on speed,”
announces A. Yashwanth on the Kadal Osai radio station. “For the last one week,
or even a month or so, kachaan kaathu [the
south wind] was very strong. The speed was as high as 40 to 60 [kilometres per
hour]. Today, as if to help fishermen, it is down to 15 [kmph].”

That’s great news for the fisherfolk of Pamban island in Tamil Nadu’s
Ramanathapuram district. “It means they can go to sea without any fear,”
explains Yashwanth, himself a fisherman. He is also a radio jockey at Kadal Osai
(The Sound of the Sea), a neighbourhood station for the community in this
region. 

As a prelude to a special broadcast on blood donation, Yashwanth reels
off the weather report, ending with: “The temperature is at 32 degrees Celsius.
So stay hydrated, do not go in the sun.”

It’s a necessary precaution, because Pamban now sees far more hotter
days than it did in 1996, when Yashwanth was born. Then, the island could expect
at least 162 days a year where temperatures hit or crossed that 32C mark. When
his father Anthony Samy Vas – still a full-time fisherman – was born in 1973,  that was no more than 125 days annually.
Today, those warmer days number at least 180 a year, according to a calculation
from an interactive tool on climate and global warming posted online by
the New
York Times this July. 

So Yashwanth and his
colleagues are trying hard to understand not just the weather, but also larger
issues of climate. His father, fellow fish workers, indeed the close to 83,000
people in Pamban and Rameswaram – the two main towns on the island – are
looking to them to make sense of the changes.

&quot;I have been fishing from age 10,” says Anthony Samy. “The seas
have definitely undergone a huge change [since then]. Earlier, we used to
calculate the winds and the weather as we set out. None of our calculations
hold good today. The changes are so drastic, they defy our knowledge. It is
also much hotter than before. Previously, it was never so warm when going to
the seas. Today, the heat is making it more difficult for us.” 

Sometimes, the unquiet sea that Samy speaks of, becomes fatal. As it
did on July 4 this year when Yashwanth – who goes fishing on his father’s boat
whenever he can – came in after 9 p.m. with news of four men losing their way
in the rough seas. Kadal Osai was closed at the hour – it broadcasts from 7
a.m. to 6 p.m. – but an RJ (radio jockey) went on air, calling attention to the
fishermen in distress. “We always have an RJ on the premises, even when
officially shut,” says Gayathri Usman, the radio station’s chief. And other
employees live nearby. “So we can always go on air in an emergency.” That day,
Kadal Osai’s staff worked with unrelenting urgency to alert the police, coast
guard, the public and other fisherfolk.

A couple of sleepless night later, only two men were rescued. “They
were holding on to the damaged vallam [country boat]. The other two gave up
midway, their hands were aching,” says Gayathri. They let go, asking their two
comrades to convey their love to their families and explain that they just
could not hold on any longer. Their bodies washed ashore on July 10.

“It is no longer like
the old days,” frets 54-year-old A. K. Sesuraj or ‘Captain Raj’, who earned
that title from the name of his boat. He asserts that “the sea was friendlier”
when he began going out to it at the age of nine. “We knew what to expect in
terms of catch and weather. Today, both are unpredictable.”

Raj seems baffled by the changes, but Kadal Osai has a few, if
partial, answers for him. The station had been running shows on the sea,
weather patterns, and climate change since it was launched on August 15, 2016 by the NGO Nesakkarangal.

“Kadal Osai has a daily programme titled Samuthiram Pazhagu (Know the Oceans),” says Gayathri. “Its idea is
conservation of the seas. We know the larger issues involved will affect the
community long-term. Samuthiram Pazhagu
is our effort to keep a dialogue on climate change going. We talk about
practices detrimental to the health of the seas and how to avoid those [for
example, over-fishing by trawlers, or how diesel and petrol are polluting the
waters]. We have callers on the show narrating their own experiences.
Sometimes, they speak of their mistakes – promising not to repeat them.”  

