Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar's Blog

E3PO Talks love – a novella – 2020+/2090+

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A short Synopsis

Crogy, Neel’s housekeeping Cyborg, is programmed to efficiently handle human emotions, well only the straight forward ones; so when Neel is struck by cupid’s arrow, Crogy tries to find a rationale and fails. He is the author of this narrative which spans years and generations from one pandemic to another and tells the story of heart aches in times of global crisis and how it created predicament in the personal lives of his master Neel and his grandfather Mohit. Crogy switches between the past and present chapter by chapter bringing in hordes of characters that influence the lives of his protagonists in a small or big way, he also gives a sneak peek of his times – the futuristic world that 2090 could be. The gripping novella ends on a sweet note having taken the reader through two vivid and eventful journeys, full of twists and turns.

This is the first in the series of books to come, in a unique genre that combines fiction and education such that the knowledge stays in the heart of the child.

Dingy Tales – Deutschland by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

Dingy Tales Deutschland [Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar]

Some animals have been genetically modified in the far future to take over earth as Humans left for new frontiers. Dingy and Lia, the protagonists, a croc and a langur respectively explore Germany (Deutschland). Their excitement and humour keeps the narrative vivid and enjoyable.

The bell rings and I wake up startled, slowly I squint my drowsy eyes trying to make sense of where I am; through the window in front of me opposite my bed I see a streak of light fighting with the dark drizzling sky unsuccessfully.

‘Can’t she come a little later?’ is my first thought. ‘What if I don’t open!’ is my second thought.

I drag myself out from under the comforter, trust me it takes a lot of will power to do that. I open the door with a half asleep, half annoyed disposition and there she is standing – slightly drenched shivering in a flimsy jacket.

She enters without a word as if it is her right to do so – ‘Doesn’t even have the decency to wish’ is my third thought. I follow her into the kitchen that has a sink full of dirty vessels and I am reminded there are some more in the utility, yesterday night I got creative and in the process discoloured a few of them. ‘Is she going to wince?’ is my fourth thought. Her face didn’t give away any emotion she might be experiencing.

I started preparing tea. ‘Should I ask her if she wants a cuppa?’ is my fifth thought. I let it pass. We each do our work in silence, it is still dark outside, I load my tray with buns and biscuits and a steaming hot cup of ginger tea and settle on the bed, covering half of myself with the comforter.

Going through the nebulous events of the world I forget about her petty existence until she appears with a broom. As she passes by I can smell her stench, ‘Can’t she change or at least apply some perfume’ is my sixth thought.

I yank myself off from the blissful bed experience and start getting ready for the day ahead as she is almost done with the mopping. Suddenly am reminded of the day – I ask her how she wants the payment and she says cash, now that’s annoying – ‘Why can’t she have a digital transaction system?’ is my seventh thought.

I decide to confront, she just stands there for a while and then starts in that voice that’s so typical of them – “my husband is away and I am out of cash, I need ration – the man who helps with digital payments is not responding yada yada…” I reach out for my bags that hold cash and extract every penny to make up for the handsome amount (feel like a fortune to pay to a domestic help, but peanuts if one is out to entertain oneself).

Having got back the flat to myself I rejoice, as she leaves for the day – ‘How I wish I can see them replaced by robots in my lifetime!’ is my eighth thought.

I finish my workout and feel the floor as am rolling the mat, refreshing.

Hungry belly takes me to the kitchen that shows no signs of the mess I made the night before, the sink is all ready to be filled again and a happy me arranges a hearty breakfast and settles on the dining table. Outside the light has finally triumphed over darkness and as I sat munching looking around the freshly cleaned space that I call home, not the ninth thought but a train of thoughtsesses (the word ‘thoughts’ doesn’t do justice to what happened) hits me.

‘Hardly a girl of 25 odd years, mother of two, in a heartless relationship with a man to whom she is the second wife, cleaning dirty vessels and floors in one house then another till day end with may be a break for a hastily prepared lunch – that’s her – that’s them – with a slight variation of circumstances.

I have had many domestic helpers in the course of my existence, from different provinces, varied age groups and gender, and have often wondered – how do they make themselves do this mindless job all their lives, rain or sun, winter or spring – each day, every day – well almost!      

True they are in a habit of making me dump my plans more often than would be convenient, to do some unheard of ritual or be part of a festival or ceremony which mostly involves fasting and spending their hard earned money and eventually falling sick due to the stress – it is never a vacation for them.

Frustrated by their lifestyle – choosing mobile over nutrition or even medicines, lack of sense of responsibility – though there have been exceptions but very rarely, improper behaviour – again there have been rare exceptions, unrealistic demands – no exceptions there, it is my heart’s desire to see them replaced by robots.

A close friend commented on my wish – “What will they do then?”

Definitely a food for thought, what will this huge populace who survive and thrive catering to domestic services do if robots take over their jobs? But then who knows how many jobs from how many industries will be taken over and how many of us will be jobless!’

I overstayed at the dining table long past the breakfast and a look at the clock puts me into top gear. I rush through cleaning up the table meanwhile booting up the computer, switch to decent clothing to face the world even if virtual and finally fetch the steaming cuppa of coffee from the microoven to get set go.

I pause momentarily looking at the kitchen and the home space as I walk over to my work desk. ’May be I’ll ask her if she wants a cuppa tomorrow morning’ is my tenth and final thought for the day – for her.

by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar  

Story by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

Soumil and Mohona just sat there hand in hand contended. There was nothing to rejoice only contentment – one that comes from being unburdened. A chapter came to a close.

This chapter started nine years back when little Raspy was little indeed.

“Raspy don’t, you’ll get hurt!” Ruchi came out of the kitchen to witness the brave feat, Raspy was getting ready to jump from the handle of the sofa and even before she could finish the sentence he jumped – and got hurt – blood started oozing out from his teeth and lips.

Soumil entered through the main door right in time to witness the ghastly scene. “What the hell!” he screamed. Ruchi gave him a troubled look and went about doing the first aid “We need to take him to the hospital Soumil” she finally spoke, “He’ll possibly need stitches.”

It was a long night ahead. A small surgery was required on the nose and lips. Exhausted mentally and physically the hapless parents finally sat down beside a sleeping Raspy – the apple of their eye.

“We should put carpet all over the floor” Soumil blurted out looking far into the corridor. “We should buy some floor” Mohana quipped.

The conversation went on in parts for days, down dark and bright alleys, through an eminent separation which by the way is only a by-product of Mohana’s sentimental turmoil and romantic notion and has no practical bearing – it keeps coming up every now and then and is not dependent on any particular event or topic.

The matter of possessing an abode had many considerable facets, the major being – the notion of moving back to their native, the non-availability of such flats within their means which they would love to call home.

And then one day in her characteristic style Mohana declared, “I have shortlisted a few properties, we cannot buy one to live in but we can procure one for the sake of investment.” Soumil knew she would do it, always the decision maker – it was hard to persuade her to do otherwise but in this case as in most he felt she made a good point.

“Now this is a place we could want to live in, let us go for a three bed room instead of a two Mohana” Soumil really liked the prospect of the neighbourhood that the brochure promised on the now vacant 22 acres of land. “But the price is beyond our budget Soumil, how will we afford this?” said a sceptical Mohana, as she had been the one to handle the finances ever since they got married.

“Well we don’t have to pay all the money in one go” Soumil tried to justify. “Yes Ma’am, the bank will release the money as and when the builder raises a demand and since the project completion is three years hence, it will be a slow and steady rise in the monthly equated instalments (EMI) that you need to pay to the bank.” The customer care guy chipped in.

