Sunrise at the Sassoon Docks
A Journey Through Mumbai's Historic Fish Market
Upon arriving just before sunrise, you are greeted by a grand entrance. Taking in a deep breath, you move between the portal-pillars that open up into another world. Blinded by the saturated colors of plastic crates and saris, you walk through the sharp scent of fresh-caught fish past a man shouting instructions to his associate. Your heartbeat adjusts to match the rhythm of the action.
The market is lying clear ahead on a pier, bursting with activity as sellers are getting their stock refilled. Your curiosity draws you away from the action to explore where the supplies are coming from. You dodge busy trucks and scooters as you follow an empty hand-carried wagon along the wet pathway. Climbing over nets and ropes, careful to avoid getting trapped and falling into the water, you reach an area where fishing-boats linger. On one ship some sailors are brushing their teeth, perhaps both concluding a previous fishing session and preparing for a new one. On the shore others are breaking ice-blocks into smaller pieces that are loaded onto wagons and taken to the market.
As the sun keeps rising, you follow the trail between the abundance of nets back to the road, still careful as not to become entangled. As you pass by the moorings you decide to stop for a chai. While sipping the sweet aromatic liquid you exchange some smiling head-wobbles with workers having a small rest. After finishing the drink and continuing your walk, the calm of the ship area starts to fade, replaced by an increasing urgency in people’s movements.
You can hear the market before you see it. Voices haggling, baskets being moved, and the constant sound of ice being crushed. The sound echoes off the century-old blue stone walls, conducting a symphony of commerce, only punctuated by the percussive calls from the enthusiastic egrets carefully spotting opportunities for a snack.
The morning air grows thicker with the mingled scents of fresh fish and salt water as you approach the heart of Sassoon Docks.
As mindful as you were about the nets, you now do your best to avoid disrupting the fast and busy movements of market workers. Women balance baskets of fish on their heads, men push wagons of ice and fish. Despite your attempts at nimbleness, you receive occasional stares and probably some silent Hindi curses from the hard-working women. Their tools suggest you might not want to mess too much with their mood, or you might end up as the fish.
Suddenly you find yourself inside a circle of bidding for some apparently popular catch. Unable to move, you play along and pretend to be part of the scene while subtly looking for an escape. The solidly built auctioneer stands confident and focused, surrounded by a horde of eager customers, and one stuck foreigner looking for a way out. Deep vocal callings intensify as shoulders press against your back and the ring of people gets tighter – you begin to wonder if this is the 8am version of a mosh pit.
In one corner you find a cross-generational sisterhood surrounded by a mountain of shrimps scattered on the ground. All dressed in colorful saris, they squat down on the wet ground as they work through the endless supply of fresh seafood. Some are practically equipped with rubber boots, others with simple sandals as their chosen footwear. Their hands move at speed while they are methodically cleaning and sorting sea creatures with practiced efficiency. Conversations flow as naturally as their movements as they chat and laugh.
Eyes stare up at you from every surface, the glossy scleras first making them look alive as if they ask for your sympathy – until the stillness of their pupils takes over and empathy is all that you can offer.
Every step you take impregnates your sneakers with bloody water and crushes the bones under your sole. The lovely smell of a victorious morning is also the stench of the night’s fallen.
Almost without noticing the market has cleared out. It seems to have shifted from peak activity to calmness in an instant. The egrets and crows are starting to take over the area, searching and fighting for the plenty of leftovers. You find yourself outside the gate again, hungry but not sure if you fancy a räkmacka or a vegan salad. The day has hardly begun, but you feel like you’ve lived through a week.
