-By A Special Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -28.May.2025, 11.30 PM) When Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M.K. Stalin stood before a crowd of beaming fishermen at the inauguration of the ₹272.70 crore Surai fishing port in Thiruvottiyur, he dispensed not only promises of modern harbours and seed farms but also a familiar political prescription: reclaim Katchatheevu. According to Stalin, there is no panacea for Tamil Nadu’s beleaguered fisherfolk short of restoring this tiny island—ceded to Sri Lanka in the 1970s—to Indian sovereignty.
“It’s simple arithmetic,” the CM thundered. “No Katchatheevu, no peace for our fishermen.” Stalin’s remarks, delivered with oratorical flourish, were part rallying cry, part rebuke of the Union Government, and wholly indicative of how fisheries policy has morphed into a totem of regional pride and centre–state friction.
Katchatheevu, a flat, palm-dotted outcrop in the Palk Strait, has been an Indian fishing ground for centuries. Yet, in the 1974 and 1976 agreements, New Delhi acknowledged Sri Lankan sovereignty over the isle—ostensibly to settle maritime boundaries and fishing rights. The deal allowed Indian fishermen access to its shores without a visa, preserving traditional livelihoods; what it failed to anticipate was the rising tide of geopolitical realpolitik and the occasional patrol-boat patrols that would leave Tamil fishermen penniless, boat-less, and imprisoned.
In recent years, these “border” crossings have become flashpoints. According to the Chief Minister, 1,300 Tamil Nadu fishermen have been rescued from Sri Lankan jails since 2019—many languishing for weeks, separated from their boats and their only means of subsistence Meanwhile, 729 boats seized in 2018 remain in Sri Lankan custody, prompting TN to dole out compensation: ₹5 lakh for motorised vessels and ₹1.5 lakh for traditional crafts, to the tune of over ₹100 crore in total relief
Stalin’s demand isn’t merely nostalgic—it’s electoral. During the 2024 General Election, both Prime Minister Narendra Modi and External Affairs Minister Dr S. Jaishankar purportedly promised to “reclaim” Katchatheevu Yet, as Stalin pointed out drily, “It seems the ink of that promise ran out on Sri Lankan shores.” His Assembly resolution on April 2, 2025, calling for the island’s restoration and binding the State to fisherfolk rights, would appear to leave the Court of the Union no wiggle room
But when Modi visited Colombo in late March, Sri Lankan reports made no mention of Katchatheevu, focusing instead on trade ties and regional security. Fishermen, who long for a quiet sea and a full catch, instead witnessed a diplomatic deja vu: assurances offered in New Delhi evaporating under Sri Lankan sun.
It’s not that TN is idly wringing its hands. The Surai port, alongside 12 other fish-landing sites and seed farms costing ₹426.13 crore, underscores Stalin’s commitment to modernise the sector. Micro-credit schemes under Aaalagal aim to empower women’s co-operatives. Welfare payments totalling ₹10.67 crore have flowed to 2,290 individuals, while loans of ₹1,528 crore have reached 120,000 fishermen. The CM prides Tamil Nadu on being the state “most generous to its fisherfolk”
Yet, as the Chief Minister acknowledged, “All these schemes matter little if our boats are rusting in Trincomalee harbours.” His latest letters—totaling 76 missives—to the Prime Minister and EAM, imploring them to secure both fishermen and their vessels, may yet go unanswered in the bureaucracy’s wastepaper basket.
If the Centre dawdles, Sri Lanka has made clear that any Indian claim on Katchatheevu will trigger a “severe” defensive response—language that drips with posturing India’s diplomatic entanglements with Colombo have grown more sensitive in the context of a deepening Sri Lanka–China partnership. Chinese investments in Hambantota and Colombo Port City loom large; Beijing’s nod to Sri Lankan sovereignty could tilt any dispute into a broader strategic spat.
Perhaps Stalin’s references to an “Indian invasion” were hyperbole, yet they resonate in a region where naval drills in the Palk Strait have become routine. If China backs Sri Lanka—and Pakistan, with whom India has had its own recent tiffs—this could harden diplomatic fault-lines. Katchatheevu, in Stalin’s telling, is more than a sandbar; it is a litmus test of India’s regional heft and a rallying cry against perceived Centre neglect.
For the men and women who rise before dawn, Katchatheevu is both promise and peril. Its shallow reefs teem with prawns and tuna, seasons dictating fortune. Yet each stray mile into Sri Lankan waters risks detention, legal wrangling, and the loss of gear worth lakhs.
Take Mr Ramu, a Surai trawler skipper, who watched six colleagues languish in Jaffna for a fortnight last year. “Every cough from my engine,” he says, “makes me tremble. I know I might be swept to Katchatheevu, and then what?” His tale is echoed in every fishing village along the coast, where wives gather at dawn, scanning the horizon for husbands who sometimes never return.
Stalin, by foregrounding Katchatheevu, taps into this existential anxiety. His demand: “Return our island, secure our seas, and end the endless cycle of fear.”
Securing Katchatheevu isn’t as simple as planting an Indian flag. It would require bilateral treaty renegotiations, likely spurred by a Joint Working Group or International Court of Justice arbitration. New Delhi would have to accept strategic concessions—perhaps port access or security guarantees—to coax Colombo back to the negotiating table.
Yet political will in New Delhi seems lukewarm. The Union Government’s reluctance may stem from larger geopolitical calculations: preserving good neighbourly ties with Sri Lanka, avoiding confrontation in China’s backyard, and prioritising other foreign policy objectives.
For Tamil Nadu, however, these macro concerns ring hollow. Stalin’s tactics—using high-profile inaugurations, Assembly resolutions, and direct appeals to the Prime Minister—are a blend of constitutional cudgels and populist spectacle. The CM’s message: “If the Centre won’t act, we will. And we will remind them at every opportunity—through restored ports, welfare schemes, and political theatre.”
At Surai, as fishermen inspected new slipways and officials posed for photographs, the question of Katchatheevu loomed large—a small dot on the map bearing outsized significance. For Stalin, reclaiming it is not just about medals of sovereignty but about tangible justice for those who haul nets into stormy waters.
Whether his clarion calls will coerce New Delhi into action remains to be seen. But if the spectacle of tarpaulin-topped inaugurations and Assembly resolutions can keep fishermen’s sufferings in the national spotlight, then TN’s gambit will have achieved at least one victory.
After all, in the Palk Strait, an island’s sovereignty can be measured not in square miles but in the hope—or despair—of a community that treats the sea as both adversary and ally. As the waves lap against the rocky outcrop of Katchatheevu, the question endures: will India ever restore it, or will it remain forever a symbol of promises unfulfilled?
-By A Special Correspondent
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by (2025-05-28 23:37:33)
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