The proposed apartment project that was to have 19 towers of 19 floors each was adjacent to the builder’s villa project whose second phase was nearing completion. People had started moving in to the first phase.

“I’ll show you the interior of a villa to let you understand the quality of the material that will be used in the apartment flats as well, we will then take a round around this project so that you get an idea about the amenities that will be provided for our apartment project as well.” The eloquent customer care guy said, he had an air of superiority.

Having lived in individual houses and stand alone apartments that were mostly situated in dense neighbourhoods with shops and garbage and noisy places of worship and the dwellings of very poor people thrown in here and there as if in a jamboree, this planned layout with manicured lawns and gardens, cobbled pathways branching out from them to meet the tarred roads lined with trees, the little water bodies placed artistically with sparkling water and decorative plants, the various courts for various sports, pet park, amphitheatre, jogger’s track and what not – it was the place for Soumil and Mohana – and the executive sensed their excitement.

He bargained for a price higher than required and the couple happily agreed.

Once the ball got rolling, the mivan technology that the builder had been boasting about was shaping the towers fantastically and milestones were being achieved as projected – periodic updates about the project started flowing in as promised. The anticipation of the Promised Land (flat) brought exhilaration to their lives.

“I won’t go to the swimming pool.”Soumil said casually over breakfast one morning. “Why? Swimming is a good exercise.” Mohana’s tone was angry. “No no I am not comfortable. All these club house activities – the gym, indoor sports and all of them are not for me. But it would be good to walk along the tracks, or cycle peacefully.” Soumil was in a contemplative mood.

“Raspy will get a beautiful life. A good community to bloom in and even if we don’t he may utilize some of the amenities like basketball court, of course the pool and may be some more.” Mohana smiled in delight. “Also young affairs are on the cards” Soumil winked.

The EMI’s had grown and got fixated as the project was nearing completion and so had Soumil’s salary – thus it didn’t pinch much though it had been a bit of a stretch, another 6 months or so and the uber living that the couple had dreamt of was going to be a reality. But with that looming ahead the logistics of the transition started bothering Mohana.

“The interiors are going to take at least 2 to 3 months, but that will be midsession for Raspy.” A concerned Mohana opened up the forum for discussion one Sunday morning. “Hmmm, also the work will need close monitoring, remember Sony aunty? She used to travel everyday to watch over the interior guys.” Soumil added. “Even then they did one or the other mistake, why even dad was complaining the other day, the new bathroom in our village house is not uniformly laid it seems, for lack of monitoring.” Mohana continued.

The discussion yielded the need for a shift to the locality even before the handover, which meant a frantic search for a house and a school before the beginning of the next session.

“Monu bhaiya this is only a temporary residence, hardly 6 months may be even less so we are not using very good material – eventually we will put this up for rent or may be sell it off.” Mohana was instructing the interior guy on how and where to put up the wardrobes and kitchen cabinets so as to make maximum utilization of the available space – it was no mean job to fit in her 3 bed room household into this 2 bedroom flat that they had bought as a stop gap arrangement.

This apartment was very near to the site of the dream home and also being a distress sale a wonderful bargain.

“It would be easy for you to commute to the site everyday to check on the interior work, may be you could drop Raspy to school and go on and pick him up while coming back. Do pack your laptop and don’t forget the lunch. I’ll do the weekends.” Soumil was upbeat he liked this stop gap arrangement, where he was not bound by time to change addresses. It was rather a hassle to time the changes exactly as required owing to the work pressure in his office. This being his own place he could take time to do the needful.

The new standalone apartment with 80 flats, one of them on the top floor being Mohana’s was a small delight in itself. Most of her neighbours were from small towns and eager to mingle missing their familiar surroundings and family. Inside the flat space was a bit of a constraint but with a huge terrace and a long parking lot at the ground floor there was ample to take a walk, to cycle and also celebrate various, hitherto unknown to Mohana, festivities that brought abundant cheer.

The first phase that consisted of 11 towers was almost done – tower 10 had till 12 stories and tower 11 had till 7 stories completed out of the 19 for each. “But the balcony is like a blindfolded horse.” That was Mohona’s first impression looking at their flat on the 8th floor. “Undoubtedly – was it like this in the brochure?” Soumil was also taken aback. Both were displeased but not much could be done at this point.

One fine day after the new-year celebrations were well passed, came a regret mail. The project had run into some technical issues and would get a bit delayed. The ‘bit’ turned into months and months turned into a year and after lot of deliberation the fact surfaced that the builder had run out of money. The dual challenge posed by RERA that barred them from using funds across projects and demonitization, paired with some bad investments left them dry. Being a huge project there were around a 1000 miserable customers who came forward to demand explanation, money and assurance for the future.

“There is an invitation for a meeting with the customers.” Mohana had got a mail. “It is on a Saturday at the building site; maybe we should go and hear them out.”

The meetings vastly comprising of arguments and counter arguments continued. Suddenly, after a couple of months the builder started advertising aggressively and hope returned.

“Mridul was saying that people are being given offer to shift from phase 2 to phase 1 as it is almost completed. Phase 2 as we saw is only dug up and a bit of the foundation raised.” Mohona was updating Soumil. “He also said that we can also change our flat, existing customers will be given a lot of discount it seems.”

“What options do we have? I really don’t like the balcony.” Soumil asked. “I was looking at the duplex penthouses. We can make the upgrade if we pay up a little more.” Mohona had already done her research.

To make the upgrade another loan was added to the existing loans of the dream home and the 2 bed room flat where they were currently residing. Plans were drawn up to decorate and populate the interiors of the two storied penthouse. Mohona loved the concept of a staircase going up from the hall way to the next floor. Soumil rejoiced the 2000 sqft. They both loved spacious interiors overlooking vast expanse of uninhabited land or water. The penthouse was supposed to have a lake facing front – a ridiculously lucrative prospect.

By 2019, all was quite on all fronts. L n T the construction company had pulled out its cranes, there were no labours at the site and even the skeleton staff at the marketing office onsite was gone. Government had taken over the project on an interim basis, the director of the building company had been suspended and a resolution professional (RP) along with her team had been appointed to help; their fees was supposed to be paid by the customers. Guards were appointed by the RP office to secure the project site.       

Cases were being filled by individual customers. “Soumil the association is hiring a lawyer to make a joint petition in court. Should we join in?” Mohana asked Soumil. “We can but do they have any terms?” Soumil was thinking aloud.

A clause in the form for joining the association stated that one has to pay money as and when asked for, Mohana and Soumil were not comfortable with it. They did not file a case individually or through the association, but when the resolution professional (RP) asked for forms to be filled related to claims, Mohona did so duly. The RP filled the cases in NCLAT/NCLT etc.

Little Raspy all of 12 by then, was due for a puppy as promised long ago. Mohona believed that every child is entitled to unconditional love. In April a puppy came home, it was showered with love all over. Mohona also brought in two turtles – a third of the size of her palm, thus came an aquarium too.

“He likes to be alone.”Mohona reflected on the behaviour of the puppy they had named as Dogmatix. “That is why I wanted to get two together, so they are familiar with each other from the very beginning, hard luck that cheat took away all the money and gave only one.”

As time went by Dogmatix grew in size – a well nourished puppy of 5 months, looking like an oversized adult Shih tzu (the puppy breed) – but so grew his temper, he responded to Raspy’s cuddles with snaps and bites if persistent. The little boy was disheartened.

