Sunday Morning at an Empty Fish Market
Sunday Morning at an Empty Fish Market
Fish stew at the Howrah Fish Market
It’s 20 past 6 in the morning and I am wandering the aisles of an empty fish market, the smell so overpowering that I am breathing solely through my mouth. The few men I meet in the deserted aisles ogle me as they pile boxes of ice or de-scale dead-eyed herring. The Howrah Fish Market is the largest and busiest fresh fish market in the Kolkata area, but apparently not on a Sunday morning.
The almost unbearable aroma slowly becomes the norm as I wander around aimlessly. The rationale had been to arrive as early as possible in the hope of seeing the market at its most majestic. While looking around at the empty stalls I manage to step in a puddle, and immediately recoil as I feel the ice-cold fish remains lap against my flip flopped foot.
I turn a corner and almost crash into a smiling, middle-aged man who, somewhat unexpectedly, grabs me by the hand and leads me through the maze of piled boxes. Awhad takes me to his shop and proudly presents me, like a trophy, to his younger brother Subodh.
Our conversation is little more than sign language but it’s peaceful watching them go about their morning chores. Awhad descales, chops, and slices a fish I don’t recognize. The smell of ginger, garlic, and chilli rises up to replace the fish as Subodh smashes spices into a paste. Feeling a little intrusive, I get up to say goodbye and leave them to their breakfast but they make themselves very clear: I can’t leave until I’ve tasted their stew. I follow Subodh up the rickety ladder leading to their home. For some reason their humble quarters, somewhere between a tree-house and a ship’s cabin, make me feel instantly at home. Awhad follows us up, nonchalantly balancing the pot of stew on a towel on his head.
As the stew is served a bottle of spirits materializes from beneath a shirt. Big grins all round. The stew is spicy, fragrant and unbelievably fresh, the miracle cure to the diabolical taste of the unknown spirits.
Emerging from the market at 8.30am, unexpectedly inebriated, I found Kolkata had well and truly awoken. I wobbled my way back to the bus station cowering beneath the Howrah Bridge, contemplating whether I had indeed succeeded, or drastically failed, to see the market at its most majestic.