by Amitav Ghosh
I had a quick look at the dictionary. ‘A bauley is a man who leads people into the jungle, right? In the Sundarbans?’
‘Ya. They get to do that coz they have this special thing with some animals. Rafi sez his grandad was like that. Wud that make him a shaman?’
A feeling of being very far out of my depth took hold of me now.
‘You know who you should ask about this stuff?’ I wrote. ‘Piya. She works with animals.’
A pause. ‘You think Piya communicates with animals?’
‘She hinted that she recognized gratitude in one of her dolphins. That’s communication of a sort, isn’t it? Though of course she could never say so.’
‘Why culdnt she say so?’
‘Because scientists aren’t allowed to say things like that.’
A string of laughter emoticons scrolled past me, and then: ‘Catch ya later.’
* * *
The next day it struck me that I now had a legitimate reason to send Piya an email.
‘Hi, Piya,’ I wrote. ‘How are you? Are you in the US? I’ve been wondering about how Tipu’s getting on. Could we talk some time? Yours. Deen.’
She wrote back a few hours later. ‘Hi, Deen. I’m in Oregon. Call me any time. Here’s my number.’
I waited a while, so as not to seem too eager.
‘Hi, Piya.’
‘Hi there, Deen.’
I’d prepared myself for a brisk brush-off but she didn’t seem to be in a hurry. We chatted casually for a while before turning to the subject of Tipu: ‘So how’s he doing?’
‘To be honest,’ she said, ‘Tipu’s not doing too good. It’s weird – he seemed to have recovered completely, but then he had a relapse. Started getting these blackouts and migraines. We tried to get him to see a doctor but he wouldn’t. The only thing that seemed to help him was hanging out with Rafi.’
‘Oh, so they’ve become good friends, have they?’
‘I guess.’
‘That’s interesting,’ I said. ‘They’re so different. I suppose they bonded over that awful incident. Anyway, I’m glad they’ve become friends.’
The line went quiet for a moment.
When Piya spoke again, it was in a quiet, confiding tone. ‘You know, Deen, I think they may be more than just friends.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. I’ve wondered about Tipu’s sexuality in the past. He’s not said anything to me but I think it’s possible that Tipu may have something special going on with Rafi. They certainly spend a lot of time together.’
‘He mentioned Rafi in one of his messages to me.’
‘What?’ She sounded very surprised. ‘Has Tipu been in touch with you then?’
‘Yes he has. He’s been sending me these weird questions. “What’s a ghost?” “What’s a shaman?”’
She burst out laughing. ‘That’s Tipu. He always finds a way to pull your chain.’
‘You think that’s what he’s doing?’
‘Sure sounds like it. Anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I said. ‘And what about you? Are you heading back to the Sundarbans any time soon?’
‘Not for a few months.’ She sighed. ‘I’m dreading it actually. The news from there isn’t good. More shoals of dead fish drifting up. And my assistants even found a big crab die-off – a huge swarm of them lying dead on a mud bank. That’s seriously bad news because crabs are a keystone species in the Sundarbans.’
‘Do you think the refinery is to blame?’
‘That’s what I suspect, yeah, but there’s no proof yet. And in the meantime, all the other stuff – the harassment, the hate mail – all of it just keeps getting worse.’
‘So it must be a relief to be back in Oregon then?’
‘It is,’ she said. ‘Not that things are much better here, though. In fact I’m not even at home. I’m up in the mountains with my college room-mate, Lisa. She’s been going through a bad time … it’s a long story.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Okay. So Lisa’s an entomologist and teaches in a community college up here, in the mountains. Some years ago she started a research project on bark beetles – they’re these insects that eat up trees from the inside so that when there’s a dry spell the dead wood is like kindling, just waiting to go up in flames. Bark beetles have been extending their range, as the mountains warm up, and Lisa found that they’ve invaded the forests around the town where she lives. She went to the town council to warn them that they had to do something. But no one paid any attention, not the mayor, nor anyone else, least of all the people who were in harm’s way. To them she’s just a pushy outsider who doesn’t know anything about the mountains and is trying to make a name for herself. Well this year there was a long drought and a couple of weeks ago a huge wildfire broke out, just as Lisa had warned. The state had to declare an emergency and send in helicopters and stuff. Two people died and dozens of houses were burnt down.’