In October came Zhauwu, the naughtiest little devil that ever could be. “Mamma he loves to be cuddled and keeps wagging his little tail and drowns me with saliva. Now that is what I call a pet, my brother.” An overwhelmed Raspy gave his verdict.

“Soumil, we have a huge family now that can only fit in a 2000sq ft.” Mohona was going to propose something and Soumil knew it. He laughed and said, “Which by grace is in the air. At least the 3 bed room flat with its ridiculous balcony was tangible our duplex penthouse is still on paper.” “True but we can’t go on living in this – it has been three years – we came here for a maximum of 6 months!” Mohona was visibly annoyed.

“Well then say what you have to say, am sure you have a proposal.” Soumil tried to calm her down. “We will shift to a suitable place on rent and put this up on rent.”Mohona said in a determined tone. “So be it. Do you have anything in mind?” Soumil asked softly. Mohona nodded her head in negation. “My colleague keeps praising his complex, it is about 5 kms, he has invited us many times; we could visit him and see if anything suits us there.” Soumil added as he playfully pulled her ponytail to cheer her up.

A visit was soon arranged; Soumil and Mohona loved the vibe. The complex was situated on a sprawling 40 acres of land. Wide roads lined with trees and the 26 towers interlaced with gardens were a sheer delight. It had a basketball court and a cricket pitch and plenty of open space. A huge clubhouse housed many indoor games and a swimming pool. The community was not posh but very neat and organised. They came back with a delightful experience. By November an opportunity to shift into this community presented itself and the couple grabbed it.

“Wowwwww, this is so big” Raspy reacted as he entered the flat they had rented in the new community. It was a sprawling 2100 sq ft, 4 bedroom flat. “Something similar could have been ours and we are paying for it and yet.” Mohona sighed. “Oh come on, let us forget about it. You are the one who keeps telling us to enjoy now and not cry over split milk.” Soumil tried to cheer her. “But I feel guilty; I pushed us into this mess.” Mohona was feeling really low. “Not at all, I was very much a party to it. We decided to go for it together.” Soumil was earnest.

The couple settled well in their rented flat and the new community – enjoying the walks sometimes with Dogmatix and Zhauwu sometimes just the two of them, they took to cycling at times and little Raspy was delighted with the basketball court and the swimming pool, both of which he frequented.

It was a lifestyle Soumil and Mohona had dreamt of for themselves and Raspy.

The two bedroom flat was put up on rent and fetched a good fraction of the rent they had to shell out for their own rented flat. As for the ‘penthouse’ court cases were going on and results were awaited. “The 22nd COC meeting is to be held coming Saturday” Mohona declared at breakfast one day and the duo laughed out loud – it was both pensive and hilarious as the same time.

Mohona and Soumil had accepted the stalemate situation, they would often humour each other by cracking jokes about the ‘penthouse’ but Mohona desperately wanted to get rid of at least the EMIs which were considerably huge – And with time it happened.

Soumil earned and Mohona managed, they both did well and finally one fine October day in 2022, 9 years after the ‘searching for a suitable home to buy’ episode had begun, they walked up to the bank, having parked the car at a nearby shopping arcade, otherwise it would be 25 kms of walking, a bit too dramatic even for the end of such an episode.

Cheque after cheque they gave as their weird issuing bank with a weird rule didn’t let them pay the entire amount through a single cheque.

“So it is done.” Said Soumil holding Mohona’s hand as they sat at a coffee shop. “Yes it is, after paying a fortune we are done.” Mohona said almost choking on her tears. She sniffled. “Now do I have to remind you what my dear wife says to give me courage and lift my spirits?” Soumil said tenderly. “But we still don’t have a proper place to stay after all these years and having spent so much.” Mohona muffled out through tears. “Yes, but we have each other, we are healthy and we still have the capability to have a good life – when money is lost nothing is lost – says who? And why do you tell me all that if you don’t believe in it?” Soumil turned from being sympathetic to temperamental. Mohona smiled through the reminiscent of her tears and squeezed his hand, “So that when I am down you can reiterate them for me, you are my storage space.”

Having gained experience if not anything else, Soumil and Mohona just sat there hand in hand contended. All the loans were paid off. A chapter came to a close – perhaps only to begin a new one.

The post The search for a suitable home appeared first on MoAnRa.

Story by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

Tibu the little fawn was grazing alongside his mother. The whole herd had spread out and were happy munching on the juicy grass. Tibu was the only fawn in this herd and everybody loved him. He ran to an uncle a little further than his mom then to an aunty then another, all giving him a little nod or a nudge playfully. Soon he had reached the deer uncle who was at the edge of the herd but Tibu didn’t notice that. Tibu saw a lovely bird and ran after it. He followed for it for a long time until he could run no more then turned to see his herd.

But there was no one. There were tall trees around him and a path lined with bushes but no open grassland. Tibu was very scared. He turned back and started walking on the path and soon came to a crossroad where he could see three more paths.

Tibu was wondering what to do when he saw a little thing coming towards him. He had never seen anybody smaller than himself and was very curious. He too went towards the little thing. Soon they met and started playing with each other. The little one became very tired and sat down with all four legs spread out.

“What is your name?” asked the fawn. “My name is Poi. I am a tiger. What is your name? What are you?” asked the little one. “I am Tibu and I am a deer,” answered Tibu. They were sitting under a large tree and the day light was fading.

An owl hooted from a hole in a branch of that large tree and asked, “What are you little fellows doing in the middle of the jungle without your parents?” The two were too scared to answer. The owl came down to them and asked, “Are you lost little ones?” Tibu and Poi nodded with a sad face. “Oh! Little darlings don’t worry; we’ll find your mothers. But it is dangerous for you to be out at night. You two follow me. I’ll put you somewhere safe for the night and tomorrow morning I’ll arrange for someone to find your mothers as I can’t go out in the daytime.”

The fawn and the cub followed the owl. She took them into a nearby cave to keep them safe for the night. The kids played for a while then slept off as they were very tired. With the first light came the crow and the owl told him all about the kids. The crow immediately agreed to help the kids.

The Hungry Babies Are Fed

The owl called the kids but they were fast asleep. The crow said, “Let me create my magic.” “Crawwwwww!!! Crawwwwww!!!” called the crow on top of his voice. The kids woke up startled. “Works every time and with all,” said the crow with a wide grin, “Except of course that little brat called Raspy who lives in the village.”

“Okay kiddos your crow uncle will fly and you’ll follow on the path below. He will warn you if there is any danger and you should immediately hide. Right?” said the owl.

“But am hunggy!” cried the tiger cub. “Me too!” said the fawn. Now that was a real problem. How would they get milk for the cub, it was too young to eat anything. The fawn however could feed on his own and plenty of grass was available around. The crow said, “Come babies follow me, lets get you something to eat.” So they bid farewell to owl aunty and started following crow uncle.

The crow led them to the nearby village at the edge of the forest. It was quite early in the morning but village life starts early so people were going about their business. The crow asked the kids to hide behind a big tree and wait for him. He went straight to Raspy’s house. He was sleeping. The crow flew in through the window and held his nose with his beak. This had worked before and it did this time too. Raspy was unable to breath and jumped up and sat wide awake. “Do you realise that if you had been a human I would have died?” said a very angry Raspy. “But am not human and this is the only way I know to wake you up,” said the crow in a matter of fact way. The two had been friends for some time, since Raspy loved the forest and the crow helped him navigate through the confusing paths, initially in lieu of food crumbs and thereafter just because they had become friends.

