The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [121]
Kanai was on the upper deck, where two deep, wood-framed chairs had been placed near the wheelhouse, in the shade of a canvas awning. Although Nirmal’s notebook was lying open on his lap, Kanai’s eyes were on Piya: he was watching her make her preparations for the work of the day.
Piya had positioned herself to meet the wind and the sun headon, at the point where the deck tapered into a jutting prow. After garlanding herself with her binoculars, she proceeded to strap on her equipment belt with its dangling instruments. Only then did she take her stance and reach for her glasses, with her feet wide apart, swaying slightly on her legs. Although her eyes were unwavering in their focus on the water, Kanai could tell she was alert to everything happening around her, on the boat and on shore.
As the sun mounted in the sky, the glare off the water increased in intensity until it had all but erased the seam that separated the water from the sky. Despite his sunglasses, Kanai found it hard to keep his eyes on the river — yet Piya seemed to be troubled neither by the light nor by the gusting wind: with her knees flexed to absorb the shaking of the bhotbhoti, she seemed scarcely to notice its rolling as she pivoted from side to side. Her one concession to the conditions was a sun hat, which she had opened out and placed on her head. From his position in the shade, Kanai could see her only in outline and it struck him that her silhouette was not unlike that of a cowboy, with her holsters of equipment around her hips and her widebrimmed hat.
About midmorning there was a flurry of excitement when Fokir’s voice was heard shouting from the boat. Signaling to Horen to cut the bhotbhoti’s engine, Piya went running to the back of the deck. Kanai was quick to follow but by the time he had made his way aft the action was over.
“What happened?”
Piya was busy scribbling on a data sheet and didn’t look up. “Fokir spotted a Gangetic dolphin,” she said. “It was about five hundred feet astern on the starboard side. But don’t bother to look for it; you won’t see it again. It’s sounded.”
Kanai was conscious of a twinge of disappointment. “Have you seen any other dolphins today?”
“No,” she said cheerfully. “That was the only one. And frankly I’m not surprised, considering the noise we’re making.”
“Do you think the bhotbhoti is scaring them off ?”
“Possibly,” said Piya. “Or it could be that they’re just staying submerged until the sound fades. Like this one, for instance — it waited till we were past before it surfaced.”
“Do you think there are fewer dolphins than there used to be?”
“Oh yes,” said Piya. “It’s known for sure that these waters once held large populations of marine mammals.”
“What’s happened to them then?”
“There seems to have been some sort of drastic change in the habitat,” said Piya. “Some kind of dramatic deterioration.”
“Really?” said Kanai. “That was what my uncle felt too.”
“He was right,” said Piya grimly. “When marine mammals begin to disappear from an established habitat it means something’s gone very, very wrong.”
“What could it be, do you think?”
“Where do I begin?” said Piya with a dry laugh. “Let’s not go down that route or we’ll end up in tears.”
Later, when Piya took a break to drink some water, he said, “Is that all you do then? Watch the water like that?”
She seated herself beside him and tipped back her bottle. “Yes,” she said. “There’s a method to it, of course, but basically that’s all I do — I watch the water. Whether I see anything or not, it’s all grist for the mill: all of it’s data.”
He grimaced, miming incomprehension. “Each to their own,” he said. “For myself, I have to say I wouldn’t last a day doing what