The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [117]
On our bhotbhoti, we shouted to the pilot to move closer so that we could be of help. He was hesitant, afraid of the police, but we persuaded him that the police would not harm a group of schoolmasters, that he had nothing to fear.
We edged closer, moving slowly so as not to hit anyone in the water. Leaning over the side, we extended our hands and pulled in one, two, a dozen people. The water fortunately was not deep, and many were able to wade ashore.
I asked one of the men we had pulled in, “Do you know Kusum Mandol? Was she on the boat?”
He knew her; he shook his head. She was still on the island, he told me, and I was giddy with relief. Little did I know how things were shaping up there.
Soon the policemen came speeding up to us. “Who are you people?” they demanded to know. “What are you doing here?” They paid no heed to answers; they told us that with Section 144 having been declared, we could be arrested for unlawful assembly.
We were just schoolmasters, most of the men had families, children. We quailed; we went to the shore to drop off the people we had pulled from the water and then we turned back.
My pen is out of ink and I must switch to my pencil stub. Every footstep I hear is a reminder that Kusum and Horen will soon be back, and that Horen will want to leave at once. But I cannot stop. There’s too much to tell.
WORDS
ENSCONCED IN Nirmal’s study, Kanai forgot about dinner. He was still reading when the compound’s generator shut down and the lights went off. He knew there was a kerosene lamp somewhere in the study, and he was fumbling for it in the dark when he heard a footfall in the doorway.
“Kanai-babu?”
It was Moyna, holding a candle. “Do you need a match?” she said. “I came to get the tiffin carrier and saw you still hadn’t eaten.”
“I was on my way down,” said Kanai. “I was just looking for the hurricane lamp.”
“There it is.”
Moyna went over to the lamp, candle in hand, and snapped back the glass cover. She was trying to light the wick when her hands slipped, sending both the lamp and the candle crashing to the floor. The glass shattered and the study was suddenly filled with the acrid smell of kerosene.
The candle had rolled into a corner and although the flame was out, Kanai saw that the wick was still glowing. “Quick.” Falling to his knees, he lunged for the candle. “Pinch out the wick or it’ll set fire to the kerosene. The whole place will burn down.”
He took the candle out of Moyna’s hands and squeezed the glowing wick between finger and thumb. “It’s all right — it’s out now. We just have to sweep up the glass.”
“I’ll do it, Kanai-babu,” she said.
“It’ll be quicker if we both do it.” Kneeling beside her, Kanai began to brush his hands gingerly over the floor.
“Why did you let your dinner get cold, Kanai-babu?” Moyna said. “Why didn’t you eat?”
“I was busy getting ready for tomorrow,” Kanai said. “You know we’re leaving early in the morning? I’m going too.”
“Yes,” said Moyna, “I heard. And I’m glad you’re going, Kanaibabu.”
“Why?” said Kanai. “Are you tired of bringing me my meals?”
“No,” she said. “It’s not that.”
“Then?”
“I’m just glad that you’ll be there, Kanai-babu; that they won’t be alone.”
“Who?”
“The two of them.” Her voice was suddenly serious.
“You mean Fokir and Piya?”
“Who else, Kanai-babu? I was really relieved when I heard you were going to be with them. To tell you the truth, I was hoping you would talk to him a little.”
“To Fokir? Talk about what?”
“About her — the American,” Moyna said. “Maybe you could explain to him that she’s only here for a few days — that she’s going to be gone soon.”
“But he knows that, doesn’t he?”
He could hear her sari rustling in the darkness as she pulled it tightly around herself. “It would be good for him to hear it from you, Kanai-babu. Who knows what he’s begun to expect — especially when she’s giving him so much money? Maybe you could speak with her too — just to explain she would do him harm if she made him forget himself.”
“But why me, Moyna?” Kanai