Piya paused to take a breath.
‘You would think that afterwards people would have thanked Lisa for her warnings and treated her as a hero or something. But no: what they did was that they blamed her! A rumour went around that she had started the fire herself because she wanted more funding for her research. Soon it was all over the social media. She was even questioned by a cop. Then she began to get threats – even death threats. Someone fired a bullet into her porch; a tree in her yard was set on fire. Luckily it didn’t do much harm but now she’s terrified, so I’m spending a few days with her, just to cheer her up.’
Piya paused again.
‘Can you believe it? It’s like we’re back in the Dark Ages – women being attacked as witches!’
* * *
For several months Tipu disappeared from my screen. I began to think that he had at last tired of his pranks – this should have pleased me but instead I felt just a little disappointed.
And then one morning the interface for the online telephony program that I was then using popped up on my screen, accompanied by a shrill ringing.
‘You have a call from [email protected].’
I hit Answer and Tipu’s face appeared in front of me, grinning, pixie-like, but without the ear stud and the blond highlights.
‘Hey, man! Turn on your camera.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to see where you are.’
‘I’m in my study.’
‘Yeah, so lemme see it.’
Grudgingly I turned on the camera. ‘There’s not much to see here.’
But Tipu wasn’t listening to me. ‘Wow! You got a shitload of books out there.’
‘Yes, well that’s what I do. I sell old books.’
He snickered. ‘You mean people still read those things?’
‘Fewer and fewer.’
Now Tipu made a whistling sound: ‘Eeeew.’ This was intended, I soon realized, to express concern. ‘And what’s the deal with you, man?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Dude, you don’t look too good…’
‘I’m fine,’ I said pre-emptively.
‘You’ve got these dark circles under your eyes. And that heavy stubble – that ain’t doing much for you, man, I can tell ya that.’
I ran a hand over my chin. ‘I just forgot to shave.’
‘Yeah, like for a month. What’s the matter widdya man? You look like ya got something inside a’ya.’
‘Of course I’ve got something inside of me,’ I retorted. ‘We all do. Don’t you know that bacteria are a big part of your body weight?’
He gave a screech of laughter. ‘Yeah, that’s it! You’ve been taken over by bacteria. Isn’t there a word for it? What do they call it? Poss— something.’
‘You mean “possession”?’
‘Yeah, that’s it.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I snapped. ‘Possession is when someone is taken over by a demon.’
‘“De” what?’
‘Demon.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s nothing. Just a metaphor for greed. An imaginary thing.’
‘Y’think greed’s imaginary?’ He chuckled. ‘Hey Pops, I got news for you: greed’s real, it’s big. You got greed, I got greed, we all got greed. You want to sell more books. I want more phones, more headphones, more everything. Fuck man, it’s not parasites we got inside of us, it’s greed! If that’s what a demon is then there’s no way it’s imaginary. Shit no! We’re all demons.’
I decided to play along.
‘You may be right, Tipu, but you know what? That’s really bad news, because according to Hindu mythology, when demons take over is when the world ends. There’s something called pralaya that happens – everything dissolves, even time. But it could happen in other ways too. The Zoroastrians say rivers of molten metal will flow over the earth. The Christians say death, disease, famine and war will bring the Apocalypse. The Incas thought it would start with earthquakes; Muslims say the oceans will burst forth and the dead will turn in their graves…’
‘Hey! Pops!’
Glancing at the screen I was surprised to see an expression of genuine fear on his face.
‘Stop! You’re scaring me.’
‘Well, you started it,’ I said. ‘Where are you anyway?’
