There was a small village on the coast of Karnataka called Kadaluru. It was not on any tourist map. If you went there, you would only smell salt, fish, and wet nets drying in the sun.
For 200 years the people of Kadaluru lived only on one thing - the sea.
Every morning at 4 AM before the sun woke up the sound of boats would fill the air. Men would push their wooden boats into the dark water. Women would wait on the shore with baskets. Children would run behind them, hoping for a small fish to play with.
The sea gave them everything. Food, money, marriage, festivals. When the catch was good, the whole village would celebrate. When the catch was bad, the whole village would go hungry together.
Sagar was one of those fishermen. He was 32 years old, tall, dark from the sun, with hands as rough as rope. His father was a fisherman. His grandfather was a fisherman. He thought his son would also be a fisherman.
But in the last five years, something changed in Kadaluru.
Sagar would go to sea at 4 AM and come back at 12 noon with a net that was almost empty. Earlier, one trip would bring 100 kilos of fish. Now it brought 10 kilos. And most of those were small baby fish, no bigger than his finger.
Sagar was angry. He bought a bigger net with smaller holes, so even the baby fish could not escape. Other fishermen did the same. They bought bigger engines, bigger lights to attract fish at night. For a few months, they got more fish again. They thought they had solved the problem; yet the next year it became worse. Much worse.
There was a day when Sagar went to sea and came back with nothing. Zero. Not even one fish for his own dinner. That night, his wife Sunita cooked only rice and pickle. His 6-year-old daughter, Anu, asked, "Appa, where is the fish?" Sagar had no answer. He sat outside his house and looked at the sea. For the first time in his life, he felt the sea was angry with him.
The same thing was happening to everyone. Lakshmi Amma, who was 60 years old, used to sell dried fish in the market. Now she had no fish to dry. Prakash, who was 25 wanted to leave the village and go to Bangalore to work as a security guard. Many young boys had already left.
The village was dying.
Then, one monsoon morning, a girl came to Kadaluru. Her name was Meena. She was not from the village. She came from an organization that worked on something called "Sustainable Coastal Livelihoods." Nobody in the village understood that big English word. They thought she was a government officer who had come to give them a loan.
Meena did not give them money. She gave them something else - a new way to look at the sea.
She sat with the fishermen under the big banyan tree and asked one simple question:
"For 200 years you have taken from the sea. What have you ever given back to the sea?"
Everyone became silent. Sagar laughed. "Give back to the sea? The sea is not a person. We just take fish."
Meena smiled and said, "If you take all the eggs from a hen every day and also kill the hen, tomorrow you will have no eggs. The sea is the same. You are catching the baby fish before they can become mothers. You are killing the sea."
That night, Sagar could not sleep. He remembered his grandfather's words. His grandfather used to say, "The sea rests on Amavasya. Don't disturb her that day." Now they fished 30 days a month, even on Amavasya. His grandfather used to throw back small fish. Now they kept everything.
Meena did not force anyone. She just started three small experiments in the village.
First, she went to Sagar. She said, "Sagar, can you try one thing for three months? Use a net with bigger holes. Let the small fish escape. And don't go fishing for two days a week. Give the sea a holiday."
Sagar said, "If I do that, my family will starve."
Meena said, "If you don't do that your family will starve forever after two years."
Sagar agreed, but only because he had no other option.
Second, she went to Lakshmi Amma. Lakshmi Amma used to sit on the beach and collect seaweed that washed ashore. She used to throw it away. Meena told her, "This seaweed is gold. You can make soap, pickles, and health powder from it. People in cities pay a lot for it."
Lakshmi Amma laughed. "Seaweed soap? Who will buy it?" Meena helped her make 20 soaps. They sold all 20 in one day at the Mangalore market. Lakshmi Amma's eyes filled with tears. For the first time she had earned money without depending on fish.
Third, she went to Prakash. Prakash knew how to dive. He knew every coral, every rock under the sea. Meena said, "Prakash, don't catch fish. Show people the fish. Tourists will pay to see the octopus, the coral, and the dugong - the sea cow."
Prakash said, "No one will come to Kadaluru." Meena put one photo of a dugong from Kadaluru on the internet. Within one month 30 tourists came. They paid Prakash 2000 rupees each just to see the dugong alive. Prakash earned more in one week than he had earned in one month of fishing.
Slowly, the whole village started changing.
The fishermen made a rule together - no fishing on Tuesday and Friday. No catching fish smaller than their palm. No fishing near the seagrass area, because that is where baby fish grow. They called it "The Sea's Nursery."
In the beginning, it was very hard. Sagar's income fell even more. Some fishermen called him a fool. His own brother stopped talking to him. Sagar remembered Meena's words, "If you kill it, you get money once. If you save it, you get money for life."
After six months, a miracle started happening.
Sagar went to sea and his net was heavier. The fish were bigger. He caught a big pomfret, a seer fish, and a lot of prawns. He had not seen such big fish in five years.
After one year, the sea came back to life. The seagrass grew thick again. Crabs returned. The dugong that had disappeared for three years came back with a baby dugong. Tourists started calling Kadaluru "The Dugong Village."
Lakshmi Amma now leads a group of 40 women. They make seaweed soap, dried seaweed snacks, and shell jewellery. They don't need to wait for their husbands to bring fish anymore. They earn their own money. They send their daughters to college.
Prakash now runs a small eco-tourism center. He does not allow plastic on his boat. He teaches tourists, "Don't touch the coral. Don't chase the dugong. Just watch."
And Sagar? Sagar is now the leader of the fishermen's committee. He teaches other villages. He says, "Earlier we were looting the sea. Now the sea is feeding us. We just had to learn to listen."
Today, Kadaluru is not a rich village. They don't have big buildings or fancy cars but they have something more important - they have a future. Their children will also have fish to catch. Their sea will not die.
That is what Sustainable Coastal Livelihood means. It means the sea should live, and we should live. Not one person, but everyone - fishermen, women, children, even tourists. Everyone together. That is called an Inclusive, Sustainable and Resilient Blue Economy.
As Meena said on her last day in the village before she left:
"Don't ask what the sea can give you. Ask what you can give back to the sea. If you protect the sea, the sea will protect you for 200 more years."
Apeksha R. Tandel
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