The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [115]
“Has he always been like that?” Piya said. “So driven?”
“Some would say selfish,” said Nilima. “Kanai’s problem is that he’s always been too clever for his own good. Things have come very easily to him so he doesn’t know what the world is like for most people.”
Piya could see that this judgment was both shrewd and accurate but she knew it was not her place to concur. “I haven’t known him long enough to have an opinion,” she said politely.
“No, I don’t suppose you have,” said Nilima. “Just a word of warning, my dear. Fond as I am of my nephew, I feel I should tell you that he’s one of those men who likes to think of himself as being irresistible to the other sex. Unfortunately, the world doesn’t lack for women who’re foolish enough to confirm such a man’s opinion of himself, and Kanai seems always to be looking for them. I don’t know how you describe that kind of man nowadays, my dear — but in my time we used to call them ‘fast.’” She paused, raising her eyebrows. “Do you get my meaning?”
“I sure do.”
Nilima nodded and blew her nose into the hem of her sari. “Anyway, I mustn’t be rattling on like this. You have a long day ahead tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Piya. “We’re starting early. I’m really looking forward to it.”
Nilima put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “Do be careful, my dear. It’s dangerous in the forest — and not just because of the animals.”
BESIEGED
A few days after my trip to Garjontola, Nilima returned from her travels, full of news of the world outside. Almost in passing she said, “And as for Morichjhãpi, there are soon going to be developments.”
My ears pricked up. “What developments?”
“The government is going to take measures. Very strong measures.”
I said nothing but began to wonder if there was any way I could get word to Kusum, to warn the settlers. As it turned out, no warning was possible. The very next day the government announced that all movement in and out of Morichjhãpi was banned under the provisions of the Forest Preservation Act. What was more, Section 144, the law used to quell civil disturbances, was imposed on the whole area: this meant it was a criminal offense for five people or more to gather in one place.
As the day wore on, waves of rumors came sweeping down our rivers: it was said that dozens of police boats had encircled the island, tear gas and rubber bullets had been used, the settlers had been forcibly prevented from bringing rice or water to Morichjhãpi, boats had been sunk, people had been killed. The rumors grew more and more disturbing as the day passed; it was as if war had broken out in the quiet recesses of the tide country.
For Nilima’s sake I tried to keep up appearances, to present as normal a front as I could. But I could not sleep that night and by the time morning came I knew I would make my way to Morichjhãpi in whatever way I could, even at the expense of a confrontation with Nilima. But fortunately that contingency did not arise — not yet, anyway. Early in the morning a group of schoolmasters came to see me; they had heard the same rumors I had, and they too had become concerned. So much so that they had hired a bhotbhoti to take them to Morichjhãpi to see if any intercession was possible. They asked if I wanted to join them, and I was only too glad to say yes.
We left at about ten in the morning and were in view of our destination within a couple of hours. I should say here that Morichjhãpi is a large island, one of the biggest in the tide country: its coastline is probably a dozen miles long. When we were within sight of the island but still a good mile or two away, we saw clouds of smoke rising above it.
Not long afterward we spotted official motorboats patrolling the rivers. The owner of our bhotbhoti now became quite concerned and we had to plead with him to take us a little closer. He agreed to do so, but only on the condition that we stay by the near shore, as far as possible from the island. And so we proceeded, hugging this shore while all