‘I’m in…’
I noticed now that there was a white sheet hanging behind him. I couldn’t tell whether he was indoors or outdoors.
His grin broke out again. ‘I’m in Bangalore.’
‘Bangalore? What’re you doing there?’
‘Working for a call centre.’
‘Really? I thought you hated call centres.’
‘Yeah, but sometimes you gotta take what you can get. And these call centres sure love my American accent.’
‘That makes sense.’
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘that’s not why I called.’
‘Why did you call then?’
‘Just wanted to ask you something.’
‘Yes?’
‘You’ve got a friend in Venice, right?’
I caught my breath.
‘How do you know?’ And then it dawned on me. ‘Tipu, have you hacked my computer? Or my phone?’
He gave a squeal of laughter.
‘Maybe I just hacked your head, Pops! If I’d hacked your computer I wouldn’t need to ask.’ He grinned. ‘So tell me – it’s true, right? You have this friend in Venice?’
‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘Have ya heard from her recently?’
‘No, but I’m going to see her next month, in Los Angeles.’
‘Good. Don’t let anything scare you off.’
This mystified me. ‘What could scare me off? I’m looking forward to seeing her.’
‘Yeah, well, shit happens. Like that day when I got bitten.’
‘That was in the Sundarbans, Tipu. I’m going to LA. There aren’t any snakes there.’
‘Yeah? You sure?’
‘Of course there aren’t. Don’t be silly. I’m not going to get bitten in LA.’
‘That’s too bad though – a snake bite might be just what you need.’
‘Tipu, what the hell are you talking about?’
‘Never mind. Anyway, when you see your friend, be sure to listen to her carefully.’
‘Why? What’re you getting at?’
‘Just that she’s a good person. You need to listen to her carefully Pops.’
‘How do you know whether she’s a good person or not?’
‘She’s been good to you, right? And some day you’re going to have to return the favour.’
‘What favour? I don’t understand. How did you even know about my friend?’
He laughed. ‘Maybe someone whispered something in my ear. Maybe I’ve got a secret pal who knows your friend very, very well and wants to be sure that you don’t chicken out of your meeting in LA.’
‘Of course I’m not going to chicken out of seeing her. That’s why I’m going to LA.’
‘Yeah, but something might happen that’ll get you all freaked out.’
‘Like what?’
He giggled. ‘Maybe you’ll see a snake or somethin’ on the way.’
‘Tipu,’ I said patiently, ‘I’m going to LA in a plane, business class if you must know.’
‘Great – I’m happy for ya, Pops! But hey, you never know – shit happens. Anyways, don’t get freaked out and skip meeting your friend.’
‘I have no intention of skipping anything.’
‘Good. You need to do this. And you know what? You need to go through with this for your own sake too.’
‘Why?’
He winked. ‘Don’t you want to get rid of that bacteria or whatever that’s got into your head?’
‘Tipu, I can’t make any sense of this.’
Raising a hand he flicked his fingers across the screen. ‘Gotta go. Take care.’
Then my screen went blank.
Wildfires
The prospect of seeing Cinta was the one thing that had sustained me through this strange twilit time. It was she who had arranged for me to come to Los Angeles: a museum was hosting a conference, to celebrate its acquisition of a very valuable seventeenth-century edition of The Merchant of Venice, and Cinta was to deliver the concluding address. A number of rare book dealers had been invited and she had prevailed on the hosts to include me in the list.
It happened, moreover, that the museum in question was a famously wealthy institution so we were to be hosted in great style, and were being flown out business class. This became yet another reason to look forward to the trip – and such was my state of mind at that time, that for several weeks I thought of little else.
