Coromandel Fishers – Sarojini Naidu (Text and Summary)

Coromandel Fishers – Sarojini  Naidu

Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea! 

No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call,
The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our comrades all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun, where the hand of the sea-god drives?
He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives. 

Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and the scent of the mango grove,
And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of the voices we love;
But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee;
Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates with the sea. 

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The Coromandel Fishers  (Summary):

Sarojini Naidu’s poetry is a veritable portrait-gallery of Indian folk characters, living their lives, and carrying on their different vocations against a rural background, which is faithful representation of the Indian rural landscape, with its vividly realized flora and fauna. The picture of India and the life of her masses thus evoked in a beautiful romantic way. The Coromandel Fishers not only expresses the fishermen’s identity with the sea and with the community, but also the folk sense of order and discipline. It evokes a folk-vocation, which is yet untouched by modern technology and sophistication. 

The poem sums up as thus: The early and daily morning song that is inculcated in the hearts and minds of the simple fishing community in the eastern coast of India. 

It calls them all at each and every early dawn to tell the menfolk to rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light for the great catch throughout the day. The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night. They should leave immediately and let them gather their nets from the shore and set their catamarans; a yacht or other boat with twin hulls in parallel free. To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, the innumerable and immeasurable shoal of fish that moves with the warm ocean current; for these simple fishing folks are the kings of the sea! 

No longer had delay let them hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call. The sea is their mother, the cloud is their brother, and the waves are their comrades all. What though they toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of the sea-god drives? He, who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast their lives. 

Sweet is the shade of the coconut glade; an open space in a wood or forest; and the scent of the mango grove; a small wood, orchard, or group of trees. And sweet are the sands at the full of the moon; the light of the full moon lightens the surface water of the sea; with the sound of the voices they love; while returning to the shore they sing in rejoice to close each triumphant day. As the endlessly moving waves washes the sores of the land, they create very thick foam at the boundary of the water and the land. But sweeter, are the brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee; great delight: a song for men’s voices in three or more parts, usually unaccompanied. Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge; an edge or border; where the low sky mates with the sea; the point over the horizon where the sea appears to touch the sky. 

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Courtesy: Manglore University