The mint fresh Bangalore airport was, at least for now, far removed from the chaos that the Delhi airport has become. Sunday traffic allowed us to get out of the city quickly enough. We made it to the fishing camp before sundown stopping for lunch en route. Siddhaiya, ghillie unparallel, was sought out and latest fishing conditions were logged in. A stroll down the sandy, rocky beach felt good. The warm evening breeze, the Kaveri flowing ever so gently and then the music of the rapids from both upstream and down below the temple pool, life couldn’t get better! No actually it could. The thought of hooking one of the sublime monsters in this setting . . . .! That would be the ultimate joy.

The evening was spent unpacking the fishing gear and getting ready for an early morning departure.

My plan was to go upstream and cover all the pools over the next couple of days to assess the condition of the river.
At Kaveri, I prefer to use my Shakespeare big water, 10 ft heavy rod with Daiwa Emcast 6000 or Fin Nor OS reel. 40lb Berkley Trilene big game line and Owner 7/0 hook makes me comfortable. In any other river I would not use 20lb + line but the razor sharp volcanic rocks make Kaveri fishing a very different proposition altogether.

Over dinner we met Jo, Gary, Shah – anglers from different parts of the world who find Kaveri fishing enjoyable enough to return year after year. The conversation invariably centers around fishing updates since we last met.

I didn’t need the alarm to wake me up at 5.00 am. Vinay was peacefully sleeping but when coffee was ready, he was up in a flash. I checked the atmospheric pressure and it showed a healthy 28.60 in/ and rising. I am saddled with a watch which still is in the FPS scale. Over the last few years, we have started logging weather conditions like air temperature, water temperature, pressure along with the catch and have some fantastic data.

We hit the water at 7.00. The sun was up and the sky was shinning bright and blue. Two rods were out, one with chilwa and the other with ragi. We were soon into fish but not mahaseer. The morning was spent reeling in the white kaveri cat fish. We changed spots, changed pools but the omnipresent cat fish were all around us. By 10.30 am we decided to end the morning session.

The afternoon session was not much different but I got a couple of blue-fin mahaseers, under 10lbs though, and was back by 7.00pm.
The next day we fished down river and it went very much like the previous day, lots of cat fish and some baby mahaseers between 5-10lbs.
On the third morning I had a 15+ on ragi in a rapid on a light rod and it fought like a tiger. There were some sharp jagged rocks sticking out of the water which made the fight interesting and the rapid added another dimension to it. More cat fish followed and we were back for a late lunch.

I decided to fish the afternoon session from my favorite island near our camp. There are some small interesting islands formed by a group of rocks jutting out but this one had a small sandy beach also. Cat fish and brat sized mahaseer kept us entertained and then I enjoyed a beautiful sunset. Siddhaiya had thoughtfully packed a flask of hot tea which was like an elixir. In the distance I could hear the Dhol (wild dog) whistle which is their gathering call. In the jungle very few animals dare tangle with the Dhol. They hunt down deer, antilopes by chasing them over long distances till the fatigued animal can go no more. One by one the stars made their appearance. One could hear the river but in the gathering darkness, not see much. There are crocs in the river but we had not heard of any encounter with humans but still from the sandy beach I got back into the coracle and kept the rod on my side with the right hand resting on it. It was around 7.30 pm when the rod suddenly came to life. Like a bucking stallion it reared up and went into a wild dance before I could get a grip on it. I hit once and then again, tightened the drag and positioned the fighting butt. The darkness added a new variable. The fish felt nice and heavy, from the faint glow of light from the camp I could make out the heavy rod had a nice bend. I knew that there were no rocks close by but I was apprehensive about a few sunken logs on the left hand side. Siddhaiya was excited and wanted to ensure that the drag was not overtly tight, I had lost a big fish from the same spot the previous year and he was as determined that we land this one. Inch by inch I gained on her, pumping ever so often and then she would start peeling off the heavy 40lb line again. This went on for about half an hour or so till her runs became shorter and shorter. A couple of short runs later she was safely in Siddhaiya’s arm’s. Weighing the fish in the dark between the two of us was a bit of a challenge but it tipped the scale at about 35.

Rowing back in the darkness was never more pleasurable.

The previous day was spent in getting ground and hook bait ready.
An entire book can be put together describing the variety of ground bait that I am aware of which may roughly be 5% of all ground bait used by anglers in Bengal. And then there are hook baits.

