 |
| Daily struggle |
Sunderbans- if you google it, you
will come across the words like mangrove and largest delta. These words
however, hardly captures the essence of the place. Sunderban is 45 kms from
Kolkata and in just 2 hours you can reach the outskirts. You will be greeted by
people who look quite similar to you and me- wearing Bata sandals, jeans,
salwar kameezes and going about their way of life. If you ask, they will tell
you which shop sells authentic wild honey; which shop to go to for the Gur
Patali. A wide bridge now connects the islands with Kolkata and you are happy
still to be part of civilization. Mobile tower is there for you to stay
connected. You will be told by the tour operators to wake up early; hot water
will be given for your morning chores and then you can set off for a visit to
the forest on a launch. Everything is as it should be. It is winter, as you can
see, best time to visit Sunderban.
 |
| Hope of surviving |
When you are happily ensconced in the warmth
of the morning tea and bath, women are already out and knee deep in the icy
waters of the backwaters or the “Khari”. They will stay there till the sun is
up and it gets little warm. Their feet is turned white for staying so long in
the saline water everyday- they are collecting the meen- baby prawns. For every
bucket they will get only 25 rupees. If they try to cheat, their contract will
be taken away by the Bheri wallahs. Most men by now are far away from the
shores catching fish. They have to come back and sell their produce at the
whole sale market by 12 so that they reach Kolkata markets by evening so that
you and I can buy them on the way returning from our offices.
Boards have been put up at many
parts of the forest- It is now illegal to collect honey or timber from these
areas. The government is taking all measures to protect the national animal. You
will be entertained by the stories of women who have survived an attack by the
tiger- how only with a sickle they fought back and took out an eye or a paw off
from the tiger. How a tiger can cross a mouth of seven rivers locally called
“Saptamukhi” and take away cattle. How a tiger tracks the honey collectors for
several kilometeres to target the weakest among the men and wait for the
opportunity to pounce on him.
In the meantime unknown to you, people are struggling to
raise even one crop of paddy. Post Aila half of the soil has become saline. So
the yield is low and unlike other areas where flood is a harbinger of
productivity, here people have started to dread the floods as more flood mean
more salinity. The fresh water ponds used to raise the fish have been destroyed
by Aila so that livelihood is also snatched away.
It comes to you as a very exotic tribal ritual when the front
of the launch is painted red and a few flowers and agarbatti offered everyday
by the head “Majhi”. You take photos of this ritual to show how you have been
part of this exotic ritual.. maybe even recite the “Bonbibipaaala” in your
drawing room next Saturday.
However, if you can take one step back in time, you will see
how relevant this legend still is. How and why it is an enduring tale still
recited by the people of Sunderbans- How they relate to “Dukhi” – the epitome
of sorrow and how miraculously he is saved by Bonbibi. You will see that people
of sunderban need to believe in this story, more now than ever before because
they all wish the same- survive in the face of fierce wrath of nature
compounded by power hungry bureaucrats and “shohure- babu”- those city people
who draw up the policies without visiting them even once.
Here is a glimpse of that play. One of the Majhis in the play
had been a school master. He lost his job when the school was destroyed by
Aila. Then he was given the job of a tourist guide. He took up the job happily
believing that now he would have some security. Unfortunately, the policy
makers decided that such people deserve a blue uniform and an Identity card- that’s
all. Whatever money they earn from the day is for theirs to keep but not to
expect any allowance or pension- very magnanimous indeed- they gave him a job.
We are called for dinner by the tour operators. It is the last night in Sunderban. Tomorrow by evening I shall be home. The Paala wallahs are picking up their little props and costumes and putting it back in a large tin trunk. The care with which they fold each garment is the only testimony of their plight- that one trunk is their hope of survival- soon the tourist season will be over. However cold the nights are, however far they are from their homes, they will trudge on reciting their " Bonbibi Paala" for us..They will survive another year. Only Bonbibi knows what will happen next year... she will take care of them. If not, then also it would be according to what is written already - their fate. 