Industrial demand is making one of the most affordable species of fish along the east coast of India more expensive. E. Haripriya explores what these ripple effects mean for local kitchens in Rameshwaram, Tamil Nadu.
I left for fieldwork at Rameshwaram fish landing centre at 6:30 am that morning. On my way back, still carrying the smell of the fish I had sampled, I stopped by a dried fish market to buy some karuvadu (dried fish) for Kalaimahal (Kalai) akka to cook for our team. I had never purchased dried fish before; in fact, I had never really bought fish before I began studying the fishmeal and fish oil sector.
Recalling a fisher’s recommendation to use Karal karuvadu (ponyfish) for a lip-smacking rasam recipe, I bought 100 grams of sun-dried Karal for ₹50. Kalai akka, who has been working at our office field station since 2023, was delighted to know we wanted to try a new fish recipe for lunch. Without hesitation, she began gathering ingredients for making Karal Karuvadu Rasam.
That afternoon, the delicate spice-scented plume rising from the rasam pot carried the tang of tamarind and pepper through the field station. The balance of tang, heat, and fish flavour hit a comforting note, so much so that I went back the following day to buy it again and learn the recipe from akka. I hadn’t realised then that a simple meal such as this could remind me of how a small, overlooked fish is linked to the global web of demand for fishmeal and fish oil.
My team and I are part of the Sustainable Fisheries Programme at Dakshin Foundation, where we work at the intersection of ocean sustainability and the well-being of fishing communities. For the past five years, we have been studying the fishmeal fish oil (FMFO) sector, an industry that processes fish into protein-rich fish meal powder and fish oil. These ingredients re-enter our food system as aquaculture feed (such as shrimp farming), pet foods, and even components in cosmetics and pharmaceuticals. Its growing relevance lies in its invisibility.
We are often denied information on how fish is sourced, especially given the market’s lack of transparency. Spanning almost the entire Indian coast, our research documents the ecological and socio-economic consequences of fish being diverted from local fishing communities to industries and the poultry sector that manufactures FMFO.
The indiscriminate nature of catching fish
It was this work that first brought me here to Rameshwaram in 2022, where a bulk of the fish caught in trawlers is diverted to the poultry and aquaculture sectors on a daily basis. Over the past few decades, the bulk of fish caught by industrialised trawl fisheries has increasingly been sought by FMFO industries, raising serious questions about sustainable fishing. The fish is either dried and ground for poultry feed or processed into FMFO.
Tons of bycatch, especially the fresher catch, become inaccessible to local fishers, who would otherwise purchase it at lower prices for their own consumption. The bycatch used for the FMFO production includes nearly every kind of fish. It ranges from damaged, old, unidentifiable catch piled in baskets to fresh catch still suitable for human consumption. The air at the landing centre hangs heavy with the smell of this mix. Among these species is the ponyfish (Leognathus sp.), widely known as Karal meen or Podi meen in Tamil, which often ranks among the most abundant species in these piles. While the fate of ponyfish is rewritten at sea and in factories, its story finds a tender continuity in Rameshwaram kitchens, as in the case of Kalai akka.
Kalai akka’s husband, Raja, also works as a cook in Chennai. At 37, balancing a long-distance relationship, raising her three sons, and working full-time, Kalai akka effectively runs two households: her own and ours. Married in 2007, she and her husband lived most of their married life in her native village, Ariyalur. However, in 2021, in search of work, they shifted to her in-laws’ village, Thangachimadam, in Rameshwaram. It was here that she learned to cook Karal Karuvadu Rasam from her athai (mother-in-law).
Through Kalai akka’s words, it became clear that it is not just fish but also the recipes and local culinary knowledge that traverse communities, creating intangible connections that transcend spatial boundaries. “The cuisine in Rameshwaram is way different from what I used to eat in my village,” she says. “I have never had this rasam until I moved in here. But now things have changed. You can see this recipe being made in many more parts of Tamil Nadu. It wasn’t like this earlier,” she adds.
The ponyfish is a group of small fish species that can typically grow up to the size of a human palm. It is a rich source of calcium, iron, phosphorus, selenium, and other micronutrients. A remarkable trait of ponyfish is its high reproductive rate, making it one of the most abundantly caught and affordable species along the east coast of India.
It was this work that first brought me here to Rameshwaram in 2022, where a bulk of the fish caught in trawlers is diverted to the poultry and aquaculture sectors on a daily basis.
This combination of abundance and affordability has positioned ponyfish at the centre of two intersecting value chains. Traditionally, its catch, across fishing villages along the Palk Bay stretch and other parts of the Indian coast, was sold in local fish markets and to fisherwomen who made a livelihood by drying and selling it locally. Today, while some portion continues to be circulated locally, a significant share is diverted to the FMFO sector. In my fieldwork, I observe trawlers landing tonnes of ponyfish in both fresh and semi-fresh conditions. These fish are loaded onto trucks bound for Salem, Thoothkudi, and other parts of Tamil Nadu, where they are processed into poultry feed and FMFO that later reappear in aquaculture as feed.