The basic ground bait is 1 kg Ekangi/Ekanki,( bark of a certain tree and very fragrant, like cinnamon), 50 grams of green cardamom, bay leaf, 1 kg grated coconut, 1.5 liter of coconut oil/ ghee (clarified butter), 250 grams sugar.

The Ekangi and whole garam masala is gently roasted over low heat till it turns golden brown and then cooled and ground finely. The grated coconut too is roasted over low flame, till fully dry and cooled. Oil/ghee is heated and both the roasted ingredients are added. Cooked over low flame till the fat leaves the mixture the sugar is then stirred in. Once fully cooled the gooey mixture is stuffed into a plastic jar. The mixture does not cover more than half the jar and topped off with rum, yes RUM, till the mixture is fully covered. Left aside in a warm dry place, but not directly under the sun, for 6-8 weeks, ensuring that the rum is periodically topped off so that the mixture never comes is contact with air. In about 8 weeks your basic ground bait is ready. When you have to bait a swim, mix this ground bait with about 2/3 kg of powdered mustard cake, roasted till golden brown. Make the entire mixture into golf ball sized roundels and use.

Anyway, next morning we reached the lake at about 8.00 am. It was a beautiful 10 odd acre lake with an island in the middle. There was an old temple in ruin with trees and creepers all over the brick work. The lake was clean and the water was deep and dark. I tested the depth before ground baiting. There were overhanging branches from some really old mango trees providing shade from the blazing sun, a couple of cormorants were busy fishing, a common kingfisher was keeping vigil and a light breeze was forming ripples in the water. I could see some big carps move towards my left between lily pods.

I got three rods ready and made the bread paste hook bait. Once all three rods were in the water, I checked the time; 8.25 am!

Within the next half an hour I could see the presence of fish in the swim. At such times, the body goes taut, lips and throat dry in anticipation, imagination plays games with the mind. However since I got into catch and release, I am much more relaxed as the fear of loosing a fish is gone. I guess I am a better angler for that.

Soon the float started to quiver and then was bobbing ever so gently. This gentle dance went on for about a quarter of an hour and then woosh! the float went under: HIT! The reel started singing as the line started to peel off. Fish on! After about 50 yards of mad rush, the fish turned left Рtowards the island. I could see branches from sunken trees sticking out and the lily pod was not too far away. Too many snags to handle with a 8lb line. As the fish was still moving rapidly, I dropped the rod towards the right, which had the desired effect – the fish turned. The next 15 odd minutes saw the fish being reeled in to about 5 meters of the shore and then he would again make a run for it. At such times it is critically important to keep the drag loose. This happened a couple of times till I guided the fish into the waiting landing net. It was a beautiful 12lb+ rohu, red and orange intermingled with the silver. It was not until a decade and a half later that I was onto catch and release so this one went straight into the keep net. A very good beginning to the day.

My younger uncle chose a spot under a huge jamun tree and the elder uncle decided to cast from a head jutting out into the water. The choice and selection of your spot for the day is a fascinating task. Years of being at the water front and then one’s own gut feel went into deciding. Years of carp fishing gave me some understanding of reading the water and it is a pleasurable activity even when you are not carrying a rod.

As this was a private lake there was nobody else in sight.

The ground bait was soon ready and into the water some 15-20 feet away, the durrie spread out, the rods readied and the hook bait put, bread paste kneaded together with all other ingredients. The rest of the hook bait stored in an air tight container to be used for the rest of the day. One by one all three lines were in the water and the rods in the rod holder. Then the wait began.

On the far side, I could see my younger uncle reeling in some decent sized Rohu’s. We had also started to get a few nibbles and line bites. Suddenly one of the floats was bobbing like mad before going down and the centre pin reel began singing. Fish on! The two-piece pale blue fiber glass rod had a nice bend. About 30-40 meters of 8 lb mono (or was it mono then) peeled off effortlessly when my uncle handed over the rod to me. Before I could realize what was happening, with a huge flock of butterflies flapping like mad in my stomach, blood racing at 100mph and heart pumping so violently that I am sure everyone in the vicinity heard it, I was landing my first fish with rod and reel.

It was a beautiful 3 lb catla. The pat on the back is still a vivid memory.

A few light bulbs were glowing against the backdrop of an ink blue sky.