“Listen man I need milk for a little tiger cub,” said the crow. “What? Cawy you snatched a tiger cub from his mother?” screamed Raspy. “Don’t be silly boy, don’t I love my life?” “The tiger cub is lost and hungry. He is so small that he can drink only milk. After he is fed we’ll go on a search to find his mother,” explained the crow.

Raspy ran to the kitchen got a bowl of milk and slipped out of his house. He followed the crow till the tree and was awestruck to see the two kids. They were so cute and cuddly. He put the milk in front of the cub but the baby hesitated. The fawn on the other hand came hopping towards Raspy. Raspy pulled out some grass nearby and fed him. Seeing Tibu and Raspy petting each other Poi came to them too.

The crow was concerned since the cub was not able to drink the milk. He was so small that he didn’t know how to lap up with his tongue. He only knew how to suck. “Raspy the baby is not able to drink, what to do boy?” he said, very worried. Raspy thought for a while then asked them to wait there.

A little while later he came back with a feeding bottle, poured the milk into it and held the suckling end into the cub’s mouth. This time Poi happily sucked the milk.

The Expedition Begins

The trio set out to find the mothers. Raspy went home to get ready for school. The crow promised to visit him as soon as the kids found their mothers. The crow flew slowly and steadily, the children followed on the path below. The crow swooped down on something and there was a squeaking sound.

It was a rat. The crow wanted to use the rat network, as rats were a plenty and had access to all parts of the forest. They would definitely be able to tell where the tigress or the herd was located. Presently the rat was shivering as she thought the crow would gulp her down.

“Could you stop shivering my lady so that I can talk to you like a gentle man without holding on to your hind-side?” said the crow in a deep voice. The kids were looking at the rat with wide eyes. They had never seen such a tiny thing. They wanted to play with it thinking it was another baby. “You catch us little one, and we run” said Poi.

The rat laughed at this and seeing that she was relaxed the crow said, “These little babies are lost. We need to find the tigress mamma and the herd that the fawn belongs to.” He gave a pause to see her reaction. She was listening intently, so he continued, “I think you can help. The rat network is spread all across the forest. Will you kindly find out the location of their mothers please?”

“Oh sure thing!” she said and scuttled away. Poi and Tibu were happily playing all this while with the crow keeping a watchful eye or eyes rather. He was joined by a few more of his clan who showed surprise on his venture. One said,  “Why do you get into all this bro? Always helping others; why don’t you just marry a nice girl and have a few lovely chicks of your own. After all many crow girls are your fan due to your heroic actions.”

“Well I do what I feel like doing. This gives me happiness. End of story,” said the crow politely.

Soon the rat came back with a mischief (group of rats) following her. She said, “A tigress has been seen looking for her child at the north western end of the forest and a herd has been seen looking for a fawn on the eastern shore of the river. Both are about the same distance away from here but they are in opposite direction.”

The mischief was looking at the fawn and the cub in disbelief, the two were huddled together, scared to see so many rats. One of the ancient looking rats could not hold his tongue any longer and started, “In my long long years of living on this earth, in this forest, since my birth and in all the stories that have been passed from generations, all the things that I have seen and all experiences I have lived through” “Could you please cut it short and come to the point great grandpa,” said a young fellow who had lost his patience.

“Ahem Ahem I mean I have never seen a tiger cub and a fawn huddled together,” said a rather embarrassed great grandpa and a little annoyed too, “This is why we do not like these youngsters, a hasty generation, takes the fun out of a feeling, incapable of savouring a sight.” “As if we like you and your beating around the bushes,” said the youngster rolling his eyes.

The crow intervened the ongoing heated exchange of words and glances. He said, “My dear mischief can we please focus on the problem. Since the two mothers are in the opposite direction we should make teams and lead the two separately.” He formed two teams and suggested the fawn to go with one of them and the cub with the other, while he would keep a bird’s eye view on both of them from time to time.

“No no no no, I go with friend,” screamed Poi. “Yes, with Poi I go,” said Tibu.

Now that was quite a problem, as they discussed. If Poi goes to the herd there was a danger of death from stampede and if Tibu went near the tigress then he might get eaten. Yet it was decided that going to the tigress first would be safer as she is a single person and might be reasoned with, Tibu being Poi’s friend.

So the whole party set out towards tiger mamma’s direction.

Meeting The Matriarch

A little way down the path, a bull elephant was found standing. The crow was terrified as he knew what raging bull elephants can do. The rats were also terrified. The rats told the kids to hide behind the bushes and move very slowly. But the kids were so mesmerised by the giant size of an elephant. “Look at the teeth, it is shoooooooo big. I want to play with that thing in front of his face,” screamed Poi as he ran towards it. The fawn followed Poi.

The bull noticed them and started to move with every intention of stamping his feet on them. Just then a large elephant came in front of him from the side and blocked his way. It was the matriarch. A matriarch is a female elephant who have had many children and was the leader of their pack. This pack consisted of 6 females and a calf. All of them joined the matriarch slowly and stood by her side. The bull slowly moved away. He had to. The matriarch was his mother. He and other male children are driven out of the group once they become adult. The adult males become very angry at times and then attack the young and the week females.

Once the Bull was out of sight, the crow landed on the matriarch and told her the whole incident. The matriarch agreed to take the kids to the tigress as she felt her presence might stop Tibu from being eaten up.

The matriarch picked up the two kiddos with a sweep of her trunk and placed them on her back; which was way wide for them to sit comfortably.

Once again the party started to march forward.

Poi Finds Mamma

The pace quickened as the kids were now being carried by the matriarch. One her strides were longer and second every now and then Tibu and Poi were unable to stop having got distracted.

Before long they reached a thicket where the matriarch stopped sensing something; and out came the tigress with a sudden jump and roared. But as soon as she saw Poi she was all too eager to lick her baby.

The matriarch put Poi down slowly. It was a scene to behold as the mother and child embraced each other. The tigress has been looking for the baby frantically but in all the wrong places. Her happiness knew no bounds.

When the initial excitement subdued the party was ready to leave for the delivery of the other baby to its mother. But Poi started crying profusely. The matriarch put Tibu down and the two played for a while. The matriarch told the tigress about how the children had found each other when they were lost and thus a deep bond has formed between them. The crow added his bits and mentioned the wise owl who had kept them safe for the night.

Poi’s mom somehow made him understand that Tibu’s mom would be as worried and sad as she had been so he must let him go. She promised to take him to Tibu as often as possible to play.

The Sudden Storm And A Surprise

As the party of the matriarch with Tibu sitting on her back, the 6 other female elephants, the calf, the crow and the mischief reached the spot from where they had decided to first go in search of Poi’s mother, the tigress; a sudden storm engulfed them.

The huge trees were shaking like twigs; dust was flying at random and with great speed making the vision blurred. The wind was howling like demons as they went rumbling past. The party came to a stand-still.

The matriarch had brought Tibu down and all of them huddled together in the fear of being flown away. The elephant calf was himself scared but was giving shelter to the tiny little creature he understood, had been lost and was desperately in need of company.

Tibu was shaking with fear, he had never seen such a dreadful time in his tiny lifespan, he tried to think of all good things he could remember; his mother always said, try to remember happy things when you are scared. Never before had the need arrived; but this storm was really too scary. He felt good to be in company of so many kind hearted uncles, aunties and friends who were standing by his side and he was not alone.