Long before it came time to catch my flight I made sure to reserve a window seat for myself. On the day of journey, when I boarded the aircraft, I was aware, for the first time in many months, of a pleasurable sense of anticipation. My seat, with its console of buttons and its elaborate entertainment system, was all that I could have asked for; I settled in contentedly, intending to make the most of the next seven hours. But just as I was about to try out the noise-cancelling headset, I caught the sound of an excited conversation across the aisle: an elegantly dressed blonde woman and a sun-tanned man in a business suit were loudly exchanging words like ‘fire’ and ‘evacuation’.
I thought, at first, that they were talking about a film (they looked like Hollywood people). But then, as others joined in, it became clear that they were concerned about some sort of emergency that was currently unfolding in Los Angeles.
I had not kept up with the news that week. Now, looking at my smartphone, I learnt that massive wildfires had been raging around Los Angeles for several days. Thousands of acres of land had been incinerated and tens of thousands of people had been moved to safety.
Startled by the news I rose inadvertently to my feet. My intention was to ask the stewardess whether our flight was likely to be delayed – but no sooner had I stirred than two uniformed members of the crew came barrelling down the aisle to tell me, very brusquely, that I couldn’t get up, the FASTEN SEAT BELT sign was on, and the plane was about to start taxiing.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I was wondering whether there’s any danger—’
Before I could say ‘of a delay’, I was cut off.
‘Sir! You need to lower your voice … And you need to fasten your seat belt.’
‘But I just saw this…’ I held up my phone to show her a news item about the wildfires. In the process my forefinger inadvertently touched an icon on the screen and suddenly an eerie, keening sound burst out of the overhead luggage bin, filling the whole cabin and turning every head in my direction.
Being well aware of the complications of flying in these times, I knew exactly how unwise it was for someone of my appearance to draw attention to himself. I always exerted myself to avoid doing so – but now here I was, the cynosure of all eyes.
Such was my state of mind that I did not immediately recognize the so
und that was pouring out of the luggage bin as one of my favourite pieces of music, a passage from Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s ‘Allah Hoo’. Although I loved this recording dearly, no sound could have been more unwelcome to my ears at that moment, especially when I saw its effect on the people around me.
An eternity went by before I realized that I had accidentally turned on a music sharing app that was linked to my portable Bluetooth speaker (which I had snatched up at the last minute and stuffed into my hand luggage). Instead of tapping my phone, to turn off the app, I panicked and leapt up to reach for the luggage bin – and the stewardess in turn leapt to intercept me. There followed a short scuffle. It ended with me collapsing on my seat while the stewardess stood in the aisle, hands on hips, glowering at me.
‘Sir, if you don’t calm down immediately you will be removed from this aircraft.’
‘I’m sorry … I’m sorry … I’m sorry…’
In the meantime, ‘Allah Hoo’ was still blasting from my Bluetooth speaker. Only now did it occur to me to turn the app off, and even this took a while because my hands were shaking uncontrollably.
As my gaze rose, trembling, from my phone, it encountered ranks of faces staring at me with expressions that ranged from bewilderment to terror.
I shrank into my seat, mumbling abjectly: ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…’
* * *
I managed to get through the next few hours without incident and it was not until the plane began its descent that I remembered the wildfires. It was the captain’s pre-landing announcement that reminded me of them: our flightpath had changed, he said, because the wildfires had shifted direction; passengers on the left side of the plane might even be able to see some smoke as we were coming in to land.
It was my good luck (or so I thought at the time) to be seated on the left side of the plane. Leaning forward, I scanned the horizon with my nose against the window.
It wasn’t long before dark smudges appeared in the distance. They quickly grew into dense masses of smoke. Then leaping waves of flame came into view too, lining the horizon with flickering tints of yellow and orange.
Even more striking was the landscape that lay beneath our flightpath – a charred, smouldering stretch of forested hillside that had already been laid waste by the fires. The plane was now flying low enough that I could see a great mass of blackened tree trunks rising out of a vast field of ash. I noticed also that many birds were circling over the ashes of the burnt-out forest – this astonished me because the destruction was so complete that it was difficult to think that any living thing would be drawn to this incinerated landscape.