In pitch darkness, he carries baskets of fish on his head from boats in Kasimedu harbor to the auction house, navigating slimy and damp pathways littered with fish scales and wet with seawater. It's a third of a mile each way. He makes the trip 40 or 50 times during his shift for the daily auction, which begins at 4 a.m.
Pavadairayan, who is 60 years old and goes by one name, is one of hundreds of workers known as basket men. Each basket weighs about 35 pounds. Their bosses don't trust them: "If supervisors think that fish are missing, they can dock your pay and fine you several thousands of rupees.
Basket men have few rights," he says. Despite the hardships, Pavadairayan says he loves the job because the rest of the day is his own. He spends his mornings sleeping and lounging.
"Many other basket men go out and do other odd jobs," he says. This money is enough for me. Sleeping with a full belly under open skies, a salt sea breeze fanning your face: that's what I call heaven." Pavadairayan is one of around 30,000 people who are part of the bustling scene at the Kasimedu harbor in the southern Indian city of Chennai.
In addition to basket men, there are fishermen, auctioneers, fish hawkers and wholesalers, transport workers, ice suppliers. The harbor itself is overcrowded, built for fewer than 600 boats and now estimated to be serving over 1,000. They have stories to tell about their labors and their lives.
Their experiences testify to the struggles they face — and to their undying love for the sea. Nandu Kumar, who is 65, says he used to be a smuggler. Dressed in a grey shirt and a checkered lungi (a traditional garment men wear, made of light cotton and wrapped around the waist), Kumar is seated on an overturned boat on the harbor's sandy shores.
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