Atharo Bhatir Desh or
the Land of the eighteen ebb tides evokes the quintessential essence of the
world’s largest mangrove forests or Sundarbans.
The story narrates this essence through the eyes of a tiger as it interacts with people
within the landscape. It captures different facets of the experiences
that the animal encounters (using masks by the locals to prevent attacks,
interaction with people, interactions with researchers through camera trapping
and lastly radio-collaring). The story provides a vivid description of the life
of both the tiger and the people who share this sinking space.
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The
eyes staring back were devoid of expression. Neither did they blink nor did they
show any fear, which would be the norm before they surrendered to death! I felt
unnerved. Something was different, but I was unable to gauge what it was.
Before I could apprehend, the dinghy sailed off carrying away the group of men
only to realize that I have been thoroughly duped. The men had deceived me with
a false face! Perhaps they were blessed by the Bonbibi and I, the animal incarnate of Dakshin Ray, resigned to
my fate- an empty stomach for the time being!
These
forests have been my home since I was born. To the world, these forests are
known as “Sundarban” (the beautiful
forest), a name they got from the Sundari
trees in the forest. Five years ago, when I first set my foot as a cub, I
was enthralled by the denseness of the place, though it took a while
maneuvering the deep mud and occasional jabs from the aerial roots. But over
time, as I grew, the walks on the mud banks followed by a swim through the channels
turned out to be extremely calming. But these forests, beautiful as they are, are
equally unforgiving! I was one when I lost my mother. After a couple of
unsuccessful hunts, she paid a visit to the Rajat Jubilee village in search of
a goat. My mother’s presence was caught in a whiff by the neighborhood dogs
(such morons!) waking up the whole village. The next thing I saw was a sea of
people engulfing her and a din of sounds. I never saw her back again in the
forest nor did I get her scent.
The
month of Chaitra is one of the
busiest times of the year and also a time when I get lucky with easy prey! Moule (honey collectors) come into these
forests in search of the golden liquid. Sometimes when I do not feel the pang
to hunt, I sit and observe their ritual. They are usually so engrossed that they
rarely notice my presence! The dinghies line up along the bank and the men move
in groups. These guys are expert in tracking these tiny insects and sometimes
occasionally follow the macaques in the forest. But I cannot bear when they
smoke up the Khalsi or the Geona tree to drive away the bees for
collecting honey! The smoke irritates me and it is time for me to move out. As
I walk away, in some ways I give a new lease of life to the Moule who come to the forest with an
unwritten summon of death.
The
people who reside here live a harsh life just like me. The Moule, fishermen and the Meendharas
(prawn seed collectors) tread this landscape every day with a prayer to
safeguard themselves and their family. Their womenfolk offer their prayers to Bonbibi who is the protector of all
inmates, particularly when their men venture into the forests. Unlike the
chital which makes a hunt extremely tiresome in the sweltering heat, these guys
are far easier to handle! One slap of my paw and they lie lifeless! In the last five years, I have killed three
men; two honey collectors and a fisherman. While one of the kill was out of
sheer hunger, the other two was more in retaliation when I was taken by
surprise. After an unsuccessful chital hunt and a measly meal of crabs, I was
getting impatient. A honey collector was getting back to the boat to join his
group and it would be foolish to miss this golden opportunity of getting easy food. The last thing I could remember was the
fear-stricken faces of the men in the group when I dragged their mate into the
deep forest.
Although
I am revered and feared, I soon realized that I am not the only reason for
their death. Occasionally people do fall prey to the saltwater crocodiles that
come out to bask on the banks. Though they may look quite docile when they are
relaxing, one realizes the power of their jaws when they lunge forward to snap.
I was lucky to have escaped once (of course I was much younger then!) but over
time, I have learnt to maintain my distances. Once I overheard a conversation
between two fishermen waiting in the boat about how a large fish (shark like
creature) maimed his friend’s wife while she was collecting prawn seed along
the creeks.
