Everyday Life

EVERYDAY LIFE IN DIU

Diu is a small island spread out in an area of around 38.8 Sq. kms. Most of the island is barren and the  residential areas was mostly concentrated around the the St. Paul's church and the main market. Being surrounded by the sea, Diu has a pleasant weather throughout the year. However, despite this, business in Diu had a seasonal calendar. Peak tourist season begins in October and ends in the first week of January when hotels and restaurants are packed to capacity. Most visitors who come to Diu are from Gujarat although Indians like us, from across the country, also flock in sizeable numbers now.

Outside this peak season, Diu is largely a sleepy town. On any normal day life in Diu begins early, at about 5 am. By 9 pm streets are mostly deserted, except some activity around the small market and on the road that leads to the Diu Fort. At other times, during daytime, streets outside the main town and the bus station are lonely and few people can be seen zipping past in cars and scooters. The serenity of the island is occasionally disturbed by the 'fatfati,' a three wheeler vehicle which is used to ferry people and goods in the island. The thick sound of the fatfati engines transport you to the bygone era of German motorcycles and the second world war. 

In the Hoka resort we saw a few foreigners spending hours reading books between sips of chilled beer. These tourists, we learnt were visiting Diu in January to avoid the harsh winters in Europe and the United States. We were also informed that Diu is an ideal place for writers from across the world who would come and relish the silence that is found in such abundance around the tiny island. The beaches are empty with only some activity seen around Nagoa beach and the Ghogla beach, which is why we thought that Diu could be an interesting and serene getaways for writers and thinkers of all kinds.

The localities we met in Diu are a timid lot, except for the youngsters who like elsewhere remained glued to fancy dresses and electronic gadgets. We met a few localities who offered us distinct flavour of all that is to Diu. We met a lady near the Rukhda tree who informed us that she has a small plot of land and barely manages to gather two square meals a day. Her husband is a fisherman and works in the Jetty.

People in general are soft-spoken, except the few irritating vendors who remain scattered here and there, like the vendor selling tea in the Ghogla beach or in the main market. On close examination you find that many of these vendors are also from neighbouring Saurashtra region of Gujarat. Given the parched land and little business in the saurashtra region of Gujarat, people appear to be irritated of lives in general, which it appears spills over in Diu. Hungry people do make for angry people.

Most of Diu is pretty neat and tidy, unlike other destinations in India. Perhaps this has got to do with the fact that Diu is a Union Territory (UT), with funds flowing for its maintenance directly from the national capital. In a certain sense Union Territories can be seen as interesting places for political statements. By keeping them clean and tidy and maintaining a constant flow of funds and resources, the central government wants to subtly draw people's attention to territories within the ambit of the state and those directly controlled by the central government.

  

THE VANKABARA JETTY

As we travelled the road to the extreme Western of Diu, through the straight road from Nagoa and Gomtimata beach we landed in a conjested fishing village, the Vankabara Jetty. The first site that caught drew attention was a boat construction yard where we could see three boats being constructed. It was early morning, about 9 am, and workers were at the job, an old man chiseling pieces of wood while another group of young people hitting the countless nails that were lined up along the outer body of the ship. The manager was seated strategically along with his assistant, apparently keeping a close watch on all the workers.

Boating ships under construction

One of us went and began conversing with the manager. The manager informed that these fishing boats take about 3-5 months to be constructed and cost a whopping 35 to 45 lakhs each (roughly around 1 million dollar). The wood used is mostly Malaysian Palm which is imported. Some portions of the ship use other varieties of wood but their quantity is small. Indian wood, we learnt were expensive and did not provide enough flexibility to the carpenters. On an average, each of these boats has a life span of about 15-20 years. However, the manager informed that some boats were also repurposed after they had run their course and are again reinducted for fishing. Evidently, the high input costs of raw materials and labour costs were the reasons for such repurposing.

The deck of the ship

When we requested the manager to photograph the construction work he readily agreed and within no time we were on the job, clicking pictures for every direction possible. One of us even climbed the steep stairs to capture how the deck of the ship appeared during construction. Constructing these ships, we found, entailed meticulous planning and there was absolutely no room for shoddy work. For, these wooden beasts were meant to perform in the unpredictable seas. 

The newly inducted ship

After having our fill and we headed towards the Jetty to see a newly inducted ship of the same size. The manager reminded us that the new ship would give us a good idea of how these ships would look when they are finally constructed. And when we saw the new ship in the Jetty we nodded our heads in amazement for it was a masterpiece.

By the time we finished exploring the ship construction and reached the Jetty it was about 10 am and the whole stretch of about a kilometer was witnessing hectic activity. The boats had just returned from the sea as the crew kept busy unloading the catch and cleaning the deck of the ships. Although we appeared to be a bit of a distraction for many of these fishermen we attracted a few eye balls as we went about clicking pictures and conversing with anyone and everyone we could hold of.

