Hoiya Hoiya Lyrics by Bathiya and Santhush (BnS)

Hoiya, hoiya …////////

I never told Maria about this sorrow
Though I grew up on the beach, I drive out the heavy nets
By going to sea, I keep you safe
Tell me how else I could, my darling

Hoiya, hoiya …////////

From the day I was born, the sea is all I have known
This is the work that was handed to me
There is no sorrow in my heart, none I feel even now
What I say comes straight from my chest, it’s the truth

We sit through the rain until the season turns
At the turn of the tide we patch up the watch hut
Two meals a day we scrape together from little
And there are days when there is nothing at all

Hoiya, hoiya …////////

Fisherwoman, you are the one who bears the hardship
Yet you have never broken down and sobbed beside me
It is to keep you safe that I endure this hard, empty toil
That is why I will never fail you

Hoiya, hoiya …////////

Hoiya, hoiya ..////

Hoiya, hoiya …////////

“Hoiya, hoiya” is the chant fishermen call out together as they haul the heavy nets in from the sea, and the whole song is built on that rhythm. The voice here is a fisherman speaking to the woman he loves, the wife who waits for him on shore. He carries a worry he has kept from her, and across the song he tries to put into words why he does what he does.

He has grown up on the beach and the sea is the only life he has ever known. It was handed to him as his work, and he takes it without complaint. When he says there is no sorrow in his heart and that what he speaks comes straight from his chest, he is steadying her, telling her not to pity him. Going out on the water is dangerous, but to him it is how he keeps her fed and safe, so he asks plainly: how else could I look after you?

The middle of the song shows the bare truth of a fishing family’s life without dressing it up. They wait out the rain until the season changes, they mend the little watch hut by the shore, they manage two meals a day out of very little, and some days there is nothing at all. This is the daily texture of a poor coastal household, set down honestly rather than turned into something grand.

The tenderness lands in the last verse, where he turns to his “deewariya,” his fisherwoman. He sees clearly that she is the one who truly suffers, waiting and going without, and what moves him most is that she never breaks down and weeps in front of him. She carries it quietly so as not to add to his burden. He answers that quiet strength with a vow of his own: everything he endures, this hard and often empty labour, he endures to keep her safe, and for her sake he will not fail. What stays with you is the dignity of two people holding a hard life together, neither one letting the other carry it alone.