A
few days back, when I crossed a channel and entered the forest on the other
side, the sound of a boat propeller slowing down caught my attention. As I
peered through the maze of mangroves, I could see the boat lodged at the bank
and a group of people scrutinizing the trail I just walked. One of them was
curiously bending down with a device that went on clicking incessantly. The
people were having an animated discussion and though I had a strong urge to eavesdrop
on their conversation, the prospect of stalking an unmindful deer fawn ahead seemed
more wholesome than anything else! A couple of days later while strolling in
the same place, I encountered the leg of a goat hooked on a stick. As I pounced
to grab a morsel (since it would be completely insane to let go of this free
food!), from the corner of my eye I could see another pole on which a device
was mounted. However this device looked queer. This was certainly not what I
had seen with the person on the boat! I decided to finish my snack first and
then inspect this half-foot long entity that looked really fancy. I peered,
sniffed, licked it with my rasping tongue and even tried to take it off with my
canines but that thing was just like a stone-lifeless! What I found even more
amusing was that when I crossed the channel to the next island, I found the
same device but instead of a goat leg dangling, there was some sweet water in a
pot! It suddenly dawned that whenever I encountered this half-foot device,
there would be these goodies. To be frank I was not bothered with the device at
all, it did me no harm anyways. Instead these freebies provided an occasional
grub and I would look forward to them during my strolls.
It
is really hot and musty in most times of the year here, but there a few months
which offer great relief from the heat. During this time, I love to warm myself
in the morning sun and watch the birds gliding over me in a frenzy. However,
this is also the time when the noisier bigger boats operate in the wider
channels carrying people who traverse these waterscapes apparently with an
immense optimism to see me! And believe me, in my heart of hearts, I love to prick
that bubble of optimism with full vigour by moving deeper into the forests. At
times I am gracious enough to give them a glimpse but there are times when I get
annoyed with the way they react! They would scream in excitement and their
devices would be snapping away ceaselessly. That’s when I feel a strong urge to
jump onto their boat, slap the loudest of them all and run back into the
forests! It is as simple as this- just the way you maintain certain etiquette
while eating, you should know that there is a decorum that needs to be upheld
while visiting a forest.
I
and my tribe have an unusual equation with the people living here. We are a
symbol of both awe and terror. For many years, my tribe have been able to maintain
this fear and reverence. I have even heard of villages where no menfolk are
alive and there are many who bear the scars, a signature that I have etched not
just on their frail bodies but also on their minds. But their agony of loss or
the reminiscences have not been able to take away their faith on Bonbibi or even Dakshin Ray. Many a times we win, but there are times when tables
are turned and our fates are decided by the same people whose fate we decided
when they ventured in to our territory!
I was an unusually hot summer and I was
feeling exhausted and frustrated after missing a prized chital catch. After
some contemplation, I decided to pay a visit to the nearby village to chance
upon some easy food; maybe a cow or even a mid-sized goat would suffice for the
time being. It’s a risky business but I had already done it four times. It was
the middle of the night and there was not a stir. Even the air was still which
was good as it would be difficult for the dogs to smell my presence. I had
already eyed a nice rotund cow in the shed and was waiting for the right moment
to strike. Just when I was about to pounce, the bleating of a goat alerted the
members in the house. In a flash I had to decide what I should do. I leapt and
ran but the channel was still a distance away. Suddenly a pack of dogs crossed
my path and started chasing me. It took me a while to realize that I was
running in the opposite direction and finally jumped into an empty torn-down
shed. I was in panic and completely disoriented. The dogs kept circling the
shed and in a short time there was a large crowd around armed with sticks and
fire torches. I was trapped! This time when I looked in their eyes, it was not
devoid of expression, in fact it was mixed with fear and a sense of victory; perhaps
a certain degree of vengeance! The last thing I could remember was a sharp pain
in my thigh after which I passed out. I had a faint sensation that I was being
carried but could not gather an aorta of strength to move. Mentally I had
succumbed to my fate that this was the end of me and my tenure in the forests.
I
woke up groggy inside a cage surrounded by mangroves. My head was strangely
heavy and I could feel something around my neck. Though felt a little heavy I
could not believe that I was alive! I licked my paws to see whether this was a
dream or a reality. I tried to get the feel of the “thing” around my neck with
my paws. It resembled a necklace with a small locket, something which I have
often seen around the neck of the womenfolk here. In my dazed stupor, I tried once
to break open this new jewel around my neck but in vain. At a distance, a group
of people on a boat were peering at me. Suddenly with a creaking noise, I sensed
that the gate was opening up and without any further delay, I disappeared into
the forest in three leaps and the din of the boat faded away.
Over
a period of time I learnt to realize that the choices others make determine our
destinies. When a Moule enters the
forest, it is the choice I make which determines his fate. In the same way my
fate is determined by the people when I set my foot in a village. This time
they made a choice for me to live! There are two words that aptly describe our
lives in the Sundarbans; agony and ecstasy. Within the ecstasy of these magical
forests lies the agony. The agony of loss; of people and livelihoods and for denizens
like me who are losing an inch of this forest every day to new misfortunes;
both natural and man-made. As we both scrounge for space in a sinking world all
I hope is that my tribe and I are able to survive these odds and make it to the
future.
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