Skip to main content

The Hungry Tide



“You live in a dream world – a haze of poetry and fuzzy ideas about revolution.  To build something is not the same thing as dreaming of it: building is always a matter of well-chosen compromises.” 

One of the themes of Amitav Ghosh’s novel, The Hungry Tide, is the futility of effete idealism and the inevitable need for compromises.   Nirmal Bose is the effete idealist to whom his wife, Nilima, speaks the above words.   A brief detention by the police for participating in the 1948 conference of Socialist International unsettled Nirmal so much that he could not continue his job as English lecturer in a Calcutta college anymore.  His physical condition deteriorated so much that his doctors advised a life outside the city.  The couple chose Sunderbans where Nirmal took up job as the headmaster of a school in Lusibari, one of the islands.  Nilima founded a Trust which built up a hospital for the people of the islands.

Romantic dreamers like Nirmal will never be happy in life unless they see in reality the utopia of their dreams.  They fail to realise that utopia is an impossible ideal, that there is no reality on the earth which is not a mixture of good and evil.  The fate of such people is to cling to their illusion and die in despair.

Nilima is diametrically opposed to Nirmal, though she had fallen in love with him because of his revolutionary ideas.  She soon understands the futility of utopian ideologies.  Hers is a simple vision: do something that is real and useful to the people around.  There is no need of any ideology for that.  Simple humanity is enough.  Compromises are also inevitable, she knows.  “... you have no idea,” she admonishes her husband, “how hard we’ve had to work to stay on the right side of the government.  If the politicians turn against us, we’re finished.  I can’t take that chance.” 


Nirmal, an ardent fan of Rilke’s poetry, thinks that people like Nilima live a prose-life, while he lives poetry.  Poetry is about dreams.  Revolution is the materialisation of a dream.  

In 1979, a chance for a revolution turns up again when one of the islands is taken over by refugees and the government wants to evacuate them since the island is a reserved forest.  Kusum, one of the leaders of the movement, becomes Nirmal’s new “muse”, much as he is attached to his wife.  “I felt myself torn between my wife and the woman who had become the muse I’d never had;” says Nirmal, “between the quiet persistence of everyday change and the heady excitement of revolution – between prose and poetry.”

This new revolution costs Nirmal his life.  He dies for a cause that he perceived as noble.  Nilima lives on for a cause which she perceives as practical and more useful.

Piyali Roy, a young research scholar doing a survey of the dolphins in the waters of Sunderbans, is the protagonist of the novel.  She successfully combines prose and poetry in her vision of life.  She works in such a way that the wildlife is preserved and the ecology is well taken care of, but without compromising the welfare of the people living in the place.

Fokir, the other chief character, lives the poetry of mythology.  If he had more gyan (knowledge) than gaan (singing) he would have been successful in life, according to Moyna, his wife.  But Fokir is happy with his songs about the mythical Bon Bibi (the deity of the islands).  In the dolphins he sees the messengers of Bon Bibi.  He is sure that the deity will protect him from all harms.  But his faith does not save him when the area is struck by a cyclone.  His death, however, saves Piyali’s life.  Fokir, the metaphorical poet, also dies for a noble cause.

Kanai and Horen, the other major characters, know how to “get on” in life.  They are practical in their own ways.  They live a purely prose-life.

Which way of living is right?  Prose or poetry or a combination of both?

It’s not about right and wrong, the novel suggests.  It’s about what makes each one of us happy about our existence.  It’s about what adds meaning to our existence.  When Piyali says that for her home is where the dolphins are, Nilima says, “That’s the difference between us.  For me home is wherever I can brew a pot of good tea.”

A cup of good tea can make one’s life as happy as the passion for dolphins makes another.   What a utopian dream does to one may be done to another by the poetry of myths.  It’s better to let people find their own joys, their own meanings in life.


PS. This was originally published in 2014 in this same blog. PS. I’ve brought it here again as part of a series being written for the #BlogchatterA2ZChallenge. The previous parts are:
Tomorrow: Illusions


Comments

  1. I loved it sir. I've not read the book. But it's certainly the next one on my list. I think I've seen heard read this story all through my life...With myself with the people around me and that one line about finding your happiness in a cup of tea or in dolphins is all about it. I'm so glad you shared this book here.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's an excellent work and I'm sure you'll love it.

      Delete
  2. Sir, I'd been reading all your posts. There are many good books I've missed. Thank you for sharing all thoughtful books... it just surprises me there are endless things that still can be learnt from classics..

    ReplyDelete
  3. The idea of life as poetry or prose is so novel. Never ever thought of life that way! If I look back I can see its never only prose or poetry. Its always mix of both. Sometimes the prose having the upper hand and sometimes the poetry.
    Adding this title to my TBR list. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The book has other themes as well. I looked at it from a particular angle.

      Delete
  4. Thank you for sharing this insightful post. Has inspired me to read this book. Very well reviewed.

    ReplyDelete
  5. What a beautiful message. It's about what adds meaning to our existence. How true, our means of enjoyment may differ, but its influence is the same.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's when people insist on imposing their own meanings and truths as the ultimate upon others that the problem begins.