“Since its launch, the Kadal Osai team has been in touch with us” says
Christy Leema, communications manager at the M.S. Swaminathan Research
Foundation (MSSRF), Chennai, which supports the radio station. “They use our
experts in their programmes. But since May, we have also worked with them on
creating awareness about climate change. It’s easier to do this through Kadal
Osai, since as a community radio they are already hugely popular in Pamban.”

The station has aired
four episodes in May and June 
specifically on climate change issues under the title ‘Kadal oru
athisayam, athai kaapathu nam avasiyam’ (The
sea is a wonder, we must protect it). Experts from the Coastal System
Research unit of MSSRF, led by its head, V. Selvam have featured in these
episodes. “Such shows are extremely important because when we talk about
climate change, we mostly do that at the top or expert level,” says Selvam. “It
needs to be discussed at the ground level, among those actually experiencing
its impact on a day-to-day basis.”

One episode on May 10 helped people in Pamban get a better
understanding of a major change on their island. Till two decades ago, at least
100 families lived close to the 2,065-metre Pamban bridge that connects
Rameswaram town to the Indian mainland. Rising sea levels forced them to leave
and relocate. In the episode, Selvam explains to listeners how climate change
accelerates such movements.

<a></a>Neither the experts, fishermen, nor the station’s
reporters attempt to oversimplify the issue and resist the temptation of
finding single-event or uni-causal explanations for the changes. But they do
point to the role of human activity in spurring the crisis. Kadal Osai seeks
to lead a community in search of answers, on a voyage of discovery.

“Pamban is an island eco-system and consequently more vulnerable,” Selvam
says. “But the presence of sand dunes protects the island from some forms of
climate impact. Also, this island is somewhat protected from cyclones by the
Sri Lankan coast,” he explains. 

But the loss of sea
wealth remains real, and caused by a combination of climatic and non-climatic
factors, he adds. Reduced catch has much
to do with over-fishing, mainly by trawlers. Shoal movements go awry with the
warming of the seas.

“Varieties like ooral, sira, velakamban… have completely
vanished,” explains B. Madhumita, a Kadal Osai RJ who is also from the fishing
community, in an episode aired on May 24. “Some like paal sura, kalveti, komban sura
continue to exist, but in greatly reduced numbers. Oddly, the mathi fish
once found in abundance in Kerala, is rich in numbers on our side now.” 

Another variety, mandaikalugu, that has disappeared here, was
available in tons till about two decades ago, says Leena, an elderly woman (her
full name is not available), in the same episode. She recalls how her
generation consumed the eggs of that fish by opening its mouth and extracting
them. That’s a concept younger women like M. Saelas, though from the community
herself (and a full-time Kadal Osai anchor and producer, who holds as MCom
degree), cannot quite comprehend. 

“Till the 1980s, we used to get kattai, seela, komban sura and other such varieties, in tons,” says Leena.
“Today we seek those fish on Discovery Channel. My grandparents [who used
non-mechanised country boats] would say engine sounds chase the fish away. And
that petrol or diesel poisoned the waters and altered the taste of the fish.”
Those were also the times, she recalls, when women would catch fish by simply
casting a net after wading into the seas, close to the shores. With fish not
found near the shores anymore, women are going much less to the seas.One episode of May 17 also discussed traditional fishing methods and more recent technologies – and how to combine both to preserve marine life. “The fishermen are encouraged to set up a cage near the shores and breed fish. The government is supporting this ‘cage culture’ since it addresses the issue of eroding sea wealth,” says Gayathri.

