The enigmatic muse.
I do not know about the kids in Bengal who are traversing through the daisy fields of childhood in this day and age, but almost all kids who traversed the same fields during the late 1990s and the early 2000s had two heroes. The first one was the erstwhile captain of the Indian men’s cricket team, Sourav Ganguly. The second was a towering figure named Prodosh.C. Mitter (Feluda), who emerged from the pages of a termite-ridden book and urged the kids to embrace mystery. The latter, through his adventures, not only entertained but also imparted lessons in history to his cousin, Topesh, all while unraveling perplexing crimes. For my impressionable prepubescent mind, he was the epitome of fascination. Like many others in Bengal, my love affair with mystery deepened further when I encountered Raja Roychowdhury (Kakababu) on the pages overlooking the happening streets of childhood, meticulously crafted by Sunil Gangopadhyay. Despite being a retired officer of the Archaeological Survey of India, Raja’s spirit soared above his physical limitations, aided by crutches, as he embarked on globe-trotting escapades to solve mysteries. If Feluda sparked my initial fascination with mystery, Kakababu solidified the bond, sealing the marriage between me and the enigmatic world of detective fiction.
Bengal boasts an unparalleled affinity for mystery, evident in the plethora of detective characters it has given birth to. Bengalis often boast that no other language has produced as many detective characters as theirs. While some claims made by Bengalis may seem exaggerated to my adult mind, this one holds true to the core. Bengalis also claim that their feet are coated by mustard oil (loose translation of a Bengali saying) which means that their feet are slippery hinting at the affinity that Bengalis have for travelling. This also isn’t an exaggeration because no matter where you go to in India, you’ll find a Bengali tourist (how much they explore the places they travel to is a different question). As a child, when tourists in Bengal were prompted to choose their favourite landscape among oceans, hills/mountains, and forests, my unequivocal vote would always go to the hilly landscapes. While oceans possess a certain majestic quality, apart from a few specific moments (such as the sunrise on the eastern coast of India or the sunset on the western coast of India), I often found them rather monotonous. Hills, on the other hand, held a captivating unpredictability that always appealed to me. You never knew what lay beyond each hairpin loop, or how the day might unfold, even under the bright morning sun. Forests were an unknown, unexplored entity to me during my childhood and adolescent years. Later, of course, I realized that I have indeed interacted with forests while visiting the green hills of the eastern Himalayas, but to my immature mind, the cognizance of this fact was absent. My first official interaction with forests happened in 2017 through our college excursion to the dry-deciduous forests of the Tadoba National Park in Maharashtra. Here is where this aspiring bohemian writer of this blog found his ever-enigmatic muse. I will narrate a short incident to showcase how.
Our excursion itinerary included three jeep safaris into the heart of the national park. Each jeep would carry eight characters. The characters were the driver of the jeep, the commissioner of the force (the forest guide), a senior detective (the college professor), and five trainee detectives (students). Some of us were armed with tools to shoot (camera) the members of the mafia (the animals). The Vito Corleone, the Godfather of this mafia was the Panthera tigris tigris, the Bengal tiger. Setting off early in the morning, the sun seemed to have overslept, barely peeking from behind the cloud curtains as we entered the forest. Minutes into the forest, we heard a potential victim scream (a sambar deer) from a distance as if he was trying to alert the force. Our jeep navigated the forest trails, the towering teak trees casting curious glances upon us. Every rustle of leaves under our jeep’s wheels seemed to alert the Godfather, altering his path. Our quest continued for another twenty minutes and then almost suddenly, nothingness dawned upon us. We realized that we have been outsmarted by the Godfather. He had escaped. No sooner than our realization, that from the east, another wail by the sambar deer was heard. The criminal always gives a second chance. Another wail followed. The commissioner, like a seasoned sleuth, could sense the presence of the Godfather. We kept following the direction of the wail until our jeep did not have any space to turn. We upgraded ourselves from being trainee detectives to trainee snipers. We waited with bated breath for any movement, any minuscule sound that would sell us the location of the Godfather. With binoculars in hand, the commissioner directed our attention to the northeast, his instinct honed by years of experience. Trusting his judgment, we aimed our equipment in that direction. Meanwhile, the senior detective pondered whether the missing piece of the puzzle lay elsewhere, a common mistake in the pursuit of truth. Oftentimes, we fail to perceive what lay in front of us, and attempt at solving the puzzle by looking for the pieces elsewhere. As I gazed ahead, there he stood — the Godfather — towering in his magnificence, adorned in a golden robe with black stripes, caught drinking from a waterhole. The senior detective seized the opportunity and took two shots at the Godfather. My inexperienced hands trembled as I managed only one feeble shot before the majestic beast turned to glare at us, mocking our incompetence, before disappearing back into the forest, leaving us humbled by Nature’s favoured child.
Since that moment in the forest, I’ve searched for a single word to encapsulate what I felt that day. Time and again, I failed until I realized that love defies simple explanation. We are shaped by our childhood experiences — I fell in love with mystery stories as a child and later, with a landscape that embodies a mystery as an adult. Today, my heart unequivocally belongs to the forest landscape. On this day, 21st March, every year, we celebrate the International Day of Forests. The theme for this year is “Forests and Innovation: New Solutions for a Better World.” In a way, I work within this domain, and as I had tried to explain in my first blog on this website, I try to use computer codes to understand various aspects of forest dynamics in a constantly changing world. Technology has made rapid progress over the last few years, and rightfully, it has found its employment in forest research. One can use satellite images to track a forest fire, map an invasive species, map the functional efficiency of a forest, one can use computer codes and mathematics to picture what the forest would look under various climate change scenarios, and the list goes on and on. Recognizing the vital role of technology in forest research is justified, and it is imperative that we harness its potential for positive impact.
My admiration for the advancements in forest research technology remains unceasing, yet I often find myself reflecting on a line penned by Ezra Pound in his book “ABC of Reading”: ‘Music rots when it gets too far from the dance. Poetry atrophies when it gets too far from music.’ Allow me to return to my college excursion. Prior to our final expedition into the forest, one of our professors addressed the students with profound wisdom: “Some of you will see the tiger. Some of you won’t. There are endless roads in the forest, and for those who won’t encounter the tiger, close your eyes on one such road and envision the tiger crossing it. Carry that image with you back home.” Seven years have passed since she uttered those words on a sultry spring evening, yet they continue to haunt me. This notion imbues the forest with a nebulous, profound attribute — a soul. The study of a forest risks atrophy when it strays too far from its soul.
While we rightfully celebrate the technological achievements in the field of forest research, let us never forget to keep its soul intact.
Happy International Day of Forests!
