It was a fishermen’s village. Many fishermen’s families were living there, building bamboo huts in the green verdure of the seacoast, since no one knew from when their fathers and, before them, their grandfathers and great grandfathers were living there.

Everyday they would put their boats to sea when streaks of red still lingered in the evening sky and sail into the purple-red sea till it turned black.

Then they would fling their nets wide into the sea and sit and wait singing songs they had heard their fathers sing, till the red to the morning appeared in the sky. Then they would draw their nets in and sail back home.

They worked very hard and risked their lives for catching fish to feed the villages in the vicinity and the towns nearby. Sometimes they would go far into the sea to explore new waters. Some boats would bounder on the rock and someone would be drowned.

Sometimes they would be caught in a storm and get lost in the sea. Then there used to be weeping and wailing over the dead in their huts. A sadness would fill their hearts, but not for long. The wide expanse of the sea would stir their blood. For them it was the irresistible call of the sea and they would set sail again.

Thus, Antonio one day lost his father. His fellow-fishermen went to his house and told Antonio’s mother that his father’s boat had capsized in the raging sea and he was drowned; but they had somehow managed to bring his boat back to the beach.

Antonio and his mother wept bitterly for his father for a long while but the very next day he gave the boat to the boat-menders and within a week the boat was ready again. In the evening when he was going to the market for purchasing a new net, he met the landlord’s son. Antonio knew the landlord’s son well and they would always converse whenever they met.

The landlord’s son asked Antonio: “What, are you purchasing a net ?”

“Yes. Tomorrow I am going in my repaired boat to catch fish. Are you coming?”

“What? In the sea? Not me, I am scared.”

“Scared? Scared of what?”

“Scared of the sea, of course. I heard your father was drowned in the sea only last week.”

‘‘So what?”

“Then aren’t you scared?”

“Why should I? I am a fisherman’s son. Fishermen are not afraid of the sea.”

“Now tell me, what was your grandfather?”

“He was also a fisherman.”

“How did he die?”

“He was caught in a storm and never came back.”

“And his father?” The landlord’s son asked in surprise.

“He also died at sea. But he was more adventurous. He went beyond Colombo to the east coast of the country and became a pearl diver. He was drowned. He went in and never came up.”

“Strange! What sort of people are you? You always die at sea and yet go to it again and again!” The landlord’s son exclaimed.

Now it was Antonio’s turn to riddle the other fellow. After scratching his head for a while he asked: “I hear your grandfather passed away recently. Where did he die?”

“He died in his sleep at the house. He was old. When the servant went to wake him up, he found him dead.”

“And your great grandfather?”

“He was also too old and died in his house of illness.”

“And his father?”

“I am told he had been ill for a long time and died at the house.”

“My God! They all died in the house. Even then you stay in the same house. Aren’t you afraid of the house?”

Hearing this, the landlord’s son face turned red and he was very embarrassed.

A Folktale sourced from Folk Tales of Maharashtra by Indumati Sheorey.

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