When asked about FMFO diversion, Kalai akka said she wasn’t aware of it. “I don’t usually go there, hence I don’t know much about it…” While the FMFO diversion of ponyfish and other fish groups often goes unnoticed, its ripple effects are felt in local kitchens. For women like Kalai akka, ponyfish in both dried and fresh form represents an affordable and nutritious source of protein for their families.
Over time, the prices of fish have gradually increased; these shifts in accessibility and affordability can subtly reshape what gets cooked and eaten. Fresh ponyfish, which sold for ₹30 a kilogram a decade ago, can now cost up to ₹100 for half a kilogram! The cost depends on the season and the FMFO sector’s demand. Even though it remains cheaper than most other fish, many in this region sense that ponyfish is becoming harder to afford or find in local markets. One plausible explanation for this sentiment is the indiscriminate nature of catching fish, regardless of maturity stage, and diverting them to the FMFO sector rather than prioritising direct human consumption.
The impact of trawling on how fishing communities eat
These changing patterns of utilisation are a consequence of the economic realities of trawling in India. Trawling is no longer as economically viable as it was earlier. The habitat destruction it has caused is now being countered by dwindling catches. With a decline in high-value commercial species, fishers are left with no choice but to bring every fish that enters the nets.
For boat owners, selling these mixed catches to FMFO traders in bulk is far more convenient than negotiating with individual small-scale traders and fisherwomen, who can only afford to purchase limited quantities for retail sale and fish-drying businesses. This way, bulk bycatch sales save time, labour, and costs of preservation. However, they come with a heavy, hidden price: the silent withdrawal of affordable fish from the local markets and households.
Many traditionally affordable fish species like Karal (ponyfish) and Keeli meen (terapon) are now rarely found in local fresh fish markets. These preferred varieties have been quietly replaced by more expensive fish, making everyday diets costlier for the locals.
Many traditionally affordable fish species like Karal (ponyfish) and Keeli meen (terapon) are now rarely found in local fresh fish markets.
One of our field staff, Maria Hotlin, who has been closely studying the FMFO sector with us, rightly observed that dishes like Karal Karuvadu Rasam do not demand extraordinary ingredients. Unlike Meen Kozhmbu (fish curry), the rasam can be prepared with simple, everyday staples such as affordable dried fish, tamarind, tomato, onions, and salt. In fact, it tastes wonderful even with minimal fish, as is often the case in lean seasons. In such times, it is the dried fish that truly saves the day.
The story of humble ponyfish offers deep insights into the vast, burgeoning FMFO sector and its impact on global seafood demand. It is a reminder that ecological and nutritional shifts often manifest quietly in local markets, kitchens, and on everyday plates. Illuminating such connections lies at the heart of Dakshin Foundation’s #KhaneKeLiyeBachao philosophy, which not only defends local fishing communities’ right to food, nutrition, and livelihoods but also honours their deep cultural ties to the sea.
As this fish drifts away from human consumption toward economically driven FMFO production, the loss is not just nutritional but profoundly cultural. What’s at stake is the collective food memory, the one that ties these fishing communities to the sea through food and tradition. And this is where Kalai akka’s Karal Karuvadu Rasam hits the right chord: reviving that memory, restoring the tang, and sustaining the sea’s flavour in every simmering pot in Rameshwaram.
Try Kalai akka’s Karal Meen Rasam recipe here.
E. Haripriya works on fisheries and seafood systems at Dakshin Foundation, where she is part of the Sustainable Fisheries Programme. Her research focuses on the fishmeal and fish oil sector, and its ecological, nutritional, and socio-cultural implications along the Indian coast. She is particularly interested in how global seafood demand reshapes local diets, kitchens, and food memories. You can follow her on Linkedin, Instagram and on X.
Rama Aadhithan is a visual storyteller. Shaped by nature’s lessons, he continues to learn its ways while documenting its beauty. Through his work, he hopes to inspire conservation and deepen appreciation for the natural world. To follow his work, visit his portfolio.
#KhaneKeLiyeBachao is Dakshin Foundation’s conservation philosophy that begins with a simple truth: for many coastal communities, the ocean is not just an ecosystem — it is a source of food, work, and culture. By strengthening small-scale fisheries, community decision-making, and fair access to marine resources, Dakshin Foundation works toward futures where both coastal communities and ocean ecosystems can thrive together.
“Come at four,” he had said, the hour when the day’s work reaches its busiest rhythm of filling and dispatching the tiffins.
Login with Google