When we set out for Sunderban from Kolkata--about four hours' journey-we, luckily, had no delusions about spotting any Bengal tiger there; otherwise, we too would have been bitterly disappointed like the two friendly Italians with us, who carried an arms-length zoom-lens to capture the Bengal tigers that were expected to saunter into view in the Sunderban.
Our very low expectations helped us enjoy, without any distraction, the unique sights of Sunderban and observe with interest the lives of those who live in that watery area.
Going by car to Godkhali port, we were ferried across the River Matla by a motor-launch to reach Gosaba island, the last inhabited island before the Sunderban's protected area.
At the Godkhali ferry
Riding a cycle-cart, we traversed the Gosaba island, passing many pretty villages on the way, to reach Pakhiraly, a village by the edge of the great Sunderban delta-region and close to the River Gomti, and checked into a 'resort' of some sorts .
Picturesque villages that flank the road in the Gosaba island on the way to Sunderban. Practically every house seems to have a pond. Apparently, life in Bengal revolves around water in its many forms -be it a humble pond or the River Ganga itself.
Soon we set out on an outing in a boat on the Gomti river just as the day was coming to an end.
From the bustle and cacophony of Kolkata, we now suddenly found ourselves in a quiet watery land of great expanse and beauty.
We watched as the sun went down and a wondrous peace settled on the land. We felt as if we were all alone at the threshold of an ethereal other world.
Sunset at Sunderban
The birds looked as if they were in deep contemplation while the sun went down and a profound tranquillity set in.
Next day we spent most of our time on a boat, leisurely observing the beautiful and unique landscape in its different moods--from its hushed dawn to the blazing noon and its final dissolution into a tranquil dusk.
As regards the sighting of any of the famed Bengal tigers said to be roaming the jungles of Sunderban --less said the better. In case we did have any lingering hope of seeing a tiger, it was effectively dispelled as soon as we had boarded our boat on the previous day...it made such an infernal racket that all the tigers in proper mind would have bolted from the entire region. It was like carrying a loud warning for the tigers to vacate the area hours before our arrival.
When our Italian fellow traveller, curious to gauge the possibility of seeing a tiger, asked us, if we, from the land of tigers, had ever seen a tiger, we said enthusiastically, 'of course, many' but quickly added ...'but not in the wild'. This didn't go well with him. Well, we had no tiger-stories to tell him; but we did get to hear some eventually, nevertheless.
The boatmen told us that the only chance of seeing a tiger was when it swam across a river to move from one island to another. Just one in a hundred or so visitors gets to see a tiger, according to him. He said that many a time those who spend days seeking the tiger return disappointed while some who had come for a half-day- quick -visit get lucky and spot the majestic animal in its leisurely mood.
It is said that thickets of 'hantal' palms with fronds that resemble the tiger's orange & yellow stripes provide an excellent camouflage for the tigers to lurk and from which to attack their prey. So they are the tiger's favourite haunt.
The boatman told us how people are attacked and eaten by tigers regularly in that area.... the honey collectors particularly, since they venture deep into the forest. The tigers follow their victim very, very silently and suddenly attack them from behind, going for the back of the victim's neck. In fact, the honey-collectors wear a human mask --not covering their face but the back of their head so that when a tiger comes behind them, it would stare at a human 'face' and back off. He also said how a tiger shrinks its body to a fraction of its normal size, and then suddenly, stretches it to an enormous length as it pounces on its human prey. The men who pursue the other major occupation of that area--fishing--are also vulnerable, he said, since the tigers would sometimes jump into the fishing boat as it neared the bank to quickly grab a victim and swim away.
A beautiful stream from the interior of the jungle joins the main river. Many such delta-canals crisscross the wet land, forming the many islands of Sunderban.
Young Sundari trees line the river bank like graceful ballet dancers.
The commonest of the trees that populate the Sunderban islands, they virtually anchor the islands with their strong and extensive roots that go deep into the soil.
A tourist boat cruising one of the many rivers and canals which crisscross Sunderban
A colourful floating home on the Gomti river.
Edging for a closer look.
Wide, muddy banks are the result of sedimentation. Crocodiles are said to bask in the sun on such river banks during winter.
A leisurely look-
-view from our boat as it floats down the river languidly in the hot afternoon:
A fishing boat in the fading light of the day.
Sunderban forests of thick mangroves seemingly float on water.
Close up of a canal that emerges from the mangrove forest to join the river, crossing its muddy bank .
As the sun rose to the zenith, heat started building up and by afternoon it became unbearable, compounded by the glare of the sun and the diesel fumes from the boat's exhaust. We wished these homemade boats had some kind of exhaust chimneys to let off the obnoxious fumes above the roof, sparing their occupants. We thought winter would have been a better time to visit Sunderban --than the beginning of summer that we had chosen.
The frustration of seeing no sign of a tiger had made the Italians stop clicking long ago. They asked the boatman plaintively if they could expect to spot some crocs at least. They were told that the best time for that would be winter when the crocs lie on the river bank to bask in the sun. Thereafter, the remarkable landscape all around failed to enthuse the Italians and they lapsed into drinking bear and lazing around. This mood slowly spread to us. Soon all of us were tired of the heat, the diesel fumes and the blinding glare, and wished we could be back in Kolkata to the comfort of our hotel room. The Italians asked us anxiously if we wanted to spend more time cruising the river as had been planned. Sensing the mood, we said we were ready to quit.
With that unanimous decision, our boat headed towards Godkhali where we were to be picked up by a car. As our slow boat cruised the evening river, we saw people heading home in crowded motor-boats after the day's work.
For people who live in Sunderban, boat is like a lifeline to the outside world
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