After what seemed like a very long time the storm stopped; and right in front of them was the herd. The herd had rushed into the jungle from the river side to take shelter from the storm; it was devastating in the open.

For a few moments everyone froze; and then there was an unbelievable scene of jubilation which all those present cherished for years to come.

Crow Meets Raspy By The Lake

With a contended heart the crow flew back to the owl’s den. The owl knew it has been done. He said, “So old friend! Another mission accomplished?” “Yes dear, but in all my missions till date I would say this was the most beautiful one. I have never seen such dedication and passion come over so many beasts together to materialise a union,” said a visibly happy crow. Raspy was waiting by the lake eagerly for the crow. All day he could not concentrate on anything but thinking about the two kiddos. Just as the crow swooped down and sat on the rock beside, Raspy started, “Tell me Cawy, what happened? Did you get the mother? Were they together? Oh silly me, how can a tiger and deer be together unless the later is being eaten or is already in the belly of the former. But tell me how it all happened? Did you at all complete your mission or just gave up? It was difficult anyway. Did you get caught in that storm? It was going to be catastrophic had it not passed. My grandma said some very good deed must have been done to negate the wrath of the demons, but all that later, will you tell me the story or not?” Raspy having said all that in a breath was exhausted and the crow rolled his eyes. “I will now, as you have stopped using your mouth, give it some rest and let the ears work,” said the crow with a smirk.

The post Tibu meets Poi appeared first on MoAnRa.

Story by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

“When are you back dear?” Hir asks her husband who hurries into his car.

“Usual, but Joe should be here around 7” Ash is upbeat. So is Hir, Joe a is a delightful company, he is having dinner and also staying over for the weekend.

Hir waves goodbye and goes inside their lovely little duplex – she’ll practice, music keeps her busy all day – made longer by the long absence of her husband. 

Off-late Ash has been busier than usual, he says he is giving the last push before he retires and then he’ll spend all his time with Hir – but she has her doubts.

‘Did I do everything right?’ Ash is anxious as he goes over the sequence in his mind, ‘Just about now Hir will go into the closet and knock the jar for sure…’ a loud honk jerks him out of his thoughts.

“Manju…” Hir screams for her maid having crashed the big glass jar creating a mess of broken glass on the floor. Now the heavy stone statue, that is kept in a corner of the closet, will have to be put out in order to have the place cleaned properly.

‘She doesn’t have a strong footing anyway; have asked Raju to water the plants specially well, and given his callousness he is sure to spill water on the steps leading to the garden, also asked Gopi to come for the keys around 6 – it should be dark by then…’ Ash settles in his office chair, hopeful.

“Manjuuu…” Hir screams as she slips almost banging her head on the statue that now stands in their garden beside the steps that lead to it, Gopi asked for the car keys to clean the interior, ‘why this late’ she wondered.

Hir scurries back inside with the help of Manju – knees scathed, she is happy it isn’t her head; in which case she would have been dead but she cannot part with him – she rejoices at the thought of their eternal togetherness.

Hir gets to her feet to give the final touches after first-aid, deciding against messaging Ash, ‘He’ll get anxious’ she thinks.

‘Why isn’t the call coming?’ Ash gets anxious looking at his watch, ‘Manju should have called…’

Manju and Raju take leave for the day. Hir wanders through the house, nurtured with love, all for him. She misses Ash, recently she has a feeling of dissociation with him, he says its her premenopausal hormones at play – but she has her doubts.

‘Vomicare?’ Hir picks up a strip with 10 tablets, there are 4 more in Ash’s wardrobe – at times she would come and re-settle it, but it had been months now – somehow he managed to keep her away. She googles. ‘sleeping pills?’ a confused Hir casts her eyes around.

‘If that didn’t do it, then the pills may be…’ Ash shifts in his chair uncomfortably.

A dumbfounded Hir is sitting on the couch, a sticky note in hand, it reads – ‘statue, pills, push, lock’. She hears the bell almost in a trance, Joe has arrived.

“What’s wrong Hir?” Joe finds a pale Hir as though she has lost everything. She hands him the note, tells him the events of the day and about her premonitions. The duo sits astounded. Hir gets up after a while and takes the stairs, ‘she needs to lie down,’ Joe thinks.

“Heyyy Joe! Where is Hir? Left you to attend the door…” Ash tries to be chatty as he enters the house. Joe gives him a cold stare and mumbles, “Why?”

“What – Why?” Ash is taken aback – ‘did it happen then?’ Ash thinks, his heart beat quickening.

Joe hands him the note.

Ash tumbles down on the couch. “Where is Hir?” he asks feebly.

Hir slowly comes down the stairs, she is still in physical pain from the fall but her face looks serene.

“Hir!” Ash tries to get up but fails to gather any strength in his legs.

Hir smiles and goes into the kitchen. She emerges with her famous stone apple sherbet, she hands each men a glass, takes hers and sits.

Joe repeats, “Why?” this time with conviction.

Ash takes a sip of the sherbet, delicious as ever, he keeps the empty glass on the centre table and clears his throat, and says looking straight at Hir “I am tired of your love, care, obsession… the clasp is so tight, so suffocating!”

There was a long silence.

“There are ways – separation…” Joe’s voice choked.

Hir gets up and goes over to Ash, sits beside him, holds his hand and squeezes it. She then opens a page in her music notebook and nudges Ash to look at it.

He reads, “We no longer wish to live. Joe our friend present at our home, at the time we committed suicide, did not know of our intentions until we breathed our last.”

“How?” Ash mumbles, Hir hands him a pen and says softly, “Sign beside my sign – just as you did at the marriage registrar.” She chuckles, “the statue didn’t work so pills…”

Ash gives her an enraged look, it softens in a while and he nods in defeat.

Joe looks on confused, as Ash signs and then falls backwards on the sofa as if dosing off.

Hir hands him the note, and smiles, “Joe there is no other way – until death do us apart, and he knew that – but I cannot part with him… even at death!” she snuggles with Ash and closes her eyes. A bewildered Joe reads the note, rushes to check their pulse – they were gone.

The post When love gets tiring appeared first on MoAnRa.

story by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

She looked weary and tired. I took a long look at her from the window of my wagonR. I do that every day and then for the next ten minutes keep brooding about the purpose of her sitting at the bus stop opposite to the entrance arch of my residential complex. I do not see her when I come back from work and thus never think of her till I see her again in the morning.

It was a winter day and I was in no mood to go to work but I had to as there was an important in-person meeting. I was trying to keep myself upbeat with a Punjabi beat on FM but my eyes went searching for the woman at the bus stop. She was not there.  I took the U-turn slowly and passed by the bus stop even slower – only to look for her. I spent the entire trip to the office thinking about her. At office I felt restless and packed after having the aforesaid meeting that mattered. It was about 3 in the afternoon when I reached the bus stop opposite to my residential complex. I parked the car at a convenient location and started making enquiries at the shops nearby.

After a good bit of toil I only got to know that she takes the bus every morning at around 8am and comes back by the same at around 8pm.

I was intrigued. Why? I couldn’t say. I tried to recall – the woman was very ordinarily dressed in a saree with a bag hanging from her shoulder. She sat at the bus stop with drooping shoulders and looked weary and tired but her eyes had a sort of glint in them that caught my fancy. Her face was not exactly attractive but it had the kind of charm that captivated my attention. She had a narrow frame and though I always saw her sitting I felt she was tall. Her hands were quite thin.

