Non-Fiction
With Amitav Ghosh . . . to the Sundarbans
Asfa Hussain with Amitav Ghosh
Amitav Ghosh is one of the most widely known Indian Bengalis writing in English today. His popularly read books are The Hungry Tide and The Glass Palace. Others that follow are the highly praised The Calcutta Chromosome, In Antique Land, Dancing in Cambodia and The Shadow Lines, conceived in shimmering and monumental epics and myths. His most recent (and the first in his new trilogy of novels) Sea of Poppies is a stunningly vibrant and intensely human work that confirms his reputation as a master story teller. One of his most popular works written on the Indian side of the Sundarbans, The Hungry Tide, was read not long ago in Dhaka at The Reading Circle (initiated by Professor Niaz Zaman), which meets once a month. TRC is a group of serious book readers and lovers of literature and has been gaining increasing popularity among literature buffs. Amitav Ghosh's visit to Dhaka on 21 February 2008 took place against the backdrop of collaboration between TRC and Independent University Bangladesh (IUB). Ghosh would be writer-in-residence at IUB. Amitav Ghosh is not only a story teller, a novelist of extraordinary talent mesmerizing his readers with suspense, mysteries, human relationships between races and classes and myths bound with actual happenings. He is also an anthropologist by training. He is a writer by choice. He gave up a lucrative teaching career at reputed American universities to do what he likes doing best, which is to share a story with his readers. He is a writer who looks, listens and narrates a story, translates history into myth, the subjects consequential to historical circumstances. He interweaves historical events with myths, creating fiction, which gives his writing substance and balance. There is always something to know, things that happened in the past, facts forgotten brought forth to the reader in his existing state of mind. Ghosh's style is simple and straightforward, portraying ordinary beings possessed of unique values to convey the very spirituality of individual inner strength in varied circumstances. This very aptly surfaces in The Hungry Tide, the story of Piyali Roy, an American-Indian in search of rare river dolphins. Her encounter with Kania Dutt, a Delhi businessman, and her meeting with Fokir the boatman, their relationship that disturbs the delicate balance of settlement life are at the core of the tale. The writer's masterful story telling abilities came alive during what properly was a literary tour of the Sundarbans. With Amitav Ghosh on the tour, organized by The Reading Circle on board 'The Chutti', a perfect boat of the Guide Tours, were, among others, the delightfully chatty Elisabeth Fahrni Monsur and the experienced Razia Quadir. Both have a powerful pulse on conservation issues, one on the Ganges river dolphins, whales and porpoises, the other on the behavioral patterns of tigers and their habitats. Their expert opinions on the forest sparked immense interest, with the trip extending to three nights of breathtaking magnificent sunsets deep among the tall mature sundari trees and the mangrove, the last wilderness, a natural treasure of vital importance for Bangladesh and India. Amitav Ghosh, sitting in our midst to catch those moments, was a distinctive experience of fulfillment, sharing tales of expeditions and the mysteries of the Sundarbans, followed by casual and laidback conversations on food, family and relaxation. And, of course, knowing the much-at-ease-Amitav was indulgence indeed. The writer's presence unfolded pages; and the superstition and legend of 'Bon Bibi', which he had painted in words in the The Hungry Tide came alive on the waters and on the shores. The pages of the book transcended banal reality in the surrounding ambience. The popularity and the legend of the traditional 'Bon Bibi' is much prevalent in the villages surrounding the Sundarbans. People of all religious denominations have long prayed to the 'Bibi' for protection as they believe she has powers over wild animals. Much of the forest on the Bangladesh side is uninhabited. On the eastern edge near the forest checkposts are tiny fishing communities of honey, wax and golpata collectors and woodcutters. Each year a 'Bon Bibi' mela is held, underscoring the integral part of local culture and heritage. We witnessed the Sidr ravished forest sprouting back to life, the colours of the forest gradually turning into various shades of green. Birds, mammals and nature coexisted with renewed vigour to replace the decay and destruction; the forest wore its beauty with pride as though nothing had happened; the fragile ecosystem turned around and threaded together to balance with the law of nature. Those of us who had read the book imagined and recreated the passages into reality. That was our state of mind during the journey. The high tides wash the shores several times a day, leaving a trail of comical mudskippers nibbling on hermit crabs, snails and slugs. Often there are sightings of tiger pugmarks, wild boars, otters, civet fishing cats, and the shy large masked fin foot, a rare species, after the recess of the high tide. The tide leaves nutrients from the waters on the banks to sustain life. Amitav Ghosh is shy, gentle and soft-spoken. Secretly amused by our tete-e-tete, within a few hours he was addressing us by our first names as though he knew us from long before. The chats and laughter on the deck and bridge, in the dining lounge, the exchange of recipes brought forth the essences of food. The thought and taste was essentially what we all enjoyed, as we ate the wonderful sumptuous meals on board. On the 26th it was time for him to depart, to Kolkata via land route, to finalize the draft of the much-awaited Sea of Poppies. I did feel a little sad to see those five days of excitement of having him in such close proximity come to an end. He stepped into the waiting speedboat to take him to Mongla and from there by car to the border with India. We said our goodbyes, his right hand waving, his distinguished silvery hair tousled with the salty cool morning breeze, his hand waving, till we could see him no more.
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