The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [135]
“For what you said back there?” Kanai smiled. “That’s all right — you had every right to be upset.”
She shook her head. “No — it’s not just that.”
“Then?”
“Do you remember what you were telling me yesterday?” she said. “Fact is, you were right and I was wrong.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“You know,” said Piya. “What you said about there being nothing in common between —?”
“You and Fokir?”
“Yes,” said Piya. “You were right. I was just being stupid. I guess it took something like this for me to get it straight.”
Kanai choked back the first triumphant comment that came to his mind, and said instead, in as neutral a voice as he could muster, “And how did this revelation come to be granted to you?”
“By what just happened,” said Piya. “I couldn’t believe Fokir’s response.”
“But what did you expect, Piya?” Kanai said. “Did you think he was some kind of grass-roots ecologist? He’s not. He’s a fisherman — he kills animals for a living.”
“I understand that,” said Piya. “I’m not blaming him; I know this is what he grew up with. It’s just, I thought somehow he’d be different.”
Kanai placed a sympathetic hand on her knee. “Let’s not dwell on this,” he said. “After all, you have a lot of work to do.” She raised her head and forced a smile.
THE MEGHA HAD been under way for about an hour when a gray motorboat roared past it. Piya was in the bow with her binoculars and Kanai was sitting in the shade. They moved to the gunwale to watch as the boat sped downriver and they saw it was filled with khaki-uniformed forest guards. It seemed to be heading in the direction of the village they had left.
Horen came to join them and said something that made Kanai laugh. “According to Horen,” Kanai explained to Piya, “if you’re caught between a pirate and a forester, you should always give yourself up to the pirate. You’ll be safer.”
Piya nodded wryly, recalling her own experience with the forest guard. “What do you think they’re going to do to that village?” she said.
Kanai shrugged. “There’ll be arrests, fines, beatings. Who knows what else?”
Another hour went by and then, while crossing a mohona, they spotted a small flotilla of gray motorboats. These were heading in the same direction as the motorboat they had passed earlier.
“Wow!” said Piya. “Looks like they mean business.”
“I’m sure they do.”
Suddenly one of the motorboats parted company with the others and swung around. As it picked up speed it became clear that it had set its course to intercept the Megha. On catching sight of it Horen thrust his head out of the wheelhouse and spoke urgently to Kanai.
“Piya, you’ve got to go to your cabin,” said Kanai. “Horen says there’ll be trouble if they find you on the boat. It’s something to do with your being a foreigner and not having the right kind of permit.”
“OK.” Piya carried her backpack to her cabin and pulled the door shut. She lay down on her bunk and listened to the sound of the motorboat’s engine as it grew gradually louder. When it was cut off, she knew the boat had pulled up alongside. She heard people conversing in Bengali, politely at first and then with increasing acrimony: Kanai’s voice was counterpointed against a number of others.
A good hour passed. Arguments went back and forth and voices rose and fell. Piya was glad she had a bottle of water with her, for the cabin grew steadily hotter as the day advanced.
At length the voices died down and the motorboat pulled away. A knock sounded on Piya’s door just as the Megha’s engine was coming alive again. She was relieved to find Kanai standing outside.
“What was all that about?” she said.
Kanai made a face. “Apparently they’d heard a foreigner was at the village yesterday when the tiger was killed. They’re very exercised about it.”
“Why?”
“They said it’s a security risk for a foreigner to be wandering about so close to the border without a guard. But my feeling is that they just don’t want the news to get out.”
“About the killing?”
“Yes.” Kanai nodded. “It makes them