The next day I found myself all set to become a spy. I dressed inconspicuously and walked down to the bus-stand well before 8am. To my relief she came! I had really really wanted her to come cause I had taken a leave for the sole purpose of unraveling her story, little did I know that it would turn out to be an extraordinary one and I would find my ‘Hero!’

She came near me and smiled. “No office today?” She said in a mellifluous voice with such ease as if we had known each other for ever. My career as a spy got over even before I could get started, she had taken note of me too – eyeing her every morning as I drove past. “You didn’t come yesterday.” I said with childlike simplicity. The words just poured out of my mouth. “So you got worried? How blessed I am!” She caught my hand and gave a light squeeze.

The bus came and we boarded it. The hour long ride seemed to end quickly – I needed more time. To talk about me! I had not unraveled a single thing about her – cause she asked and I kept on blabbering and it felt good. We walked for some time, ten minutes may be – who cared, then got into another bus. This was definitely a very short ride – but the watch said a half hour.

By now I had only managed to get her name – Mrs Koshy. A cycle van resembling a vegetable vendor’s cart was waiting by the road side a little after the bus stand. The van driver flashed a huge set of teeth and Mrs Koshy nodded. She sat on one side and asked me to sit on the other. After about 15 or 20 mnts we reached a place that looked like a shack and a moment later a hoard of children came out of it and encircled us.

They were talking all at once and I could only catch Madam Koshy and one or two animated words as the dialect was quite different. Madam Koshy resonated with their exuberance. Then they all went inside the shack. I peeped through the window or rather a whole. Madam Koshy was teaching them geometry. After about an hour we departed from the place amidst fond goodbyes.

We perched up the cart and went to another shack and then another and then another – all three around 20 mnts apart from each other. Similar events followed. I was getting used to the pattern and my happiness quotient was on its all time high. So many children – laughing aloud in reality not the LOL onscreen. The quiet of a sleepy hamlet broken only by their cacophony was more refreshing than those breaks I had ever taken in my life.

Wrapping up madam Koshy announced that its lunch time – and man I was hungry! We had lunch at a small joint – simple rice lentils and a vegetable curry. I was skeptical about having carbs on a weekday but madam Koshy said, “Eat without guilt – it’s the guilt that gets converted into fat – and she gave me a wink.”

I ate without guilt, actually hogged – the simple food was so delicious that I could not control myself – it was as though I was storing it so that the taste remains with me forever. May be I will never get this food again. After lunch we visited 2 more shacks and finally the van-cart dropped us back at the bus – stand by 6pm. We reached the bus – stand opposite to my residential complex around 8pm and I was totally exhausted.

As we were about to part madam Koshy who by now knew all about my past and present and even my future aspiration, invited me home. “Tomorrow is Saturday; it is off for you and also for me, why don’t you come along with me, have dinner and then we girls have a sleepover.” She said very amicably. I was hesitant thinking would her home be any better than those shacks? Would I be able to manage – even a night? Then I thought – well it is just a night!

There is a lane right after the bus stand where I had parked my car the other day. We walked till the lane and I saw a huge car parked there. I am not a car enthusiast like some of my friends who would look at a curve and state what car it is – even from a distance! But it was a huuuuuuuuuuuuuge car. I recognized the Mercedes symbol when we go a little closer. It was dark in the alley.

Madam Koshy nudged me to the car as I stood there frozen. I did not speak in the car neither did she; maybe she was giving me time to get over my shock. My logical brain deduced this must be an offering from a generous person in lieu of the charitable work that she does, just as me, the person might have come to know about it and was trying to help by dropping her home.

My jaws dropped when the car entered the mansion. We got down at the portico and madam Koshy started entering through the huge main door whereas I expected us to go towards the back where I presumed the servant’s quarter would be. I stood there frozen again. She pulled me and we went inside. I had never seen a mansion like that from inside, it was no less than a palace. A couple of well dressed girls were standing to be instructed. Madam Koshy called one of them and asked her to show me one of the guest rooms. I followed her wide eyed taking in the entire splendor.

Never had I thought even in my wildest of dreams when I decided to follow the lady that she was so full of surprises. Her stature in life, her work – I was overblown by the magnitude of the difference and decided that I had to know the story behind it.

At dinner she said answering my pestering enquiry, “It is a very simple story. The places that we visited are all under my father in law’s estate. My husband passed away in an unfortunate accident merely within 2 years of our marriage. I had thought of going back to my parent’s house. But my father in law had a massive cerebral attack and got paralyzed. So I became the sole owner of these estates. I had to visit them from time to time along with an entourage though.

Slowly I got interested in their lives but found that as a landlady I cannot get close. So I started going there as an ordinary person and tired to understand their sorrows and joys, wants and desires. Finally I identified that apart from the help I can do financially I can also get involved in teaching the kids unconventionally, make them ready for conventional school or any walk of like they choose to pursue. After toiling for many years and trying out many ways I could get the folks out there and the kids to warm up to me. Those shacks are build by the kids and they keep improving them year on year. We do not allow any grown up or former kids to help either physically or financially. It is the pride of the kids – their own and I am their guide.”

I took time to digest all this and had more queries. She answered with her gentle smile and finally added. “Do not think that I do this only for them, I was lonely and without a purpose. I was left with so much money that even if I didn’t do anything I would be living a life of luxury. But what is a life without purpose. These people are my family. These kids are my life. Their wellbeing is the purpose of my life.”

We used to meet at the same bus-stand off and on and I would travel with her. One cold December day she didn’t arrive at the bus stand well after 9am, I called but she didn’t pick up so I decided to visit her home. By then I had become a frequent visitor to her mansion – I even had a room there with a closet – where I kept some of my cloths, in case I decided to stay over for the night – which was often.

I sensed the gloom as soon as I entered. Kruti, one of the hand maids hugged me – she had tears in her eyes. I ran to madam Koshi’s room. She was lying on her bed peaceful as ever. She had fulfilled her purpose on earth and gone away. Leaving me! I suddenly felt so lonely and started crying. Now I travel alone though not in the bus – I take my car, anyway it is a small one – till that van/cart puller. Then he takes me from shack to shack, amidst the lively kids I no longer feel lonely – along with everything else Madam Koshy bequeathed the purpose of her life to me!

The post Madam Koshy appeared first on MoAnRa.

by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

It has been a while but I still remember the day I almost met my doom. Tuesday it was and I had fewer classes so I wrapped up early and planned to visit the old fort. It was just round the corner after the university campus in a somewhat deserted location and though I had been there for a month the various formalities of a new appointment had kept me from visiting it.

I am a professor of archaeology and history is my passion, needless to impress upon the fact that I would be drawn to such a monument, that too at hand.

It was about 2pm when I started for the short trek – it would take me about 20 mnts to reach the gates of the old fort which was in ruins, was my estimate. Fortunately Neelima, my student was passing by in her car and offered to give me a lift. I asked her to stop at Mohanbhai’s shop to buy some refreshments and he warned me to get back before sundown – you know the usual warnings attached to the ruins pertaining to ghosts – the one thing other than god that I didn’t believe in. Neelima was subtle about the warning more out of respect but she too reiterated that I should be back to the campus before sundown, anyway there isn’t much to see around here she added.

There I was mesmerized by the beauty of the ruin – once stood a grandeur palace on this ground, I thought, which was now littered with broken glass bottles and cigarette butts. The fort was situated on a hillock as is common in order to defend it well by having a clear view of the surroundings. I could see parts of the city from various angles and was taking in the views as I advanced towards a broken wall with some inscriptions on it. I wanted to study it but suddenly I felt lose ground beneath my feet and before I could realise I fell. It was a short fall though – sort of a ditch it seemed, I stood up and was going to try to come up holding on to a branch but my eyes fell on an opening. The opening was quite broad and about 6ft tall, an inch taller than me.