Pamban fisherman Antony Inigo, 28, is keen to try it. “Earlier, we
would not let dugongs (a marine mammal) back into the seas if we found them in
our catch. But after a Kadal Osai programme, we learned how climate change and
human action have brought them to near-extinction. We are ready to cut our
expensive nets to return them to the sea. And the same with turtles.” “If we have an expert speaking on how climate change affects fish, we have fishermen connecting to us saying how true they find it to be,” says Gayathri.“We blamed the gods and nature for disappearing fish. Through our shows, we have realised it’s almost entirely our fault,” says Saelas. Like her, all Kadal Osai staffers are from the fishing community – except Gayathri.  She is a qualified sound engineer who joined them a year and a half ago, bringing a clear direction and purpose to the community platform. Kadal Osai’s nondescript office is located on a Pamban street with a busy trade in fish most days. The name board in blue bears the tagline Namathu Munnetrathukkana Vaanoli (A Radio for our Development). Inside is the FM station with an up-to-date recording studio. They have segments for children, women, fishermen – and between programmes, play Amba songs – of fisherfolk going to sea. Of the station’s 11 employees, only Yashwanth and D. Redimer still go to the seas.

Kadal Osai

Yashwanth&#39;s family shifted to Pamban from Thoothukudi several years
ago. “Fishing was not a lucrative option there,” he says. “My father found it
hard to get a good catch.”  Rameswaram
was relatively better, but “over the years, the catch has deteriorated here,
too.” Kadal Osai made him realise the setbacks were not the “result of ‘black
magic’ by others but perhaps the result of the ‘black magic’ that we wrought on
this environment.” He worries about the obsession with profit. “Some elders still believe they are poor because their ancestors didn’t do much in terms of the catch. They try to maximise profit, leading to over-exploitation of the seas. Some of us youngsters now understand the dangers in this, so we’re trying to undo that ‘black magic’.”

Still, the traditional knowledge of the larger community remains a
rich source of learning. “What experts often do,” says Madhumita, “is to
validate that knowledge and remind us why we should put it to use. Our radio
station respects and offers traditional knowledge an important platform. In
turn, our community makes use of the expertise provided on our broadcasts.” 

S. P. Rayappan, president of the Pamban Country Boats Fishermen’s Association Pamban, agrees.
“We have always spoken about over-exploitation of marine life and its dangers.
The awareness created among fisherfolk by Kadal Osai is more emphatic,<a></a> our people now sometimes sacrifice imported nets to save
a dugong or turtle.” And maybe one day, hope Saelas and Madhumita, their radio
station will help bring back the mandaikalugu to the island’s waters. 

Like most community radio stations, its broadcasts reach no further
than 15 kilometres. But people in Pamban have embraced Kadal Osai – “and we get
ten letters a day from listeners,” says Gayathri. “When we started, people
wondered who we were and what ‘development’ we were talking about. Now they
trust us.”

It’s only the climate they’re losing faith in.Cover photo: Children at a UN World Oceans Day celebration on June 8 in Pamban, holding a board that says Kadal Osai. (Photo: Kadal Osai)PARI’s nationwide reporting project on climate change is part
of a UNDP-supported initiative to capture that phenomenon through the voices
and lived experience of ordinary people.Want to republish this article? Please write
to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

‘Today we seek those fish in Discovery Channel’

नंदाय मछरी ला आज हमन डिस्कवरी चेनल मं खोजत हवन

‘ఇప్పుడు ఆ చేపల్ని డిస్కవరీ ఛానల్లో వెతుక్కుంటున్నాం’

'ਅੱਜ ਅਸੀਂ ਉਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਮੱਛੀਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਡਿਸਕਵਰੀ ਚੈਨਲ 'ਤੇ ਭਾਲ਼ਦੇ ਫਿਰਦੇ ਹਾਂ'

ഇന്ന് ഞങ്ങൾ ആ മീനുകളെ ഡിസ്‌കവറി ചാനലിൽ തിരയുകയാണ്

‘ಆ ಮೀನುಗಳನ್ನು ನಾವಿಂದು ಡಿಸ್ಕವರಿ ಛಾನಲ್‍ನಲ್ಲಿ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇವೆ’

‘আজিকালি আমি সেই মাছবোৰ ডিছকভাৰি চেনেলত বিচাৰি ফুৰো’

