AN EXCURSION TO THE SUNDERBANS

AN EXCURSION TO THE SUNDERBANS Juned A. Choudhury A former classmate of mine, Syed Hasan Imam Kazmi, and his wife Atiya, who live in Brussels, had come to Dhaka recently on a short visit. Hasan was the CEO of ESSO in Pakistan and Singapore/Malaysia. M. Anis Ud Dowla, our other classmate, and his wife Niloo, arranged an excursion to the Sunderbans in honour of the Kazmis and invited us to join. It was the first visit for all of us. The Sunderbans are the largest mangrove forests in the world, comprising the major portion of deltaic Southern Bangladesh and West Bengal in India. The name comes from the dark-leaved straight-growing Sunderi tree. We found the forest is now mostly covered in light-green Kewra trees. I mistook them for the Australian yellow-flowering acacia, which are now so common in Asia, from the National Monument in Koala Lumpur, to the tea estates in Sylhet and the boulevards of Lahore. Deer thrive on Kewra leaves. A characteristic of a mangrove tree, as our fellow traveler Ansarey explained, is that it grows in swamps, which get flooded during high tide. In order to get oxygen for survival, the roots grow straight upwards, up to just above the high water level. Day 1: Dhaka to Nowhere Our group of eight took the slightly delayed 9:45 A.M. GMG flight from Dhaka to Jessore. Besides us, the three couples, the other two were Ansarey of ACI and Klaus Gohra, an Australian who is the Manager, Asian Region, of Kleenheat Gas, a joint-venture LPG bottling plant beside the Passur river at Mongla. Klaus just happened to be on the flight, but his plant was our first destination. We boarded the boat at his jetty and were to spend the last night at his guest-house. Ansarey, the avtaar Ansarey was the tour organizer. I was to learn later that he is a person of unusual capabilities. An agro-scientist and mass communicator, he studied in USA and UK, holds a doctorate, and worked for long with Ciba-Geigy before joining ACI. He was a fiery, left-leaning Jashod student leader in Rajshahi and at the national level. He loves the Sunderbans and knows it like the back of his hand. In fact, he is familiar with the cultures of all the tribal peoples of Bangladesh, the Manipuris, Chakmas, Santhals, Garos, etc. It is his passion and was also part of his profession, as Ciba patronized conservation of the environment and tribal cultures. Every October/November during the Ras Purnima, a 3-day mela is held on an island at the edge of the Sunderbans, where up to half a million Hindu devotees come for a purifying dip in the sea. Ansari is one of the holy men at the mela – worshippers seek blessings from him by offering tilak and garlands! We drove 100kms from Jessore airport to Mongla, passing Khulna city, where we crossed the Rupsha by ferry. At 2:45, Mohammed Faruk, the owner of “M. L. Royal Gondola”, welcomed us on board with flowers. He is also the owner of the eight-story Hotel Royal International in Khulna and has interest in fishing and fish export. His capabilities are also diverse and he is a very pleasant host. Lunch was served on the upper deck with sides open. The table cover and the wind were trying to topple the wine glasses. We had mainly fish and vegetables and home-cooked pithas. Numerous varieties of fruits were laid out on one table and an equally numerous variety of drinks on another (thanks to Ansarey, no wonder, an avtaar!). A bunk too short Royal Gondola was built in Khulna six years ago out of cannibalized materials from the ship-breaking yards in Chittagong. It has sleeping accommodation for forty, in 2-bunk, 3-bunk and double-bed cabins. Having chartered the vessel, there was ample space for the seven of us, with the crew of twelve falling over themselves to serve us. The 3-bunk cabins had two bunks on top of each other on one side, and one bunk of medium height on the other side. I thought of taking one of these, with two bunks for sleeping and one to keep our baggage on. But my legs stuck 8 inches out of the bunks. On the other hand, the double-bed cabins had less luggage space, but I could lie down comfortably on the inner side of the bed, the outer side being slightly short conforming to the shape of the hull. I decided to take the double bed. Hasan very kindly took time off from sight-seeing to assist me in the decision-making process. He was rewarded with the VIP cabin on the upper deck. At dusk we had tea and snacks, hot from the galley. The itinerary read “Barbecue dinner at Dublarchar at 10 P.M”. However, we were to learn the hard way that journeys on the coastal waterways so much depend on weather, navigation, intermittent flickering buoys, tide timings and good fortune, that not only did we have to have dinner on board (albeit at 10), but.… A night to remember Roast duck, roast chicken, kebabs and parathas were served for dinner. After dinner, Anis invited us to the front deck to “see” the “pitch dark”, a contradiction to begin with. We all stumbled out. Nishat was so excited (for reasons undisclosed) she wanted to do the “Titanic act” at the masthead. Everyone rushed towards her in a mock rescue. I was still hobbling in the corridor near the bridge. The sudden commotion distracted the master of the vessel and also blocked his view. Before we knew what was happening, the vessel got stuck on a shoal. At that spot the Passur is met by Shibsa and becomes about 10kms wide. We had about one kilometer on one side and nine on the other. Hilarity gave way to somber thoughts and silent prayers. Pitch darkness indeed! The crew tried to move the boat in all directions, but to no avail. The only solution was to wait for the tide to come and re-float the boat. That would be another two hours at the earliest. My last river cruise in Bangladesh was in 1974 and the experience was similar – floating on a small boat midstream on the choppy Meghna near Chandpur, as wide as Passur-Shibsa, or may be more, in the dead of night, with no fuel in the tank. The occasion was the inaugural run of sea-trucks on the Dhaka-Barisal route. The host was the Shipping Minister himself, Gen. Osmany, and the 20-odd passengers included 3 or 4 fellow-Ministers, 3 or 4 High Commissioners and Ambassadors, and the top brass of the Navy and IWTC. I was on board, sitting quietly in a corner, as guest of my cousin Ifti, now at the UN, who was Osmany’s Private Secretary then. Someone had forgotten to top-up the tank at Barisal. We had to wait till an accompanying smaller sea-truck returned from Narayanganj with the fuel. We reached home at dawn. At that time we had half a dozen armed guards; this time none. We retired to the enclosed lounge on the lower deck for a game of rummy. Not being any good at cards I watched from the side, but could discern that cheating was rampant. Well past midnight one by one we went to bed, each according to size and status. Day 2: Exploring the Wildlife As agreed earlier, Atiya knocked on our door to wake us up to see the sunrise. We were still anchored in a channel on way to Dublarchar. We found Anis, wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the upper deck. It transpired that he and Ansarey had not slept throughout the night, out of a “sense of responsibility” towards the guests, to give moral support to the struggling crew, and, not the least, due to the lure of the Australian vine. As a reward, they could experience the heavenly transformation of darkness into light in the stillness of the forest. “Lord, Sovereign of all sovereignty,” Atiya recited from the Koran, “You cause the night to pass into the day, and the day to pass into the night” (3:27). Monkey trick We had anchored before reaching the destination in order to give some rest to the crew. We soon reached Major Zia’s camp at Dublarchar. It is one of the Southern-most islands of Sunderbans. Beyond it is the Bay of Bengal. After a hurried breakfast on board we got into two speedboats with powerful outboard engines. One had two engines, which Faruk steered and the other had one. Zia’s younger brother, Kamal, joined us for the morning cruise. It took us about an hour to reach the National Wildlife Sanctuary at Hiron Point towards the West. Passing through the channels we saw the usual thick Kewra forest and Gulpatta, a palm tree growing all along on the edge of the water. Its leaves are used for roofing. A few deer, storks and other birds were spotted. Faruk kept on rolling his movie camera with stunning result while steering the speedboat at the same time. We passed a fishermen’s village. They come there during the dry season. Shrimps are sent to Khulna for export and dry fish to Chittagong. We had not gone far when we came across two men catching crabs with hooks hanging from a long string. Faruk asked them to deliver their modest catch to the Royal Gondola. These were deliciously served at the barbecue dinner. At Hiron Point, also adjoining the sea, there is the Forest Station with neat green-roofed houses built on stilts, a Naval installation and a two-storied Forest Rest House for tourists. At a clear area nearby, known as Tiger Point, we got down from the speedboats. Kamal asked one of the Forest guards to break a few branches of Kewra. He did so and left the leafy branches on the ground. Kamal explained to us that monkeys and deer are very friendly. Monkeys playfully break small branches and give them to the deer. The sound of cracking branches travels far into the forest and deer come looking for the leaves. Sure enough, after a little while we could see a few deer coming towards us. But probably they saw through our monkey-trick and kept their distance. Anis in an athletic mood demonstrated what height one has to at to be safe from tigers, by climbing a tree, a feat which none of us dared. Zia Camp We came back for lunch to the Royal Gondola anchored at Major Zia’s jetty and took a stroll around the camp. There is a large pond for fishery and a wooden foot bridge leads to an island in the pond. We sat there under a thatched parasol. Anis, back to his antics, first tried fishing with a rod. Then he took a net and deftly threw it in a circle. He tried a few times throwing from the bank, but all he caught was one small fish. Major Zia is a legendary figure in the Sunderbans and the South Western districts. While a young officer in the Pak Army he joined the War of Liberation and fought valiantly. However, soon afterwards he got disenchanted with the new government and took up arms against it forming an underground organization in the process. He set up base deep in the Sunderbans and held sway over the entire region. Originally with the Jashod, he later joined other political parties. All along he has been a friend of the down trodden. He protected and helped the fishermen of the coastal areas, 80% Hindu, to organize themselves into co-operatives. Currently, he is the Chairman of the “Dubla Ras Mela Celebration Committee”. Ansarey and Faruk have been friends of Major Zia for long. Though, for how long and to what extent their paths have met, is difficult to fathom. Parley vous Francais? It was a coincidence that Faruk had brought along a young friend of his, French-speaking, Salahuddin Joy (a joy to know) who had returned home to Khulna a few days back from Brussels, where Hasan and Atiya also came from. He had gone to Europe seven years ago seeking fortune and is now settled in Brussels with a Belgian wife and a baby daughter. I had a chance to practice my rusty French with the three of them, particularly when it came to matters gastronomic. Katka Forest Station For the long after-lunch cruise we took only the faster speedboat and, therefore, besides Kamal who stayed back at his camp, had to leave Joy on the Gondola to follow us to the evening rendez-vous at Katka Wildlife Sanctuary about 30 kilometers to the East. We sped over the calm sea to Pakkir Char and explored the beach. The deer had not come out yet. We then went towards Katka. On the way, we encountered a large crocodile lazing in the water near an island. As we approached, it turned with a flip of its tail and headed menacingly directly towards us. My wife’s was the loudest as everyone screamed to Faruk to stop filming and turn the boat. The crocodile turned – to our relief, and the joy of having seen it. Around 5 in the evening we reached Katka jetty, by which time the Gondola also arrived. We walked the cleared path of about 200 meters to the 5-storied Jamtala Watch Tower to see the environs and the setting sun. Meantime, Anis, not giving up, found a net and went fishing again, this time knee deep in the potentially crocodile-infested channel. He got some shrimps, which were fried within minutes and served with the drinks. A barbecue was set up on the jetty with the dark forest in the background and the well-lit Gondola in front. Electric lights and tables were laid out and the enjoyable dinner went on till late in the evening. The crew was in high spirits as well, probably fuelled by spirit. Steward Sagar politely proposed that they all wanted to sing for us. It was with difficulty that Chef Nazrul was dissuaded from continuing after his third mystical tune. Day 3: Katka to Mongla The tone for the day was set by the programme, which read “Start for Mongla by boat (Tourists don’t need to get up)” and “Breakfast on the boat: 8:00 – 10:30”. The atmosphere was so relaxed that when the tide started at about 4:30 A.M. the loop of the rope with which the boat was loosely tied to a tree came off and the boat drifted down the channel (opposite direction of the sea) unmanned and unnoticed. We would have started early but had to wait for Anis and Ansarey who had decided to spend the night on the watch tower, with the master of the boat and an armed Forest guard, much to the consternation of Niloo. In the fog and in their deep sleep they would not have noticed a tiger even if it had passed under them. The 70-kilometer journey back to Mongla took us about 12 hours, 6 to 6. We first followed a narrow channel and then a different river, the Sela gang, before finally meeting the Passur at a point called Joymongal, just short of Mongla. The return route was more scenic, and being daytime we were able to see and film some rare and lovely birds. As no boat can enter the entire Sunderbans without a permit from the Forest Dept., there was not a boat moving on the rivers except ours, a flag-flying Minister’s launch going downstream, and one or two watching the fishing nets near the banks. Such vast lonely areas, all to us, seemed out of this world, out of Bangladesh for sure. Greg, the Plant Manager of Kleenheat, and a couple from New Zealand visiting him met us at the jetty. After a shower and discarding the safari attire, we had dinner at the guest house. The Kiwis had brought along some of their native wine, which was appreciated by the connoisseurs amongst us. The day ended with an after-dinner tour of the plant led by Greg. Day 4: Mongla to Dhaka After breakfast, we drove straight to Jessore airport and took the 10:45 GMG flight to Dhaka, again slightly delayed. Day 5: Inauguration of Sea Truck service After a lapse of three decades, sea trucks are again in the news. The day after our return, at Mongla port, the Shipping Minister inaugurated a sea truck service for tourists between Mongla and Hiron Point. Sleeping accommodation on board will not be needed as these will be faster and tourists can stay at the Forest Rest House at Hiron Point. Tourists from Dhaka can stay overnight in Khulna, which is 48kms from Mongla. Whither Sunderbans? The Kaziranga National Park in Assam and the Sunderbans in Bangladesh and West Bengal are UNESCO World Heritage Sites. They deserve to be protected with care and respect by all mankind. While it is important that people, particularly the younger generation, can go there with ease to observe the fauna and flora, care has to be taken that unregulated conduct does not damage these places of universal value. Where the sound of cracking of a branch of a tree can cause a stir, imagine the terror that a roaring out-boat engine can create. My friend Manju Barua runs the premier resort in Kaziranga, named Wild Grass. He is so careful that he does not even have a signboard on the road lest it spoils the sanctity of the place. On a recent visit, I had to drive up and down the highway looking for the entrance road, though I had been there several times. Back home, another friend, Masum Choudhury, had been to the Sunderbans recently. He wrote to me, “Sitting at Hiron Point I wrote a short poem. If translated it would be something like this, A deer whispered in my ears, ‘why do you have to come here, can' t we live in peace, promise me you would not come back again’ and in my heart I said ‘yes’." Masum, we have been co-existing for thousands of years, why can’t we do so now, when we are a thousand times more enlightened? ______________________