The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [111]
“So are you saying the tigers are actually able to think these things through?” said Kanai.
“I don’t know, Kanai,” Nilima said. “I’ve lived here for over fifty years and I’ve never seen a tiger. Nor do I want to. I’ve come to believe what people say in these parts: that if you see a tiger, the chances are you won’t live to tell the tale. That’s why I’m telling you, Kanai, you can’t go into the jungle on a whim. Before you go you should ask yourself whether you really need to.”
“But I’m not planning to go into the jungle at all,” Kanai replied. “I’m going to be on the bhotbhoti, well removed from any harm.”
“And you think a bhotbhoti is going to keep you from harm?”
“We’ll be out on the water, well away from shore. What can happen there?”
“Kanai, let me tell you something. Nine years ago, a tiger killed a young girl right here in Lusibari. They found later that it had swum all the way across the Bidya’s mohona and back again. Do you know how far that is?”
“No.”
“Three and a half miles each way. And that’s not unusual: they’ve been known to swim as much as eight miles at a stretch. So don’t for a moment imagine that the water will give you any safety. Boats and bhotbhotis are attacked all the time — even in midstream. It happens several times each year.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Nilima nodded. “And if you don’t believe me, just take a close look at any of the Forest Department’s boats. You’ll see they’re like floating fortresses. Their windows have steel bars as thick as my wrist. And that’s despite the fact that forest guards carry arms. Tell me, does your bhotbhoti have bars on its windows?”
Kanai scratched his head. “I don’t remember.”
“There you are,” Nilima said. “You didn’t even notice. I don’t think you understand what you’re getting into. Leave aside the animals — those boats and bhotbhotis are more dangerous than anything in the jungle. Every month we hear of one or two going down.”
“There’s no reason for you to worry,” said Kanai. “I won’t take any risks.”
“But Kanai, don’t you see? To our way of thinking, you are the risk. The others are going because they need to — but not you. You’re going on a whim, a kheyal. You don’t have any pressing reason to go.”
“That’s not true; I do have a reason —” Kanai had spoken without thinking and cut himself off in midsentence.
“Kanai?” said Nilima. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“Oh, it’s just —” He could not think of what to say next and hung his head.
She looked at him shrewdly. “It’s that girl, isn’t it? Piya?”
Kanai looked away in silence, and she said, with a bitterness he had never heard in her voice before, “You’re all the same, you men. Who can blame the tigers when predators like you pass for human beings?”
She took hold of Kanai’s elbow and led him to the door. “Be careful, Kanai — just be careful.”
MEMORY
After we had spent a half hour with the dolphins, Horen began to row toward the shore of Garjontola. As we were drawing closer, Horen looked at me with a mischievous smile. “Saar,” he said, “now the time to go ashore is at hand. Tell me, Saar, bhoi ta ter paisen? Do you feel the fear?”
“The fear?” I said. “What do you mean, Horen? Why should I be afraid? Aren’t you with me?”
“Because it’s the fear that protects you, Saar; it’s what keeps you alive. Without it the danger doubles.”
“So are you afraid, then, Horen?”
“Yes, Saar,” he said. “Look at me. Don’t you see the fear on my face?”
And now that I looked more closely, it was true that I could see something out of the ordinary on his face — an alertness, a gravity, a sharpening of the eyes. The tension was of a kind that communicated itself readily: it didn’t take long before I could say to Horen, truthfully, that I was just as afraid as he was.
“Yes, Horen. I feel it.”
“That’s good, Saar. That’s good.”
When the boat was some fifty feet from the shore, Horen stopped rowing and put away his oars. Shutting his eyes, he began to mumble and make gestures with his hands.
“What is he doing?” I said to Kusum.
“Don’t you know, Saar?” she said.