I traversed quite a distance but the tunnel still went on. After another 5 mnts or so it split into two, I was undecided but took the one on the right. It went on and on and I went along until I felt very tired and seeing no end wanted to retrace my steps back. I sat for a while refreshed myself and was about to get up when I caught sight of a scarf – the light was dim in the tunnel but I still remember the scarf was turquoise blue – it seemed to flutter in space at a distance. I almost ran towards it, if there was air there must be an opening, I thought. But every time I neared the scarf it seemed to be a little further away. I kept following until I could see it no more. Fatigue was making my legs heavy and finally I could no longer stand. I stretched out my legs sitting against the wall and refreshed myself. My watch showed 4.25pm. Soon it’ll be dark, I thought, and I had come a long way from that ditch I fell into.

Just as I tried to hurry up to get going – I felt someone’s breath. ‘No one can catch us here, we will be safe here, stay with me.’ A very melodious voice pleaded. I sat myself down again and felt such peace that I had never felt before. I have always been a hyperactive guy since my early childhood, but there I wanted to rest forever. I closed my eyes and melted away in ecstasy. As if out of a trance, I heard loud footsteps and a cacophony – I could make out the word ‘Sir’. I think I responded with a faint ‘hello’. The rest has now taken the form of a recital as am doing now. Had it not been for Neelima’s concern and google’s tracking capability I would have been lying in that tunnel in eternal bliss. Neelima forced me to change my job and city, I owe her my life, she chose to be my wife even after I tried to go back to that mysterious melody a number of times, and I still feel the urge to.

The post The Tunnel appeared first on MoAnRa.

-Story by Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

Divya was forced to change trains and somehow managed to reach Mughalsarai past midnight, another hour max by road to her college hostel in Varanasi. But there was nothing to travel by!

Just when she had lost hope, a car stopped right in front of her and offered her a lift. Sharat was a man of medium built in his late 20s or so, dark tan with sharp features – his eyes were deep set and attractive with a bemused look in them.

Divya grabbed the offer and jumped in – they drove in silence for the greater part of the journey, her eyes unable to turn away from his enigmatic face, calm and composed.

Sharat turned his glance at her momentarily, she felt embarrassed for staring at him and mumbled, “Why are you traveling such late at night?”

“I have to keep travelling.” Sharat said nonchalantly.

“Why?” Divya asked wide eyed.

“It is a story you don’t want to hear.” Sharat gave her another glance and her heart skipped a beat.

“Try me.” She could barely speak.

“Well, I was just 7 when they first came over and laid me – I was bruised and torn. I screamed and cried.” Sharat said cocking his head to a side.

“I was a rather beautiful creature and my father sold me – night after night – to get his booze. My mother had died giving birth to me and my father never forgave me for that. I wanted to run away but didn’t have the courage to. I had no friends, no one to turn to. It was an endless pit and I was sinking, my soul was broken, my body was shattered and my heart – don’t think that tender me had any left – by the time I turned 10, I had decided to somehow kill myself. I focused on planning the end, procuring the materials like baygon spray…” Sharat’s eyes were on fire as he recollected the brutalities.

“And then?” Divya’s choking voice asked after a long pause.

“And then there was cholera and the entire village became desolate – I and a few handful of children were rescued by an NGO.” Sharat sighed.

Divya squeaked “And then?”

Sharat gave a sudden break disorienting Divya – “And then you get down.”

Divya looked around, they had arrived.

“No, tell me.” Divya pleaded.

Sharat gave a long look at her and got down. He opened her door and gestured her to come down. She complied. He led her to a nearby closed tea shop and sat on the bench. He motioned her to do the same. She sat.

Sharat looked into her eyes almost searching and then suddenly started, “The NGO educated me, I got a good job, but the past never stopped haunting me, I could not sleep a single night at a home – which I changed many times; I can only catch a wink while travelling, at a dhaba, train or plane – I can’t have a home.”

Divya had been starting at him straight, tears flowing down incessantly. They sat looking at each other for a long time, then she found her voice, “I’ll make you a home.”

The post Promise of a home appeared first on MoAnRa.

By Moutushi Ghoshdeysarkar

A very different landscape awaits, as one embarks on a journey to the Sunderbans. The trees seem like short stout all bones bones-exposed giants wading through the waters to get you. People are not allowed to land on any of the islands other than the areas specified by the government. The fishermen die in huge numbers every year as the tiger makes a swift meal of them. The tigers here are said to be expert swimmers – we actually saw one swimming effortlessly albeit quite a distance away, agile and almost ghost-like when they make a kill along with being expert manipulators.

A fishing boat was once picking up crabs from the sand banks (which is illegal) and they caught sight of a tiger. The tiger seemed to be uninterested and retreating to the jungle so the men continued. Almost in a jiffy the tiger pounced on one of them and dragged its prey into the jungle. So once you meet the tiger on land or in the waters close by, end of story.

It is a huge delta spread across India (4260 sq km) and Bangladesh (6017 sq km) with a multitude of rivers (Ganga, Padma, Brahmaputra and Meghna), rivulets and creeks flowing through mudflats and islands to finally meet the Bay of Bengal.

A wide range of tour operators have opened shops to give a slice of the Sunderbans experience for a few hundreds to a couple of thousands through the tidal waterways that are the only modes of transport in the delta region for island hoping, varying in depth from a few metres to several kilometres.

My father was instrumental in finding the key person; he got talking to a stranger at a party, well we all know how it goes, from weather to politics, economy to culture and then the inconsequential day to day personal affairs. Many months later I followed up and arranged for a trip; two nights and three days. It cost us around INR 7000/- per person (5 pax).

Sunderbans packages are available from a day trip to a night or two or three or as many as one may want to spend.

The delta area can be approached from both the South 24 parganas and the North 24 Parganas (Districts of West Bengal) though the former is favoured. Jhingakhali beat of the North 24 Parganas has a watch tower and viewing lines just as the others beats belonging to the South 24 Parganas. The jungle is divided in two ranges and further sub divided into beats for better management and security.

The most traversed path is a drive down till the ferry ghat of Gadhkhali (a small harbour to board and deboard from launches and boats), mount your designated motor boat (from the private tour company, a representative will definitely be there to guide) and voila.

The tour starts almost as soon as one is onboard, irrespective of where the stay would be or which tidal creek or rivulet the boat will go through. Sonakhali is the last Indian mainland town. A well maintained motor able bridge connects the island to the mainland which houses the exit points to the Sundarbans, namely Jharkhali and Godhkhali.

Jharkhali has a zoo where the wild animals that get injured or somehow go out of the jungle area are kept and cared for till they can be reintroduced in the wild.

The Gadhkhali ferry ghat is very busy with countless ferries going to and fro to the nearby islands of Gosaba/Baly etc and motor boats embarking and disembarking tourists for or from their respective trips.

We started early morning around 6.30Am on a winter day in January, 2019 from Narendrapur (Kolkata, WB). Around 2 and a half hours later with two breaks, a tea and a nature’s call we reached Gadhkhali. The gentleman Mr. Amit Das (our contact and owner of the resort where we were going to stay at Baly Island), was already there with the rest of our group who would be our companion on this trip.

