The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [109]
“What do you think?” said Kanai. “Will it work?”
“Yes,” said Piya. “It’s a great idea. It’ll be much easier to follow the dolphins in his boat.”
With Kanai translating, the bhotbhoti’s terms were quickly agreed upon. Although Piya would not allow Kanai to contribute to the rental, she agreed to split the costs of the journey’s provisions. They handed over a sum of money for Horen to buy rice, dal, oil, tea, bottled water, a couple of chickens and, specifically for Piya, a plentiful supply of powdered milk.
“It’s so exciting,” said Piya as they headed back to the Guest House. “I can’t wait to leave. I’d better get all my laundry done this morning.”
“And I’d better go and tell my aunt I’m going to be away for a couple of days,” said Kanai. “I don’t know how she’s going to take it.”
NILIMA’S DOOR WAS open and Kanai entered to find her sitting at her desk, sipping a cup of tea. Her smile of greeting turned quickly into a curious frown. “What’s the matter-ré Kanai? Is something wrong?”
“No, there’s nothing wrong,” said Kanai awkwardly. “I just wanted to tell you, Mashima, that I’m going to be away for a few days.”
“You’re going away?” she said. “But you’ve only just come.”
“I know,” said Kanai. “I hope you won’t mind. But Piya’s hired a bhotbhoti to track her dolphins. She needs someone to translate.”
“Oh, I see!” said Nilima, in English, drawing out the words. “So you’re going with her, then?”
Knowing how precious Nirmal’s memory was to her, Kanai said gently, “And I thought I would take the notebook along with me. If it’s all right with you?”
“You’ll be careful with it, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“How much have you read?”
“I’m well into it,” said Kanai. “I’ll be done by the time I get back.”
“All right, then. I won’t ask you any more about it now,” Nilima said. “But tell me this, Kanai. Where exactly are you going?”
Kanai scratched his head. The fact was, he didn’t know and had not thought to ask. But a habitual unwillingness to acknowledge ignorance led him to pick the name of a river at random: “I think we’ll be going down the Tarobãki River — into the forest.”
“So you’re heading into the jungle?” said Nilima, looking him over speculatively.
“I suppose so,” Kanai said uncertainly.
Nilima rose from her desk and came to stand in front of him. “Kanai, I hope you’ve thought this over properly.”
“Yes, of course I have,” said Kanai, feeling suddenly like a schoolboy.
“No, I don’t think you have, Kanai,” said Nilima with her hands on her hips. “And I don’t blame you. I know that for outsiders it’s very hard to conceive of the dangers.”
“The tigers, you mean?” Kanai said. A smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Why would a tiger pick me when it could have a tasty young morsel like Piya?”
“Kanai,” scolded Nilima, “this is not a joke. I know that in this day and age, in the twenty-first century, it’s difficult for you to imagine yourself being attacked by a tiger. The trouble is that over here it’s not in the least bit out of the ordinary. It happens several times each week.”
“As often as that?” said Kanai.
“Yes. More,” said Nilima. “Look, I’ll show you something.” She took hold of Kanai’s elbow and led him across the room to one of the many stacks of shelves that lined the walls. “Look,” she said, pointing to a sheaf of files, “I’ve been keeping unofficial records for years, based on word-of-mouth reports. My belief is that over a hundred people are killed by tigers here each year. And, mind you, I’m just talking about the Indian part of the Sundarbans. If you include the Bangladesh side, the figure is probably twice that. If you put the figures together, it means that a human being is killed by a tiger every other day in the Sundarbans — at the very least.”
Kanai raised his eyebrows. “I knew there were killings,” he said, “but I never thought there were as many as that.”
“That’s the trouble,” said Nilima. “Nobody knows exactly how many killings there are. None of the figures are reliable. But of this I’m sure: there are many