'આજે આપણે એ માછલીઓ ફક્ત ડિસ્કવરી ચેનલમાં જોઈએ છીએ'

“এখন আমরা ডিসকভারি চ্যানেলে সেই সব মাছ খুঁজি”

’آج ہم اُن مچھلیوں کو ڈِسکَوری چینل پر تلاش کر رہے ہیں‘

‘समंदर से लुप्त मछलियों को हम डिस्कवरी चैनल पर तलाश रहे हैं’

‘ଆଜି ଆମେ ସେଇ ମାଛଗୁଡିକୁ ଡିସ୍କଭରୀ ଚ୍ୟାନେଲ୍‌ରେ ଖୋଜୁଛୁ’

'அந்த மீன்களை இன்று நாம் டிஸ்கவரி சேனலில் தேடுகிறோம்'

‘आताशा ते मासे डिस्कव्हरी चॅनेलवरच पहायचे’

Pamban

At present, we can only accept donations in Indian rupees by Indian citizens. All donations made to the CounterMedia Trust are eligible for exemption under Section 80G of the Income Tax Act, 1961. Here is a copy of our exemption certificate.


India is bigger than New Delhi. And people need to know more about the rest of this vast nation.


Younger, media-saturated generations are growing up knowing little about their country, but a lot about the elites of a few metros and towns. For a narrowly-owned, commercially-driven media, the dumbing down of a nation is part of standard operating procedure. The last available data of the Centre for Media Studies (CMS, Delhi) show us that reports from New Delhi account for 66 per cent of news on the front pages of major dailies. The CMS data also found that just about 0.24 per cent of front page news came out of rural India. The TV channels are not much better.PARI exists to change that.We are a non-profit organisation. We publish under creative commons, and do not charge readers a subscription fee or put-up advertisements. Nothing is behind a paywall and we are completely free-to-access by anyone. We guard our independence and receive no direct grants from governments and corporations, nor any funding that could dictate our content. So, we are dependent on volunteer labour, donations from individuals, foundations and institutions that see value in independent and free media.PARI is changing the way Indian journalism reports and documents the rural.India is more than the elite of a few metros and towns. We report on rural lives and livelihoods, languages, communities, migrants and more. We need your help to pull off this most ambitious of Indian journalistic endeavours. The scale of this effort costs money. Donate generously - and spread the word about PARI.&nbsp;

Donate FAQs


Let’s get you acquainted

Welcome to PARI

All our content is, and will forever be free to consume. If you enjoy our work, you can support us by becoming a volunteer or by donating to help fund our work.

Want to republish this article? Please write to <a href="mailto:zahra@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">zahra@ruralindiaonline.org</a> with a cc to <a href="mailto:namita@ruralindiaonline.org" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">namita@ruralindiaonline.org</a>

‘Today we seek those fish in Discovery Channel’

Kadal Osai, a community radio of and for fisherfolk on Pamban island of Tamil Nadu’s Ramanathapuram district, turns three this week. And it's making waves – with climate change as its latest focus

Related stories

A rain-scented walk in Sivagangai

Living on ravaged land

Biswas and the bamboos on his bike

Recycling energy, Godda style

Bhadels of Goa

Pookadai: still throbbing with morning life

Koli Kadlas

Malnourishment high among children of migrants: study

Wheels of the rural Indian West

Living Under a Red Cloud in Bellary

Vedla – earrings of the Maher community

Dreaming of water, drowning in debt

Kali: the dancer and his dreams

Farmer's diet worse than a convict's

In Yavatmal, life goes on

Suicides are about the living, not the dead

Death of a carpenter

Hoisa Shigmo!

Women farmers: weaving a life in Anantapur

Defiant in Dhinkia

Spice and all that's nice

Kerala's Green Army

The ‘jugaad’ not-a-mobile

Health as someone else's wealth

Calibrating in a Kudumbashree assembly unit