The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [137]
“But Kanai,” Piya retorted, “everywhere in the world dozens of people are killed every day — on roads, in cars, in traffic. Why is this any worse?”
“Because we’re complicit in this, Piya, that’s why.”
Piya dissociated herself with a shake of the head. “I don’t see how I’m complicit.”
“Because it was people like you,” said Kanai, “who made a push to protect the wildlife here, without regard for the human costs. And I’m complicit because people like me — Indians of my class, that is — have chosen to hide these costs, basically in order to curry favor with their Western patrons. It’s not hard to ignore the people who’re dying — after all, they are the poorest of the poor. But just ask yourself whether this would be allowed to happen anywhere else. There are more tigers living in America, in captivity, than there are in all of India — what do you think would happen if they started killing human beings?”
“But Kanai,” said Piya, “there’s a big difference between preserving a species in captivity and keeping it in its habitat.”
“And what is that difference exactly?”
“The difference, Kanai,” Piya said slowly and emphatically, “is that it was what was intended — not by you or me, but by nature, by the earth, by the planet that keeps us all alive. Just suppose we crossed that imaginary line that prevents us from deciding that no other species matters except ourselves. What’ll be left then? Aren’t we alone enough in the universe? And do you think it’ll stop at that? Once we decide we can kill off other species, it’ll be people next — just the kind of people you’re thinking of, people who’re poor and unnoticed.”
“That’s all very well for you to say, Piya — but it’s not you who’s paying the price in lost lives.”
Piya challenged him. “Do you think I wouldn’t pay the price if I thought it necessary?”
“You mean you’d be willing to die?” Kanai scoffed. “Come on, Piya.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Kanai,” Piya said quietly. “If I thought giving up my life might make the rivers safe again for the Irrawaddy dolphin, the answer is yes, I would. But the trouble is that my life, your life, a thousand lives would make no difference.”
“It’s easy to say these things —”
“Easy?” There was a parched weariness in Piya’s voice now. “Kanai, tell me, do you see anything easy about what I do? Look at me: I have no home, no money and no prospects. My friends are thousands of miles away and I get to see them maybe once a year, if I’m lucky. And that’s the least of it. On top of that is the knowledge that what I’m doing is more or less futile.”
She looked up and he saw that there were tears in her eyes. “There’s nothing easy about this, Kanai,” she said. “You have to take that back.”
He swallowed the quick retort that had come to his lips. Instead, he reached for her hand and placed it between his own. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I take it back.”
She snatched her hand away and rose to her feet. “I’d better get back to work.”
As she returned to her place, he called out, “You’re a brave woman. Do you know that?”
She shrugged this off in embarrassment. “I’m just doing my job.”
MR. SLOANE
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON when Garjontola came into view and the water was at its lowest ebb. Piya was on watch as the Megha approached the pool, and her heart leapt when she saw that the dolphins had congregated there, punctually following the flow of the tides. For the sake of their safety, she signaled to Horen to drop anchor while the Megha was still half a mile or so away.
Kanai had come to the bow to stand beside her and she said, “Would you like to look at the dolphins close up?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I’m anxious to meet the beast to which you’ve pledged your troth.”
“Come along, then. We’ll go in Fokir’s boat.”
They went aft to the Megha’s stern and found Fokir waiting with his oars in hand. Piya stepped over and went to her usual place in