Along the Drenched Hemline

In Amitav8217;s Ghosh8217;s tide country, man and man-eating tiger share a routinely intimidating space. But it is in the cave-like mangrove closeness of Sundarbans that their roots run deep into the velvet mud, all entangled

What we have on our plate is frugal 8212; rice, dal and potato curry, which to compound matters, is crushingly, breathsappingly hot. This is the boatman8217;s staple dinner, explains Mursheed, 8220;for rice and potato is easiest to procure and cook8221;. What he puts in his mouth is the least of Mursheed8217;s worries when he goes out fishing for days into the deep recesses of Amitav Ghosh8217;s 8216;tide country8217;, Sundarbans. When his countryboat is anchored for the night, inside one of the creeks that crisscross the forest land like veins, Mursheed has a bigger worry: tigers.

Tonight 8212; precariously dark four days after Diwali 8212; is one such night when Mursheed is on the lookout. Gentle waves lap at the sides of our boat, together with a comforting breeze they induce sways; sleep can be easy if not for Mursheed, and the threat he continuously holds out.

8220;He is patient,8221; the boatman talks almost reverentially about the man-eaters among tigers. 8220;Sometimes he keeps track of human activity for hours, follows every movement and when he senses the moment, jumps in a flash. He comes from behind, puts the full force of his 200 kilos behind the leap and goes for the neck.8221; A lantern throws light only till a few metres beyond a boat: beyond, there8217;s darkness. Nothing. Or maybe something: a pair of lurking eyes watching from within the thick mangroves that surround us, biding time8230; I take refuge in numbers.

There are eight of us on the boat tonight and Mursheed says a tiger never attacks a group. 8220;He8217;s as scared of humans as we are of him.8221; Before we started on our two-day boat journey into the bowels of Sundarbans, at Mursheed8217;s home in Moiput village, the man had surreptitiously laid out on a table some of his treasures: tiger nails, teeth and a portion of the neckline. As a fisher, he barely earns a thousand rupees every month, the proposed buyer of the tiger ware has promised him

Rs 5,000. I didn8217;t ask him how he managed to get the contraband material.

At Moiput, located between two forests and thus a village used to seeing tigers cross from one forest to the other, everybody has a tiger tale to tell. An uncle killed, a neighbour mauled, a friend8217;s friend saved8230;But the one story most repeated is that of Modhu Dutta8217;s, whose father had years ago been killed by a tiger when he had gone to collect forest wood. When Dutta heard about a tiger holed up inside a village cowshed, he went armed with a shovel and country liquor, seeking revenge. It is not known who attacked first but Dutta lost an arm, yet got the tiger injured. The forest rangers, says Sudeb Sarkar, a villager, were of no help because they needed permission before shooting a tiger. It was then that Lakhan Naskar, the village strongman, snatched a rifle from a forest guard and shot the tiger.

I had gone back to the book, Amitav Ghosh8217;s prodigious tome on the Sundarbans, The Hungry Tide, which is now being considered for filming with Abhishek Bachchan, Rahul Bose and Zuleikha Robinson as actors.

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Sundarbans, the archipelago of islands, 8216;interposed between the sea and the plains of Bengal8217;, is for Ghosh, 8216;the trailing threads of India8217;s fabric, the ragged fringe of her sari, the achol that follows her, half-wetted by the sea8217;. Man and animal share this space, most often peacefully, murderously when paths cross. Like in Moiput, in real life. Like when Fokir, the valiant and chivalrous boatman, takes part in the heinous killing of an infringing tiger, in the pages of Ghosh8217;s book.

The wild is imbedded in Sundarbans8217; human psyche. They have mutated the wild to match their own lives. The moulding is mostly for survival: like when Pulak, someone with whom the 8220;George of the Jungle8221; sobriquet goes well, showed us how wood and honey collectors spot each other at night in the jungles by sticking the glowing ends of fireflies on his sweaty forehead, ear lobes and chin.

Sometimes the wild is challenged for entertainment, sometimes probed. At the creek, Robert, the 14-year-old, wades to the bank, spots a snake and starts walking towards it. I8217;m mortified. He picks the snake up with a stick and shouts, 8220;Dada, dada, take picture8221;. The off-focus picture reflects my panic, some of his daring.

Sometime later, Sushmit, Ayan and I get off the boat. Thick, uninviting mangrove forests look down on us from all sides. Pulak scoops out a blob of mud and gifts it to me; a pugmark sits on top of the cake. 8220;It8217;s fresh. He may not be very far,8221; Pulak warns. We rue not seeing the tiger. 8220;You are very lucky,8221; says Mursheed as our boat moves out of the creek.

How To Get There

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By air, get to Dum Dum airport in Kolkata, 166 km from the islands. Nearest railway station is Canning, just about 48 km away. From Kolkata, there are frequent suburban trains to Canning. Bus services are available regularly from across Kolkata, at various embarkment points such as Namkhana, Raidighi, Sonakali and Najatare.