I wake up and draw the
curtains. It’s white outside. The dark whiteness stretches all the
way down to the road. We breakfast and head for the domestic terminal
for a flight to Jessore. And of course there is an ‘uncertain
delay’. At the check-in counter we’re told, “Joshshu, is fog
too mach!” At noon we hear that the flight has been cancelled. I
rush to the check-in desk and ask the GMG airline staff if what we
heard was true and she says, “maybe cancelled” which translates
as ‘definitely cancelled’! The other domestic airline stops
selling tickets ‘because it’s too mach trable’! So I ring the
Guide Tours travel agent to ask whether they have a man at the
airport who could exercise his influence to get us on another flight
and yes, they do. They work quickly. A representative collects our
tickets and rushes to re-purchase two seats on the airline that had
just closed its sales counter. Then he urges us to stand in a queue
to check in and we’re through. We are told the flight is due to
depart at any moment. We’re excited. At last we’ll be off. I see
a lovely white plane with a gold motif on its tail, land. How
beautiful it looks. Our flight is called. One has to keep one’s
eyes on the ball at all times. Nothing is transmitted over the PA
system. When a flight is ready to leave, a lectern is placed at a
suitable position for the airline staff and a voice booms. So we
scurry up to the gate and wait. When we haven’t scurried in vain,
we board the bus. Then we play the waiting game.
We wait. And wait some
more. The engine of the bus is then turned off. Everybody begins to
disembark except us. I refuse to follow the crowd. Since no one has
told us what to do, we sit and hope that may be for us, the news is
different! I want to be told to get up and get out in no uncertain
terms. And then of course that’s exactly what I’m told. The
flight won’t take off because it’s ‘too dangerous’. The fog
now is in Jessore and it hasn’t yet lifted. I explore the option of
driving. But everyone advises against the plan. Roads are bad, it’s
too dangerous…in fact, no passenger that I spoke to had ever driven
to Jessore!. So the only real option was to take the half-hour
flight.
Another hour of waiting
and then miraculously, we are truly ready to go. The aircraft we
board is not the pretty plane I had earlier longingly admired but a
tiny Fokker Friendship with props. Anything would do. We’re
desperate to get airborne. The stewardess is a pleasant woman, who
serves, makes announcements and attends to the cockpit’s needs. She
is too tall for her craft and must bend a bit to avoid hitting her
head. At Jessore, on the tarmac, I try taking a photograph of the
plane and am summarily shooed off. But I don’t give up. Just
outside the confines of the airport, I ask our vehicle to stop so I
could take my picture!
Lunch is at a local ‘fast
food’ restaurant. The fare is rice, fish curry and a serious mutton
curry, local vegetables, and dal. It’s ‘fast’ because the
waiters are scurrying around busily taking everyone’s orders. We
are shown a table and we all sit – the driver, the guide, and us.
Lots of food is laid on the table. We can barely hear ourselves think
above the din. The food is cold, but tasty. Ken recognises the meat
as something he could eat. He is well-travelled and has eaten in some
rather suspicious-looking places. After lunch we drive for two hours
to Mongla Port. On the way we change guides. This young man speaks
better English and is a pleasant chap although his birding knowledge,
we discover, is very limited.
The road to Mongla was
built five years ago. It’s still in good condition and the traffic
is light. So we are in pretty good humour when we board the M.V.
Bonbibi, a six-cabined boat. And we have it all to ourselves. We
weren’t expecting this. We rush around excitedly. It’s bright and
shiny and clean. Our cabins are tiny so we store our luggage in the
vacant cabins. It’s just five o’clock and already the tide of
darkness has us in its embrace. No more rising at unwelcoming hours
to catch elusive flights. We’re at peace, at last. There is only
one niggling problem. There is no booze on board. Everyone on the
boat is Muslim, yet they call up their smuggler-contacts from a local
village, and enroute to the forest checkpost, we collect a very
expensive bottle of Beefeater Gin and some six bottles of San Miguel
beer made in the Philippines. Having secured the permits to enter the
narrow channels of the Sundarbans, and a cargo of two armed guards,
we sail in great silence as light withdraws from around us.
Soon dinner is laid –
an interesting mix – Spaghetti Bolognaise, deep fried prawns and
French Fries! Having sailed from the checkpost down the Selagang
channel for an hour or so in the dark, we drop anchor near
Tambulbunia. I step outside. There is no ambient light to interfere
with the viewing of the inky black sky crowded with brilliant fire.
Orion is overhead. I search for the nebula and find it. I spot
Cassiopeia, look for Pegasus and the Andromeda constellation. Then I
pick out the Andromeda galaxy. It’s one of the easiest to spot. But
haze and cloud roll in; clouds shroud the moon; and then everything
fades to black. It’s time to go.
Text and photographs by Jennifer Nandi.