      Delete
  6. Yes, each to his own. For our lives to be meaningful we have to find a way to live that satisfies our souls.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. This theme will come up again in The Moon and Sixpence and Zorba the Greek.

      Delete
  7. The women characters of the novel seem to be more practical and balanced. I think in real life too same may hold good even though it is difficult to generalise and better to find own's own meaning as the novel suggests the end.
    Nice presentation of the theme of the novel without making it s spoiler.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. True, in real life too women tend to be more balanced.

      In this series, I'm not reviewing books but discussing certain themes. So occasionally spoilers may creep in.

      Delete
  8. This one is high on my must-read list. Excellent analysis of the book!
    www.nooranandchawla.com

    ReplyDelete
  9. The thought shared by Nilima is so beautiful and profound. Havent read any book from Amitav Ghosh though I have his The Glass Palace on my Kindle. Will check this one! Thanks for your recommendation!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ghosh is one of the best living Indian English writers. He won't disappoint you.

      Delete
  10. I have read his other book "The sea of Poppies".Havent read this one. I will read this next. I loved his other book too and after reading this post I am sure I will love this one too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You will. I liked this more than The Sea... though that's splendid too.

      Delete
  11. Lovely review! Will surely check out the book. Thank you for writing this informative series.
    #DiaryOfAnInsaneWriter #BlogchatterA2Z

    ReplyDelete
  12. Its an epic book.. My Sunderbans trip was totally motivated by this book.. I looked at it more from the angle of the Nature and lifestyle of the region.. I guess every book offers different things , its what we choose to take away from it.. Great H post!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I too wanted to visit Sunderbans after reading this book. But the trip hasn't materialised yet.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Sanjay and other loyalists

AI-generated illustration Some people, especially those in politics, behave as if they are too great to have any contact with the ordinary folk. And they can get on with whoever comes to power on top irrespective of their ideologies and principles. Sanjay was one such person. He occupied some high places in Sawan school [see previous posts, especially P and Q ] merely because he knew how to play his cards more dexterously than ordinary politicians. Whoever came as principal, Sanjay would be there in the elite circle. He seemed to hold most people in contempt. His respect was reserved for the gentry. I belonged to the margins of Sawan society, in Sanjay’s assessment. So we hardly talked to each other. Looking back, I find it quite ludicrous to realise that Sanjay and I lived on the same campus 24x7 for a decade and a half without ever talking to each other except for official purposes.      Towards the end of our coexistence, Sawan had become a veritable hell. Power supply to the

Thomas the Saint

AI-generated image His full name was Thomas Augustine. He was a Catholic priest. I knew him for a rather short period of my life. When I lived one whole year in the same institution with him, I was just 15 years old. I was a trainee for priesthood and he was many years my senior. We both lived in Don Bosco school and seminary at a place called Tirupattur in Tamil Nadu. He was in charge of a group of boys like me. Thomas had little to do with me directly as I was under the care of another in-charge. But his self-effacing ways and angelic smile drew me to him. He was a living saint all the years I knew him later. When he became a priest and was in charge of a section of a Don Bosco institution in Kochi, I met him again and his ways hadn’t changed an iota. You’d think he was a reincarnation of Jesus if you met him personally. You won’t be able to meet him anymore. He passed away a few years ago. One of the persons whom I won’t ever forget, can’t forget as long as the neurons continu

William and the autumn of life

William and I were together only for one year, but our friendship has grown stronger year after year. The duration of that friendship is going to hit half a century. In the meanwhile both he and I changed many places. William was in Kerala when I was in Shillong. He was in Ireland when I was in Delhi. Now I am in Kerala where William is planning to migrate back. We were both novices of a religious congregation for one year at Kotagiri in Tamil Nadu. He was older than me by a few years and far more mature too. But we shared a cordial rapport which kept us in touch though we went in unexpected directions later. William’s conversations had the same pattern back then and now too. I’d call it Socratic. He questions a lot of things that you say with the intention of getting to the depth of the matter. The last conversation I had with him was when I decided to stop teaching. I mention this as an example of my conversations with William. “You are a good teacher. Why do you want to stop

Uriel the gargoyle-maker

Uriel was a multifaceted personality. He could stab with words, sting like Mike Tyson, and distort reality charmingly with the precision of a gifted cartoonist. He was sedate now and passionate the next moment. He could don the mantle of a carpenter, a plumber, or a mechanic, as situation demanded. He ran a school in Shillong in those days when I was there. That’s how I landed in the magic circle of his friendship. He made me a gargoyle. Gradually. When the refined side of human civilisation shaped magnificent castles and cathedrals, the darker side of the same homo sapiens gave birth to gargoyles. These grotesque shapes were erected on those beautiful works of architecture as if to prove that there is no human genius without a dash of perversion. In many parts of India, some such repulsive shape is placed in a prominent place of great edifices with the intention of warding off evil or, more commonly, the evil eye. I was Uriel’s gargoyle for warding off the evil eye from his sc