Since we were self driving and would go back the same way, 2 days later, we left the car at a garage. There are a few available, they seemed trustworthy and unless we are considering vehicles worth a couple of millions, it doesn’t make business sense for them to sell it and shut shop.

Thus we carried our luggage (two bags, mostly cloths and medicines) to the Jetty (ferry ghat) about 200 mts from the garage and then hopped on to the motor boat. We were fortunate enough to have the company of four extremely lovely people.

The motor boat had two stories, lower quarters having a washroom for guests another for the staff, a kitchen and four flat space (sort of bed) to stretch out on if need be and the need did arise on the second day but more on that later, the upper deck had the engine room and viewing area with chairs and also a dining table. This was to be our abode for the next two days while on the waterways of The Sunderbans.

As the introduction to our companions and the manager were underway we were already cruising on our way through the river Bidyadhari, with the island of Gosaba on one side and Baly on the other.

In a while a sumptuous breakfast was laid out and the hungry tourists had a great fill. The breeze still had some chill and the sunshine felt comfortable. After a while we reached Sajnekhali (Every boat has to take permission and a guide from the forest office), it houses a few animals like the crocodiles, monitor lizards, the river terrapin and of course the free willed rhesus macaque, interestingly the monkeys here have short tails unlike their common cousins.

Officially the tour started after we got the permit. Thus we sailed and sailed, sometimes by the side of the island, sometimes through the middle of a wide creek. To an average tourist it gets monotonous after a while, as the vegetation is not widely variegated. But to a nature lover it is pure bliss. We were experiencing low tide and the mud flats were full of activity with mud skippers, the sand pipers (bird) and the egrets going about their business steadily.

It was opportune that among our companions we had an acclaimed Zoologist who could tell the names of every bird and animal as though they were his classmates. Anunitadi (I really loved her name), another companion (an eye doctor by profession) had a keen eye for spotting birds.

We shot like mad, a bird on this bank, another on the other, now on a tree top, next on the sands, a wild boar here, a water monitor (cousin of the great komodo) there, interrupted only by a round of good tea/coffee and then came the pug marks, sign of a fresh crossing!

It instantly reminded me of Kanha (Kanha National Park, Maharashtra) where we did 5 jeep safaris and on the first three we kept on getting excited looking at pug marks, and scats and scratches but nothing could prepare us for our rendezvous with the King, when we finally did come face to face on the 4th safari.

So we chased the pug marks for a while, the guide looking sharp and we expectant with heightened excitement. Some creeks we passed through were so narrow that if not in the hands of an experienced driver, the boat could get stranded.

Crocodiles were basking in the sun, kingfishers meditating, the wild boars digging the sand ruthlessly and the egrets (small, intermediate and large) dancing around,  giving us ample opportunity to identify them. The scene continued as we closely watched the upturned roots of the mangrove trees looking like spikes sprinkled on the banks and soaked in the salty calm.

The mangrove root system is very intriguing. The trees have to deal with extra salinity as they suffer both the salty high tide coming in from the sea and the residual salt in low tide as the sun evaporates the water. Yet these trees thrive in such inhospitable conditions as they face very less competition on these grounds.

Soon it was lunch time and again a splendid spread was on offer. We cherished it thoroughly and went back to bird watching. We saw and photographed atleast 6 varieties of kingfisher. By now spotting was becoming a tad easier but taking the perfect shot was another ball game yet to be mastered.

Around 4pm we went to Sudhanyakhali watch tower. In Sunderbans the tigers can be seen only if they are voluntarily crossing the rivers / creeks or they are dragging a kill up the bank. Freshwater sources to drink are available in the interiors of the islands. The watch towers constructed by the government are placed next to the fresh water sources in anticipation that the tiger might be allured out of the thicket and the people might get their money’s worth.

A bunch of very noisy Homo sapiens were already present when we alighted the steps of the tower. So we waited for the noisy variety of our species to leave. Thereafter we saw a jungle fowl, a spotted deer family with small kids and kingfishers.

Monkeys are galore and are prone to snatching any packets that simulate food packets. We were not carrying anything of the sort but on a later trip my parents reported that a lady got robbed of her medicines along with the fruits. The monkey tasted every tablet and showed extreme annoyance not having found them to his/her taste.

The sun was setting silently over the waters as we made our way towards the resort where we were to spend the night. The resort by the river side is nicely done up with a rustic look, a few huts and a dining area. We were too tired to look around but could not miss noticing a wide variety of plants in the garden.

After a round of tea, snacks, chitter-chatter and once again a very delicious dinner, the tired souls hit the bed. A very important and surprising fact: There were no mosquitoes in our rooms.

At night Rajib started feeling sick, threw up several times and was in extreme discomfort. We had a long day ahead and I was a bit worried. Amitda (owner), his manager and our companions were very supportive. The eldest gentleman’s concern was really heart warming. A light breakfast was arranged for Rajib. He spent the day at the lower quarters of the boat and skipped all meals.

We experienced high tide as we started the journey and the mud flats that we saw the previous day were all flooded. The trees had marks, we had noticed, even the leaves were of a faded tone till a point, now we knew why.

The boat strolled on and we sat back gazing at the sunbathed mangroves as we approached a wide expanse of water called ‘Panchmukhani’. We went on to ‘Dobanki’ which houses a watch tower and an elevated canopy walk through the jungle. There were lots of ducks and cormorants in the fresh water pond and a kingfisher perched on a branch focused on a prey that had become a delightful but usual sight by then.

Sajnekhali, Sudhanyakhali, Dobnaki and further down Netidhopani watch towers are all on the same island, a few kilometres apart. Almost all tour operators are authorised to take the tourists only till this island. The river Bidyadhari goes on further past the island to meet the Bay of Bengal and possibly faces more volatile currents which could overturn the boats, thus tourists are not allowed beyond a certain point.

After a refreshing drifting around in the tidal waters we were back at the resort a little before sun down. Roddur was given an opportunity to drive the boat towards the end and he felt euphoric. Rajib was feeling better by then and had come up to the viewing deck.

The next morning we were free to meander on land, namely on Baly island and we took the winding road by the river which went passed a village or two. The birds gave us ample shots and Rajib made up for his lost day. We had great fun as Anoushrayan and me and Rajib took turns to go up the climbing nets at the resort.

The river side is filled with small medium and big resorts, even the government is engaged in the construction of rest houses. Development is underway; with a proposed bridge, joining the mainland to Baly, which is expected to make general commute easier, land prices have gone up many folds within the past 5 years in anticipation.

Exotic to vegetable and fruit bearing plants all looked healthy and thriving, albeit care has to be taken. There was a plant in the resort (Cnest Sunderbans) which Anujda (Manager babu) called “All spice”, it really had the smell of a plethora of spices.

After breakfast and fond goodbyes to Anujda (most cooperative and efficient) and his wife Supriya (the wonderful cook), we boarded the motor boat for one last time to be dropped off at the Gadkhali ferry ghat.

Sunderbans is not about tigers, as the popular saying goes, it is a unique habitat with a unique flora and fauna like the ‘Garol’ which is a miniature version of the sheep not found anywhere else on earth.

Our trip was in a word – supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. We saw otters and crocodiles and deer and wild boars and water monitors up and close. We saw numerous birds doing mesmerizing acrobatics and almost everything that Sunderbans has to offer sans the tiger.

But then Roddur said something that caught my fancy. Even if we didn’t see her majesty, who knows may be she has been watching us all this while; now that is an uncanny feeling for sure!

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