The Hungry Tide - Amitav Ghosh [47]
It was at this stage that Horen Naskor had gotten to know of Dilip’s plan. Horen had worked with Kusum’s father, and he also happened to be distantly related to Kusum through his wife. He had sought her out and warned her that Dilip was linked to a gang that trafficked in women. What kind of job could this procurer have found for Kusum’s mother? She was probably trapped in a brothel somewhere in Sonargachhi. As for Kusum, she was of much greater value to Dilip than her mother had been — young girls like her were known to fetch large sums of money. If Dilip had his way, she would end up either in Calcutta’s red-light district or, worse still, in some brothel in Bombay. Instead, Horen had brought Kusum to Lusibari and put her in the custody of the Women’s Union. Pending some more permanent arrangement, all the Union’s members, in turn, would look after her.
During the months she had spent in Lusibari, Kusum had come to know the island well, and she became Kanai’s guide and mentor: she told him about its people and their children and about everything happening around it — cockfights and pujas, births and deaths. Kanai, for his part, would tell her about his school, his friends and the ways of the city. Although to him these stories seemed pale in comparison with hers, she would listen with rapt attention, breaking in from time to time to ask questions.
“Do you think I can come to the city with you?” she asked once. “I’d like to see where you live.”
This silenced Kanai. It amazed him that Kusum should even ask such a question. Did she have no idea at all of how things worked? He tried to think of taking her home to Calcutta, and cringed to imagine the tone of voice in which his mother would speak to her and the questions the neighbors would ask. “Is that your new jhi? But don’t you already have that other maid coming to do the washing and sweeping? Why do you need this one?”
“You wouldn’t like Calcutta,” Kanai said at length. “You wouldn’t feel at home.”
It was from Kusum that Kanai learned that a troupe of traveling actors was soon to come to Lusibari to stage performances of The Glory of Bon Bibi. He had heard mention of this story a couple of times on the island but was unsure about its particulars. When he asked Kusum about it, she gasped as if in shock: “You mean you don’t know the story of Bon Bibi?”
“No.”
“Then whom do you call on when you’re afraid?”
Unable to untangle the implications of this, Kanai changed the subject. But the question nagged at his mind, and later in the day he asked Nirmal about the story of Bon Bibi.
Nirmal waved him airily away. “It’s just a tale they tell around here. Don’t bother yourself with it. It’s just false consciousness, that’s all it is.”
“But tell me about it.”
“Horen is the one you should ask,” said Nirmal. “If you did, he would tell you that Bon Bibi rules over the jungle, that the tigers, crocodiles and other animals do her bidding. Haven’t you noticed the little shrines outside the houses here? The statues are of Bon Bibi. You would think that in a place like this people would pay close attention to the true wonders of the reality around them. But no, they prefer the imaginary miracles of gods and saints.”
“But tell me the story,” said Kanai. “Who is it about? What happens?”
“It’s all the usual stuff.” Nirmal threw up his hands in impatience. “Gods, saints, animals, demons. It’s too long for me to tell. Better you find out for yourself. Go to the performance.”
The stage for The Glory of Bon Bibi was erected on the open expanse of Lusibari’s maidan, between the compound of Hamilton House and the school. Its design was so simple that it took less than a day to set up. The floor, a few planks of wood, was laid on a trestle and enclosed within an open scaffolding of bamboo poles. During performances, sheets of painted cloth were suspended from the poles at the rear. These served as backdrops for the audience and as screens for the actors, so they could eat, smoke