Perched high on some bank overlooking the stream or lake, you see innumerable festoons of nets hanging out to dry on tall bamboo poles, or hanging like lace curtains of very coarse texture from the roofs and eaves of the huts.  Hauled up on the beach are a whole fleet of boats of different sizes, from the small dugout, which will hold only one man, to the huge dinghy, in which the big nets and a dozen men can be stowed with ease.  Great heaps of shells of the freshwater mussel show the source of great supplies of bait; while overhead a great hovering army of kites and vultures are constantly circling round, eagerly watching for the slightest scrap of offal from the nets.  When the rains have fairly set in, and the fishermen have got their rice fields all planted out, they are at liberty to follow their hereditary avocation.  A day is fixed for a drag, and the big nets are overhauled and got in readiness.  The head mullah, a wary grizzled old veteran, gives the orders.  The big drag-net is bundled into the boat, which is quickly pushed off into the stream, and at a certain distance from shore the net is cast from the boat.  Being weighted at the lower end it rapidly sinks, and, buoyed on the upper side with pieces of cork, it makes a perpendicular wall in the water.  Several long bamboo poles are now run through the ropes along the upper side of the net, to prevent the net being dragged under water altogether by the weight of the fish in a great haul.  The little boats, a crowd of which are in attendance, now dart out, surrounding the net on all sides, and the boatmen beating their oars on the sides of the boats, create such a clatter as to frighten, the fish into the circumference of the big net.  This is now being dragged slowly to shore by strong and willing arms.  The women and children watch eagerly on the bank.  At length the glittering haul is pulled up high and dry on the beach, the fish are divided among the men, the women fill their baskets, and away they hie to the nearest bazaar, or if it be not bazaar or market day, they hawk the fish through the nearest villages, like our fish-wives at home.

There is another common mode of fishing adopted in narrow lakes and small streams, which are let out to the fishermen by the Zemindars or landholders.  A barricade made of light reeds, all matted together by string, is stuck into the stream, and a portion of the water is fenced in, generally in a circular form.  The reed fence being quite flexible is gradually moved in, narrowing the circle.  As the circle narrows, the agitation inside is indescribable; fish jumping in all directions—­a moving mass of glittering scales and fins.  The larger ones try to leap the barrier, and are caught by the attendant mullahs, who pounce on them with swift dexterity.  Eagles and kites dart and swoop down, bearing off a captive fish in their talons.  The reed fence is doubled back on itself, and gradually pushed on till the whole of the fish inside are jammed together in a moving mass.  The weeds and dirt are then removed, and the fish put into baskets and carried off to market.