Sundarban, Amitav Ghosh and love of novels

 My introduction to Sundarban in Bengal is primarily through the novels of Dr. Amitav Ghosh. His The Hungry Tide, Gun Island and the recent Ghost Eye has the beautiful forest as one of the main actors in the storyline. So. when one of my former students from Bengal visited the Sunderban, I wanted her to send some pictures of the forest and the rivers to me. She was gracious enough to send them to me, filling my heart and mind. Here are some of the pictures that she had shared with me. 

This picture is special because the red cloth is tied after prayers to the goddess Bonbibi, the deity who appears predominantly in Ghosh's novels. The deity is often invoked for protection from the tigers and other dangers which the local fisherman could face in the mangrove forest.

 

A crocodile

                         

                                         

       The vast expanse of the river which looks lovely

You might wonder that there are many pictures of the Sundarban littered all over the internet then why am I getting so excited over pictures that I procured from my former student. Well, one's lived experience is worth more than the many unknown photographers' pictures on the internet.

Thanks dear Aditi for the beautiful pictures.

Dear reader, I will pause here but leave two posts on the works of Dr. Ghosh which I had written.

1. Revisiting Amitav Ghosh's The Hungry Tide

2. Do you remember your WORDS?

Revisiting Amitav Ghosh's 'The Hungry Tide'

 Revisiting a book once read is like visiting a lover from the past. The context remains while the person has altered. As a rule, I seldom read a book twice; I am afraid that the book will not hold my attention as it did in the past; Just like the past which has given way to newer selves! But alas! I had to revisit The Hungry Tide this time not as a curious reader but as a teacher. Several doubts assailed my mind - whether I would enjoy the book as I once did or would I be able to recreate the book as it unfolded in my mind way back. 

And so, I began rereading The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh!

To my dismay, save the names of the characters and some important details, I seem to have forgotten most of the details of the book. But yes, I remember the conditions that surrounded me while I dived into the text. It was the halcyon days of my student years when reading a book meant no other responsibilities or tasks to compete and complete. I was free of deadlines and my mom would take care of my meals as I was still at home and enjoyed the pleasures of a warm and cozy abode. I allowed myself to be moved by the book feeling the pleasures of the book alongside partaking in the world created by Ghosh. How could I possibly recreate this for my students? When I delved further and further into the book, I realised that I gradually remembered the plot and the various entanglements that it led me into - in short, if revisiting a book could bring so much joy then I don't mind the past appearing before me! But I also knew that not all books could create the same pleasure. There are few other books which I had attempted to read but abandoned them due to a restlessness that bordered on part boredom and part agony. But The Hungry Tide was nothing like that. as I progressed into the lives of Piya, Kanai, Fokir, Kusum, Moyna, Nirmal, Nilima, Horen and Tutul, I felt as though I knew them earlier but now I understand them clearer.

Ghosh is a master weaver of stories. The mixing of history, story and geography is done quite deftly creating a masterpiece that moves the reader. I remember how the worldviews of Piya and Fokir were light years apart yet they find a common ground; I recollect the mad idealism of Nirmal and think of my own Professor with the same name and a similar madness; I remember the anguish that I felt when certain events occur in the plot. 

While revisiting the novel for a class seemed inevitable, I still don't know how to lead the students through the paths that I knew of The Hungry Tide. Will the tide touch their lives, is something only time will unfold. Until then, I revel in the stupor of the revisit!

Do you remember your WORDS?

Burying myself in the watery landscape of Amitav Ghosh's The Hungry Tide, I lift my head to wonder when Piya asks a question, "How words are lost?" The line, for a moment, tore me away from the tides and made me ask myself, "How do we remember words and how do they inhabit us?" The question has been rising up and down in the undulating terrains of my mindscape much like the tides in Gosh's novel. I wonder when the word, 'scintillating' find root in me or when did I caress the word, 'reverie?' Books? Perhaps. Teachers who sprinkled their lessons with lovely-sounding exotic words? Maybe. Newpapers, magazines, TV, blogs - Gosh, I wonder how each of this medium has made way for a new word to enter and dwell in my system.

Sometimes I wonder if I was cut into two, how many words would tumble out and wriggle free from the thoughts and memories. The idea thrills me. But the thrill soon disappears when I think of the million words that haven't met me. No matter how much I try, my vocabulary will still be wanting. I try hard to recollect the time when I liked to pronounce words which sounded lovely to hear - sen-su-ous, dil-ly-da-lly, bour-geois, . . . I can go on with words as these. I remember the times when writers always added an extra dash of beautiful words in their works of art. I had to curb myself from running to the dictionary to find the meaning of a word that was lost to me. I never did go to the dictionary. I tried to decipher the meaning by myself by reading and reading the lines. Most of the times, the meaning unfurled without any fuss but then how will I remember that beautiful word in the future. Will I be able to use the same when I write or talk? Then in a casual conversation, the word gingerly drops itself in an appropriate conversation. I am aware of what I has just uttered. I ask myself: "Really?" I smile at the knowledge that the word had somehow taken to me and has decided to grace my language with its presence. What more? The word makes its presence felt and in some cases, for the word to be used the situation is created. It's not long before the word has built a permanent residence in me. Then the romance fades. It becomes another word in my vocabulary.

Like the smell of blood alerts the senses of a Bengal tiger, a new word lurks somewhere there, waiting for me to attack and relish it. I read a blog - the blogger has used a fantastic word. Like the previous times, the word is new, fresh and sounds good to pronounce as well. I flirt, cajole, and before long the word is nestled in the safe havens of the mindscape.

But then, as Piya remarks, words can be lost as well. Some words don't get flushed off the system that easily and those are the ones that has appeared in various parts of the chronological self - memories, nostalgia, letters, conversations, speeches and lectures. But there are the other words - which just disappear. What is that word for that wee opening? Crevice? Oriface or Orifice? Strange how words are remembered and forgotten like incidents that are vague - ones whose smells are remembered but people forgotten.

Do words have an independent existence apart myself. Of course, not. Words cannot be on their own except for a receptacle like me or you or a book or a blog. Words are parasites that mingle freely with our existence. They are parasites in a nice way, maybe not always. There are times when we can wriggle ourselves free of those words by choosing silence, once in a while.

But they say, even silence is a language. Now, I don't remember when along with words, I also learnt to embrace silence. Perhaps another post maybe.

Do you remember how words came to inhabit you?

Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet