Spotted Deer watches from the bank

We board the MV Sundari – a vessel much smaller than what our Bangladeshi boat had been. There are other degrees of differences which are immediately apparent. Whereas in Bangladesh we cruised through open water vibrant with human absence; here, the boat requires skilful handling to negotiate the river traffic. And because the channels are much wider; there are broader tidal mudflats and therefore more waders. We spot the Pacific Golden Plover within a short while. We pass islands with pilings to buttress embankments – evidence of the devastation wrought by the cyclone, Ila, two years ago. 

Estuarine Crocodile

That same afternoon we spend a leisurely two hours on the river to register for the park. The point of registration is at the Sajnekhali Tiger Project. Implemented in 1973, Project Tiger was then demarcated to cover over 2585 sq km of the Sundarbans. The core area of 1330 sq km called the Sundarbans Tiger Reserve was chosen as a World Heritage Site. However, landing here at Sajnekhali comes as a rude shock. It is a place where no code of dress or behaviour is honoured. The concomitant noise and litter of local visitors is appalling. The watchtowers are crowded with yelling families. Every bid to communicate is done at high volume. Shops cater to indiscriminate needs of negligent tourists. There is a total lack of awareness. Everybody seems to be carried away by emotions, over-reacting and amplifying every urge. There is no stepping back, no monitoring of thoughts and emotions, no sophisticated control of behaviour, no regulation of appropriate responses. So we wander off into an area ostensibly sealed off by barbed wire. But it’s the only quiet place where we can give our senses a chance. 

A large water monitor lizard

A very large water monitor lizard fills our field of view, its forked tongue flicking in and out, snake-like, exploring its surroundings. The monitor is at rest, soaking up the last of late-afternoon-warmth. Prehistoric creatures, reptiles seem to inspire dread amongst the best of us. Forgetting most of the baggage we usually bring to our perception of such creatures, we notice its deep grey colour and the tiny yellowish-pink spots that decorate it. Its head appears to be too small for its body and its tail is flattened from side to side. The splayed sturdy legs will probably enable it to outrun us. The air is still, punctuated with the whine of a few mosquitoes. With great care and caution we approach the water monitor for photographs and after a few clicks of the camera, we leave it in peace. 

A White-bellied Sea Eagle

To a crescendo of birdsong in the sad and failing dusk, we board our boat. So fatigued are we of having to consciously shut out the profane that we decline the offer to visit yet another watchtower and thus ends our day with a secret tension between love and despair for the Sundarbans in particular and wilderness in general. 

Besra drinking water