Fishing Boats in Goa

The sun shines bright on the white fishing boats,
Bobbing half-asleep at anchor in the shallows
Fishermen ply to and fro in their dark outriggers
Seagulls fall out of the sky clamouring for food
The fleet is in and the men

Time at last rest allows.

Holidaymakers walk along the seashore
Imprinting memories on the sand,
Finding romance and fascination in
This tiny part of India, still redolent of
The Portuguese, exotic now in this great land.

Not for the fisher folk the dreamy Shangri La
Like the castaways from the Western Hippy era,
They have to pay daily homage to the Sea.
Out before dawn, running against the wind
Cast the nets, reel in the daily catch.

Race before the wind for home and loved ones
Eager for the day’s end, danger left behind
Only those who never venture out to sea
Are fooled by the shy waves slapping softly
At the shore in turquoise tranquillity.

The fishermen and their anxious folk
Know too well the Sea’s dark face
The storms that toss the boats on the waves
High crests before the plunge into the trough
Wondering with dread will they sink or surface.

But to the onlooker, oblivious of the Sea’s
Appetite for sacrifice to calm her ire,
The fishing boats strung white like a
Bracelet of moonstones on the turquoise Sea,
Make peace and harmony appear as her desire.