1 - The Photograph:: The Adventure Begins

Present Day                       -              Sundarbans Tiger Reserve, West Bengal

‘What is that in the frame?’ – Shandilya asked me pointing at a small photo frame hung on the opposite wall of the drawing room.

‘Oh that!’ – I replied, handing over the cup of piping hot coffee to him – ‘It has an interesting story behind.’

‘What is it?’ – He took the cup.

I took a pause while pouring my coffee and said – ‘This is the photograph of a handwritten phrase in an almost extinct aboriginal adivasi language. I had taken this snap last year.’

‘It seems to be written with a stick on the ground’ – Shandilya said and took his first sip, testing the almost simmering surface of dark brown coffee with his puckered lips.

‘Yeah. He left it written on the ground and disppeared.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know his name. No one knows. It’s an interesting story. A real incident!’ – I replied, rolling the hot cup between my palms.

‘Oh, on this bright Saturday morning I have all day to listen to stories in this lonely place.’ – Shandilya said sportingly.

‘Really?’ – I caught up on his enthusiasm – ‘Then let us sit in the verandah there and then I shall relate you the most amazing and incredible incident of my life.’

We both moved in the direction of the verandah.

Manohar Shandilya had reported yesterday evening and was going to share my quarter, which was big enough to house two semi-bachelors – as our wives were not living with us – easily. Last year only I was promoted as Deputy Field Director under the Directorate of Forest. Shandilya was transferred here as Assistant Field Director.

Sundarbans National Park – in Bengali Shundorbon Jatiyo Udyan - is a Tiger Reserve and Biosphere Reserve of India over the Ganges Delta of India and Bangladesh. More than 200 Royal Bengal Tigers’ haven is the largest mangrove forest of the world and shares area with Bangladesh. Covering around 4000 KM² area has not only mangroves but freshwater swamp forests too.

Entire forest is criss-crossed with innumerous river channels running around marshy islands and large swamps.

My post and quarter was on the North-eastern edge of the forest. There are several places still in the dense forest which have not - and could not have - been visited by humans. Until that eventful day last year, at least I believed that only.

In the verandah - overlooking the green flat ground and river bank at a distance, both of us took our chairs in the pleasant sunlight of this third Saturday of November.

‘So, what about this interesting incident?’ – Shandilya prompted.

‘Then I was Assistant Field Director, deputed on Dobanki watchtower and trail office for two days. It was late evening’ – I tried to remember – ‘around 6 pm almost, last year from this day, when we got a tip that some poachers have been seen entering the forest from far Eastern edge of the forest. I took a local ranger and entered the dense forest on my jeep. But it could not take us far inside the forest as most of the place is marshy and with intercrossing water channels. We took a patrol motor boat and entered deep into the forest with our guns, binoculars, phones, walkie-talkies, water canteens, other night patrolling gear and dry fruits.

I had directed one more team of four people from the opposite direction to enter the place so that we could easily locate the poachers before dark. As we were going, the place was echoing with natural sounds – chirping chorus of variety of birds returning home, consistent and diligent screeching, mating calls of crickets and occasional screams of Macaques. Suddenly the serene sound track was disturbed by an unnatural, brief but sharp noise – the report of a gunfire…’
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