Spinning for Mahseer

The quaint, sleepy railway station was wet from the previous night’s rain. There was an early morning chill in the air, typical of the Himalayan foothills. I made my way through the crowd of cab drivers trying to grab their next fare, located the camp Gypsy by the name painted on the side, before  I saw Balam Da, who was going to drive me to the camp. One cheerful shake of the hand, bags stowed away at the back and we were off. As soon as we drove out of town and into the open, the piercing chilly wind took over the open Gypsy. A half hour later we were knocking on Vinay’s door. One bear hug later, Vinay’s belongings finding space at the rear, we were off again. Conversation is difficult in an open Gypsy, anyway we had 5 days in together to catch up. An hour later, with 4 WD in operation, we scampered up the last km into the camp. The dogs gave a welcome bark, Ritish and Minakshi were both up and it was home coming. A couple of cups of tea allowed us to catch up with the happenings of the past six months, just the major events that is. E-mails and periodic phone calls are a poor substitute for hard core ‘adda’, even early morning ones.

The Sun was out and tiny droplets of the previous nights, rain nestling on the leaves, sparkled like tiny diamonds. The birdlife in the camp is awesome and breakfast accompanied by this glorious symphony is what makes life worth living.

Life takes on a different hue after a good meal!

More chai, organizing the gear for the day, getting the bait ready, packed lunch, water, tea in flasks, everything into the Gypsy and we were off.

Landing a big one

A quarter of an hour later, we got the first glimpse of the river, glistening in the morning sun. The water was slightly muddy because of the previous night’s rain but we knew it would clear up soon. Anyway we would get different water conditions, ranging from muddy to gin clear (vodka clear, according to Vinay) over the next few days. We had to cross the river by a foot bridge and trek a km down river to reach our favorite spot.

From under the bridge the river travels half a km before plunging down a long rapid. Then the river flows down another half a km and into a deep dark pool and again into a steep rapid. We have had some wonderful tussles with the majestic mahaseer in these waters and I was looking forward to a great days angling.

Somewhere from a distance someone called, checking for me, I called back.

Lake Fishing at Bhimtaal

The “bata’s” (labio bata) were on a feeding frenzy and my bucket already held over a score and a few carp brats. The water was dark and deep. A few big carps were feeding near the lily pod, it had started raining heavily, drowning all other sounds except the drumming of raindrops on the umbrella. The over sized umbrella was grossly inadequate in keeping the rain away and I was already soaked to the skin but I knew a couple of big carps were still lurking below, waiting for a chance to snack on the juicy earthworm dangling from the hook  and I was not about to run for shelter.

And then the alarm rang, transporting me forty years forward. Thankfully it’s a Saturday and I could afford to indulge in a little bit more of “fishing” without getting out of bed.

As a child I used to wait for my Grand father and uncles to leave for office and out would come  my most treasured possession, a five foot bamboo rod with “moonga silk” line, an inch of peacock quill float, the smallest hook with a lead weight, couple of inches above the hook.

A small ball of atta dough, some earth worms freshly dug out and wrapped in a piece of banana leaf, a small bucket to keep the fish and I was all set to conquer the world. The short walk to the chosen pond or tank would be covered in the quickest possible time, the spot for the day chosen and I would settle down for the next couple of hours. If it was raining it was more fun. I loved rain. The smell, the feel: and everything appeared freshly washed. And after the rain stopped one could hear nature’s symphony!

Overhead, a flock of parrots flew past, calling. The crows were flapping their wet wings trying to dry themselves as best as possible. The frogs had started croaking. From the overhanging branches, drops of rain water kept plopping into the pond, sending off tiny ripples in concentric circles. Patches of freshly washed blue sky wrapped in whiffs of white clouds were smiling indulgently. The dragon flies were out, flitting from leaf to leaf of the water plants which trembled in the mild moisture laden breeze. My bucket, half filled with water, was filling up with Poonti (rosy barb), bata and carp brats. A couple of hours and I would have 25 to 30 fish in the bucket.

Early morning at Ram Ganga

Sometimes my Grandmother would join in. Everyone fished at home but I always preferred to fish alone, Grandmother, I did not mind, but others would make small talk and I preferred solitude in order to catch the biggest fish in the world or stalk that man-eater in the Himalayan foothills which had already killed over 100 people. That was my world!

I was on that magical mystery tour.