Amitav Ghosh - The Hungry Tide

“You know, Nilima,” she said at last, “for me, home is where the Orcaella are, so there’s no reason why this couldn’t be it.”

Nilima’s eyes opened wide and she burst into laughter. “See, Piya,” she said. “That’s the difference between us. For me, home is wherever I can brew a pot of good tea.”

The characters in this novel are fictitious, as are its two principal settings, Lusibari and Garjontola. However, the secondary locations, such as Canning, Gosaba, Satjelia, Morichjhãpi and Emilybari, do exist and were founded or settled in the manner alluded to here.

My uncle, the late Shri Satish Chandra Ghosh, was for more than a decade the headmaster of the Rural Reconstruction Institute, the high school founded by Sir Daniel Hamilton in Gosaba. For some years before his untimely death, in 1967, he was also the manager of the Hamilton Estate. To him and to his son, my cousin Subroto Ghosh, I am greatly beholden for my earliest linkages of memory with the tide country.

One of the world’s leading cetologists, Professor Helene Marsh of James Cook University, generously responded to an e-mail inquiry from an absolute stranger. I can never thank her enough for putting me in touch with her student Isabel Beasley, a specialist in the study of Orcaella brevirostris. By allowing me to accompany her on a survey expedition on the Mekong, Isabel Beasley introduced me to the ways of the Irrawaddy dolphin and to those of the cetologist. My gratitude to her is exceeded only by my admiration for her fortitude and dedication.

I had the privilege of being able to travel in the tide country with Annu Jalais, one of those rare scholars who combines immense personal courage with extraordinary linguistic and intellectual gifts: her research into the history and culture of the region will, I am certain, soon come to be regarded as definitive. For the example of her integrity, as for her unstinting generosity in sharing her knowledge, I owe Annu Jalais an immense debt of gratitude.

On the island of Rangabelia, which was once a part of the old Hamilton Estate, I had the good fortune of making the acquaintance of Tushar Kanjilal, the retired headmaster of the local high school. In 1969, together with his wife, the late Shrimati Bina Kanjilal, he started a small voluntary organization that later merged with another, the Tagore Society of Rural Development (TSRD). Under Tushar Kanjilal’s stewardship this organization launched a number of innovative projects. In an area where the public infrastructure was all but nonexistent, it succeeded in creating a range of invaluable medical and social services. Today the standard of care offered by the TSRD’s hospital in Rangabelia is no less remarkable than the dedication of its staff. In this context I would like to mention, in particular, Dr. Amitava Choudhury, who became for me, in the course of my visits to the tide country, an exemplar of idealism. The TSRD’s programs now extend well beyond the state of West Bengal and cover such diverse fields as the empowerment of women, primary health care and the improvement of agricultural practices: in their breadth and effectiveness the programs are the best possible tribute to their founders. (For information about the TSRD, visit the following Web sites: www.indev.nic.in/tsrd and www.geocities.com/gosaba_little hearts.)

Around the time of its occurrence, the Morichjhãpi incident was widely discussed in the Calcutta press, English as well as Bengali. Today the only historical treatment available in English is an article by Ross Mallick, “Refugee Resettlement in Forest Reserves: West Bengal Policy Reversal and the Marichjhãpi Massacre” ( Journal of Asian Studies 58:1, 1999, pp. 103–125). Nilanjana Chatterjee’s excellent dissertation, “Midnight’s Unwanted Children: East Bengali Refugees and the Politics of Rehabilitation” (Brown University) has unfortunately never been published. Annu Jalais’s article, “Dwelling on Marichjhampi,” is also yet to be published.

I am grateful to B. Poulin and Houghton Mifflin for permission to quote from A. Poulin Jr.’s 1977 translation of Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies : this remains, for me, the definitive English rendition. All references to Bengali versions of the Elegies are from the superb translations published by Buddhadeva Basu in the late 1960s. These are now available in the collected edition of Buddhadeva Basu’s poetry, Kabita Sangraha ( Pancham Khanda ), edited by Mukul Guha (Dey’s Publishing, Kolkata, 1994).

I would also like to acknowledge the help, support and hospitality, variously, of the following: Leela and Horen Mandol, Tuhin Mandol, the Santa Maddalena Foundation, Mohanlal Mandol, Anil Kumar Mandol, Amites Mukhopadhyay, Parikshit Bar, James Simpson, Clint Seely, Edward Yazijian, Abhijit Bannerjee and Dr. Gopinath Burman. To my sister, Dr. Chaitali Basu, I owe a special word of thanks. For the care they have taken with this book, I am greatly indebted to Janet Silver, Susan Watt and Karl Blessing, as also to Agnes Krup and Barney Karpfinger of the Karpfinger Agency.

The support of my wife, Debbie, was of inestimable value in the writing of this book. To her, and to my children, Lila and Nayan, my debt is beyond reckoning.