Death of a Chilwa!
A million miles and another world away from Geneva, the second hand on my Rolex made yet another sweep around the black face of my watch. Another hard vigil had begun. The waters of the Cauvery river swirled at my feet in small spirals, going down, down into the murky depths. The gushing noise of the rapids had by now almost become a natural feeling to my body; my ears had heard millions of gallons flow over the rocks in the last five days. My arse also had a feeling of its own, caused by a symptom I called rock bum, which is caused by sitting on sharp rocks, sharpened over centuries of water flowing over them. It was now my fifth day it was taking it’s toll. Every inch of my ass hurt, with the slightest bit of pressure. How I longed for just one square foot of rock to sit on in those angry rapids. Ten days later my search was to prove in vain, every inch of exposed rock was like a bank of razors waiting for some ass to cut.
A lone fish eagle circled overhead, the heat rose slowly one degree at a time. Sometime before I would leave this sharp rock around midday it would go over 120 degrees Fahrenheit. The reflection of the water caused me to squint down the line. I waited and waited as others had done before me, hoping that a Mahseer that would eventually strike my Chilwa, a small silver bait fish which is a favorite of the Mahseer. Somewhere in the rapid about fifty yards away and ten feet below the surface from me swam the four inch Chilwa. With the Gamagatsu 6/0 hook just above it’s spine, the little Chilwa did it’s best to battle the current and not drown. It was full of frustration at being unable to swim free being of course tethered by its chain of 40lb Trilene Big Game fishing line.
In terror the Chilwa would have seen the dark shadow coming slowly at first; and then felt nothing as the Golden Masheer inhaled it entirely and in a streak of gold motion turned to go downstream to swallow its prey and return to the rapids, In that nth of a second what became of the Chilwa one will never know but the 6/0 hook naked now, sunk fully into the rubbery lips of the Mahseer, it went into them like a hot knife through butter, the Mahseer tried to spit it out but the barb held it in place. In a fraction of a second my body was brought back to consciousness. The long 10 foot glass rod that had lain loosely in my right hand went up in one fluid motion, it’s tip had gone all the way back in a long sweep and returned to face the fish.
The fish took 70 yards of line in a screaming run and then slowed down to taking twenty five feet of line at a time in small jerks. It sought refuge in the rocks but the 40lb line held it like a wild dog on a chain. A small piece of razor sharp rock would have been enough to free it. Forty five minutes later it's wild runs gradually became shorter as it's strength ebbed and oxygen left its blood stream, it would shortly be mine.
As it came up to the surface, it sensed me and with super natural effort dived back into the dark depths of the deep pool. The teeth of the gears in the Abu big game reel spun yet again, the drag washers becoming hot once more as they took up the strain. I leaned back and pumped the rod, now using the rock as my fighting chair and in a few more quick pumps regained the lost line.
The fish came slowly belly up turning and twisting in the fast flowing current. My guide reached over to grab it, but it slipped right out of his hands and back into the water where it jerked and thrashed. I kept the 40lb line as a taught as a guitar string all the while. We replayed the whole sequence and this time the fish came straight into his arms.
The scale registered at 78lbs. The Golden Mahseer was mine, forever enshrined in a photograph and released to swim free in the depths of the Cauvery to hunt the Silver Chilwa once again.
Foot Note: Sadly my camera was dropped in the river and all photos were lost. The picture in this blog is courtesy of Angling News UK. Mahseer were once abundant in many rivers of the Indian sub continent as well as in Burma and Thailand. Dams across rivers, dynamite and poaching has severely depleted the species. In my own as well as many other anglers experience they are the strongest fresh water fighting fish pound for pound much stronger than Tiger fish, Salmon and anything else that swims with scales. One of largest fish ever caught on rod and line was a 120lb specimen caught way back in 1946.
