World Environment Day: The hidden marine wonders beneath Mumbai’s iconic shoreline

Whether a Mumbai resident or a discerning traveller, Juhu invariably graces your itinerary. Immortalised in films like Hero No. 1, Coolie No. 1, and the Oscar-winning Slumdog Millionaire—where its lanes framed Jamal’s story—it is equally famed for its Bollywood elite, from Sunday crowds at Amitabh Bachchan’s Pratiksha to moonlit walks and street-side indulgences. Yet, I had never seen Juhu quite like this before.

Juhu unveiled: Exotic sea creatures you will find under Mumbai's oceans

Mumbai is often seen as a city of relentless hustle, not tides and texture. We forget it is, at heart, a beach town—its edges kissed by the Arabian Sea, shorelines hidden not in postcards but woven into daily chaos. Here, no bronzed bodies sunbathe; instead, a more exquisite world quietly unfolds beneath our feet—a living marine universe.

Whispers from the Deep

Over ninety minutes along Juhu’s quieter shore contours, we encountered an astonishing mosaic of marine life—delicate and armoured, all extraordinary. We spotted 20 to 25 species, each revealing itself like a whisper from the deep. The elusive brittle star, a fragile marvel, sheds its arms like a lizard dropping its tail—an exquisite act of self-preservation.

The Anjuna Anemone swayed gently, tentacles alive with motion. Lacquered limbs of the Striated Red Porcelain Crab caught the light, while the feathery Indian Sea Plume filtered the sea’s breath. Maroon Stone Crabs scuttled silently, and Sunset Razor Clams vanished into sand with astonishing speed.

A Spiral Babylon Snail perched atop a Suberites sponge—its ornate spiral hiding a scavenger’s hunger—while Hermit Crabs jostled comically over discarded shells.

We glimpsed the unexpected grace of a Swimming Crab gliding across tidal pools. The Hoof-shield Limpet clung with quiet defiance to the rock, playing its part in the ecosystem’s rhythm. Among mollusks, Carinate Rock Snails, Spiral Melongena, Sunset Clams, and the Cone Snail—beautiful but deadly, armed with venomous harpoons—punctuated the shore’s diversity.

A Silent Reckoning

At Juhu Beach, where the sea once whispered secrets to the shore, silence now bears a heavier meaning. “In the quiet of the 2020 lockdown,” recalls Meehir Pawar, “rare sea snakes and forgotten fish returned—if only briefly.” Their absence today echoes louder than the tide. Despite nature walks and awareness drives, the crisis remains a coffee-table concern.

“Awareness without care is an empty gesture,” he sighs. Plastic clings stubbornly to the coastline—bottles, wrappers, modern wreckage. Hermit crabs nest in microplastics. Octopuses seek shelter in bottles. This is not evolution. It’s resignation. Meehir gently reminds us: even shells we pocket as souvenirs were once homes—refuges for snails and crabs. “Nature wastes nothing. Only we create what cannot return.” The sea remembers its purity. So should we.

Reflections at the Shoreline

At Juhu, the tide doesn’t merely recede—it reveals. Not just creatures, but questions. What does it mean to live beside the sea and yet remain strangers to its rhythm? To pass life forms older than memory, yet entangled in the plastic we discard carelessly?

This marine walk was more than exploration—it was a quiet reckoning. A reminder that the sea is not distant; it lives here, with us, asking not for curiosity alone, but for genuine care. And perhaps, next time we stroll Juhu’s shoreline, we will look down—not just around.

(By Arundhuti Banerjee)