It was an altogether different world for urbanites like us and therefore the excitement in us was nothing short of visiting an altogether new world. We were all over the place. One of us got busy talking to a bunch of fishermen while the other entered into one of the godowns of the financers where the sorting of fishes were talking place. Within no time we were almost getting inundated with human tales of bravery, wisdom, hard work and misery.

A large Lobster

Most of these fishermen lead a rather difficult life. The small ships that go for the catch incur a cost of around 1 lakh Indian rupees the moment it leaves the shores. Some return with a profitable catch while many return with a catch that does not even compensate for the money spent for going to the sea. Those days the boat owners are left with little option but to turn to money lenders who lend them with the promise that they would reserve the first right over their catch. The Indian government, to our dismay, never provides any support to this struggling fishermen community.

Workers busy sorting and packaging the catch

Some fishermen said that they so wished to lead a normal life and send their children to schools. But the waning catch and the risky business they were in compelled them to do otherwise. Most of these fishermen bought their male children to learn fishing as soon as they are about 10-12 years of age. "What can we do?," retorted a fisherman, when asked about their inability to send their children to schools. "We have lived in misery and uncertainty and they too will do the same." The heart-rendering tales of these fishermen saddened us. Perhaps this was yet another instance that reminded us of India's poor rankings in human development indices.

To understand the intricacies of the financial dealings, one of us struck a conversation with the financers (who were also the contractors). It was tea time and the contractor offered him tea, on a plate -- a practice common amongst the fisherman community. These contractors lent money to the fishermen and in return were guaranteed that they would receive the entire catch. When we were talking to the contractor, workers were busy sorting fishes. The contractor pointed to the big pomfret fish and informed us that they were for export and their wholesale price in the Jetty was Rs 500 per kilogram. The best of the catch was mostly exported to other countries and the rest were sent to Indian markets.

For any traveler willing to visit the real India it is perhaps these places that they can gather first-hand accounts of how people in India live in their everyday. Unfortunately, most of these accounts get lost in translation when the mediating elite classes perched in air-conditioned rooms try to filter them through their ill-bred and parochial eyes. It was the Jetty that reminded us of what Indian hospitality and fellow-feeling is all about.  

EVENING IN THE DIU MARKET

The market in Diu is unusually small so much so that even before you have counted the number of shops that line up the road leading to the fort, they get over. On one side of the market small shops on wooden carts announce a whole range of street food. 

What's the fun of locking oneself in air-conditioned restaurants in such a destination? We decided to head for one of these street food shops and tryout some sea food. We finally settled in one of these street food shops which is run by Shabuddin, a migrant from Gujarat's Baroda who has been running his business in Diu for several years now.

One of our most cherished desire in Diu was to try good sea food. Shabuddin informed us that the local market did not get good produce because there were not enough buyers. The best of the catch, which is now limited, is mostly sold to traders to carry them to other parts of the country or high-end hotels in the metropolitan cities where they command a good price.

Anyway we tried a few plates of prawns which were not big enough to rev our spirits but delicious enough to keep us asking for more. Afterall what's in a size?

The shops in the Diu market is stuffed with Chinese goods

The shops that line up in Diu town are colourful and contain a wide array of items. Most visitors visiting these shops carry an impression that Diu being a port city could offer cheap foreign products that are hauled up by the customs department. It was surely the case about a decade or so earlier. Today these are replaced by a bunch of shops that sell mostly Chinese goods that are made to appear like custom-seized products.

Beautiful cups

One of the earliest tip that we received from some good samaritans in Diu was not to buy anything from these shops because all these are available in Delhi, Mumbai and Ahmedabad. However, despite these warnings we entered one of these shops to buy a few decorative items -- things that were not very expensive -- just to carry some memorablia from Diu. Perhaps sometimes it is fun to buy things from shops like these, in particular with the women around, who are often the best of window shoppers -- too much talk and too little purchase!

A colorfully-lit gate near the Diu market

The evenings are colorful and beautiful in the area around the marketplace. As you pass through the small market towards the Diu fort, you come across several brightly-lit hotels and restaurants on the one side of the road and the sea on the other side. In between there is a beautifully designed church gate which has a large clock at the center.


As you tread on this road or tread the parking areas that are provided with seats for weary travelers, the lighting of the Gulf of Cambay is visible in the distance which reflects brilliantly in the sea waters.

Walking near the Diu market at night is a sheer pleasure

We took a drive over the well-lit Gulf of Cambay after dinner. The children were ecstatic with so much of colorful lighting around. They were almost jumping out of the windows as their shriek filled up the air.

Even though it was about 10 pm at night and the  town was empty, we decided to drive around the town a little.  We drove around serene stretches with the sea running alongside. Although the sea was not visible in the streetlights that ran like a diamond necklace along the run, we could feel the waves hit the shores. It was an unforgettable night.