The Hindu Business Line : An adda session after a trip to Sunderbans

Our boatman, Mahadev Gayan earns Rs.1,400 every month while his assistant Debabrata takes home Rs. 800. Mahadev, his wife and child, apart from aged parents, have to live within Rs 1,400. Absence of funds is a nagging constant for them. They are familiar with empty homes. The two wear the minimum of a shirt and a pant (suited for summer) when temperatures dip in the cold months of December and January. Their bright faces and white teeth have no traces of beedi or paan stains.

A disaster at home (Mahadev refused details) got Debabrata on to the motorised boat, Joy Ma Kali. In the night, the two anchor their boat in the middle of the river and sleep in the space below the deck, fearing midnight dacoity. They are the river-men of the Sunderbans Tiger Reserve. On an invite from Mahadev, we chatted an afternoon in the driver’s cabin. From his wooden seat behind the steering wheel, Mahadev is sharp at spotting animal movements on the clayey banks.

My friend has a wish which he shared with this writer. He wants to build a boat and become a boat owner. Building a wooden boat costs anything above Rs.6 lakh and one cannot see him raising that amount. “Kothai theke taka ashbe (Where is the money going to come from),” asks Anil Mistry in Bengali and suggests an alternative: turn an old boat into a new one as it costs less but one was not sure whether Mahadev could even raise the minimum of Rs. two to three lakh.

One spent about five days watching Sunderbans, its animals, plants and its people. In Sunderbans, human beings seem to be leading a poorer life than the tribals living around Kanha Tiger reserve or Pench Tiger reserve (Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh). Maybe one is wrong and first impressions could be far away from reality. Next to the common dearth of money is the common faith of Hindus and Muslims living in the vast delta in Bonobibi — the Goddess of the Forest. She is worshipped in every village and in return the Goddess is trying her best to protect human beings from tiger and other attacks, even as a debate is raging over the tiger count.

Experts are reluctant to come out openly on the declining trend in tiger population (some think there is a crisis) fearing the wrath of the forest department. A large number of NGOs are working to save Sunderbans and its first citizen, Panthera tigris tigris, though they do not seem to be working together. If they can gather round a table, it will be easier for them to work with the forest department; like at all tiger reserves falling under Project Tiger, the forest personnel do not seem to be doing much at Sunderbans.

After the trip, when one landed on a Sunday evening at the Salt Lake home of retired armyman Basu, father of my friend Abhijit, the first query was whether one had sighted a tiger. When one replied in the negative, the retired gentleman said with a laugh, “Nobody seems to be spotting a tiger in Sunderbans.” Our party of seven stayed at Dayapur at a resort with a generator supplying electricity. With early and late evening temperatures around 10 degrees, one did not consume much power. Dayapur and its environs are still in the times when the world did not know automobiles. Men and women walk or boat. Sometimes a bicycle, with a sharp tinkle, gives the walker an advance warning.

In the morning, one got up to the crowing of cocks and the quacks of ducks paddling in the pukur (pond) in front of one’s room. Taking the trouble to walk around, one observed from near a pond a heron stretching its neck to pick up a morsel from the water. Occasionally, a tailor bird, a red vented bulbul, a magpie and a few warblers called while one stood staring at the marble-sized dew drops wobbling at the edges of leaves of the many plants.

A two-hour car run from Kolkata brought us to Sonakhali Beat, National Park East range, 24-Parganas (South), Sunderbans Tiger Reserve, where we took the boat. One drove past brick kilns, prawn fisheries and flat land – all wearing an unshaved look. Kolkata is still trying to change from the dhoti and jibba to jeans and T-shirts. Having a late lunch at Oh! Calcutta, the air-conditioned hotel serving genuine Bengali food on Elgin Road, one thought of the faces one spent time with in Sunderbans. For them Oh! Calcutta would be a shock (heaven and hell can shock equally). Like that the Indian suffers on his first trip to New York. I recall a friend, after his first landing on American earth, telling me, “ Hey, it is like the absurd world of Albert Camus.” Sunderbans orbits far away from Kolkata.

At Basu’s home, one met up with his 74-year old school friend and an old army friend, Varma. Over cups of tea and biscuits served by Sephali, the house maid, we settled into an adda (arattai in Tamil) session. Varma is hung up on the booming Sensex and turns ecstatic over the 10 per cent GDP growth. He had a good word ( a rare happening) for Dr. Manmohan Singh, Yashwant Sinha and Chidambaram. Then came the familiar media bashing. “Every evening journalists have to come up with stories. This is incredible,” remarked the armyman and loud laughter roamed the living room.

It was my first adda session in Kolkata in more than 37 years. It was time for the Jet Airways Mumbai flight and the car ride to the airport was smooth. One is always told the poor litter a place but at Dum Dum Airport, it is the rich who dirty the floors. One has not been in a shabbier airport. The flight reached Mumbai skies on schedule and stayed in the sky for an hour awaiting landing permission. One was far, far away from Sunderbans, Mahadev, his boat and his penury.

P. Devarajan

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