For years together, we Siolkars would feast on river fish throughout the year, caught from local ponds that were auctioned annually. Mullets, milkfish, perch, prawns, crabs, and various other types of fish were always found in abundance in the rivulet (known locally as Poim) at Marna.
There is an old saying in Siolim that a large mullet (Xevto) could “win” you a court case during the pre-Liberation days — a humorous reference to just how prized the fish was. In those days, young men would spend hours casting nets and fishing in the river, and no one ever returned empty-handed. Traditional fish curries were lovingly prepared in kudnem (earthen pots), the flavours deepened by slow cooking and local spices. River prawns and crabs were considered delicacies. The lip-smacking Caldin made with Xevto, the traditional Samarachi Kodi prepared with river prawns, and the spicy crab Xec Xec were enough to tantalise anyone’s taste buds.
Sadly, all of this has now become just a memory. River fish have virtually disappeared — it’s difficult to spot one even with a microscope. One of the main reasons is the spread of the invasive Tilapia, which has become a significant ecological problem in our warm waters. Whether due to negligence or mismanagement, Tilapia found its way into our ponds and fields through the release of water — deliberately or accidentally — and has since overtaken the ecosystem.
In several states, it has been shown that the blue Tilapia’s high density and aggressive nature have resulted in major changes in the native fish community. Their omnivorous and territorial feeding behaviour means they outcompete and even prey upon native species, upsetting the natural balance that once sustained traditional fishing.
A similar tragedy has unfolded in the nearby village of Sodiem, where the huge invasive catfish, locally known as Tigur, has entered our waters through the Tillari canal system. This predator has devastated the freshwater ecosystem, wiping out native species that villagers once depended on during the summer months. The excess catch used to be sun-dried and preserved as Para (pickled fish), a staple during the monsoons when fresh fish was scarce. Now, that practice is fast disappearing, as the Tigur has replaced the native species, and not for the better.
The villagers refuse to touch these invasive fish, considering them scavengers that feed on carcasses of dead animals, which are sometimes dumped into the ponds. What was once a source of pride and sustenance is now a source of disgust. The Tillari, once projected as a lifeline, has turned out to be more of a curse than a boon. It has destroyed hillsides, submerged wildlife habitats, and inundated thousands of acres of once-fertile fields, turning them into stagnant swamps.
The ecological consequences are stark, but so are the cultural ones. Fishing wasn’t just a livelihood or pastime — it was a part of Siolim’s identity. The joy of gathering by the riverbanks, the communal meals, the traditional recipes — all are at risk of fading away.
It is high time that the village Biodiversity Committees of Marna and Sodiem come together to address this growing ecological crisis. A comprehensive effort is needed to remove invasive species and reintroduce native ones into the ecosystem. Restoration of the fields, now overrun by swampy growth, must also be a priority. Only then can we hope to revive the balance of nature and restore the traditions that defined our connection to the land and the river.