A story by Tarek Khan
I’m just learning how to bait the hook of thorn to
suit the fish, and sometimes, tend to get in a sweat about collecting the fish
from the net.
As I’m full free
from the family-responsibility, I can do everything with another boys to the
bank of river, Modhumoti.
This time, one day
in the morning, my younger uncle declared, “It’s better to hunt the birds
instead of fishing.”
All kinsmen got
thunderstruck. They cannot believe it. One asked, “Do you want to leave our
ancestral profession?”
The younger uncle
told clearly that he wouldn’t go to fish anymore.
The kinsmen don’t
have anything to do.
Bird-hunting was
alluring to me too. I have already, sometimes, walked to uncle with bamboo
traps, arrows, nets. Now hooked up with him full time. Father quarrels with
uncle and scolds me that we think meaningless.
Hunting is charming
undoubtedly. But the uncle became disappointed within a few days, on the grounds
of reality, a new profession isn’t easy at first.
So, the kinsmen felt
comfort and giggled of ha-ha, ho-ho.
I’m upset and
younger uncle is worried. He thinks how does Bilu Hunter hunt everyday 15 to 20
birds. In the village of Dighol, a group of hunters hunt the birds in full of
bamboo cages.
And, if you talk
about the birds, take as much as you can, all get sold within an hour in the
market of Bordia River Port or Khulna City. Whereas a basket of fishes takes a
full day long to sell. Some days they get rotten to throw into dustbin.
So, the younger
uncle became strong-willed; determined
to be a hunter.
I joined him in full
of joy and pleasure.
Everyday my uncle
makes four to five traps by bamboo sticks and nylon thread. The number of birds
get increased everyday as the number of traps.
After a few months,
nowadays everyday at least sixteen birds, crane or stork, get trapped into my
uncle’s traps.
It was so alluring!
A group of young kinsmen began to think to join us who opposed at first. Then
in the first winter of our hunting life, on what day we trapped 17 ducks and a
big lesser adjutant in the lake of Ghagha, a big group of kinsmen began to make
trap.
The old kinsmen
attempted to prevent them, but they told to their face directly, “Why do you
bring the ancestral folks again and again? Why don’t you think of the best
options of present?”
Most of the young
kinsmen became bird-hunters in lieu of fishing.
But, what the
Talukdar is telling this? Whether he wants to sell the forest from the bank of
lake. All trees will be logs for townsfolk?
We are
thunderstruck. If the trees are chopped out, where the birds will build their
nests?
This time our
grandfather, our talented leader, assured us, “Hey the bone-headed folks! Why
do you worry about one or two forests like these? Don’t you see the nearby? Is
there any lack of forests?”
“Oh, that’s right!
That’s right!” Anywhere we look at, reach out our eyes to, we find endless
forests, as cold as dark!
“Whatever! Now tell
us, grandfather, what do the townsfolk do with so many trees? We could
understand if it would be one or two or…that would be used for house.”
When it’s a big
forest, we are puzzled.
Grandfather told,
“So, listen to me. I can tell you a tale!”
We know our
grandfather is a master person to make story that’s sometimes wonderful,
amazing; sometimes strange and peculiar.
We enjoy his tales
of king, vizier, prince, princess, fairy, ghost, and find a way of easy
hunting. If there was a mechanism, technique, or something else to catch the
birds easily! If there was a mechanism that could easily make house by cutting
trees.
We dream and hear
his tales. We grow up, become young, and beget year by year. Our homes gone
full of two legs animals. But every day we surprised watching Talukdars’
activities. They build causeways, make roads, prepare brickfields, construct
cement factories.
But what’s our
headache with the dealings of rich lords. We rather pray to God, “Oh the mercy
of God, the glory of grace! Guard our water and garden. Grow our fishes and
birds.”
But the grandfather
says, “What a delirium! Don’t be mad!”
We sometimes
stumbled down by the words of grandfather.
“What do you mean,
grandpa?” We swim through the dust and smoke from Talukdar Industries and wait
to hear the speech of grandpa.
Grandpa says, “In
our age we used to see the stream of water in the river. But you will watch the
flow of folks all through the rivers.”
“Hey, what do you
mean, grandpa? Are you okay?”
Grandpa is silent.
We heard that the
mad says everything as the goat eats all, but we can’t believe that our beloved
grandfather can be such a mad.
Grandpa said, “The
crazy folks eating the forests wolfishly, gulping the rivers, marsh, and…!”
“Hey, what the fucking
are you talking about, grandpa?” I rebuked him harshly. He just smiled, “How
nice you learnt to upbraid! I shall teach you more cusswords!”
We’re so sorry that
our grandpa is half mad. But we have nothing to do. We just watch the
Talukdars’ activities. The young Talukdars build schools, colleges. Their
children become learned, practice aesthetics. And, we the ghostlike two legs
animals trap the birds and fish for Talukdars; make them rod, cement, and
bricks.
But, what the
grandson of a Talukdar is talking about. We knew he had gone to a university to
be learned. Coming back after a decade now he is angry looking at the sky!
Lacking of birds made him angry.
My grandson came
running and reported me, “You’re called to the porch of two storied building of
Talukdar. If you like to save your life, go fast!”
I ran for Talukdar
Home.
“The birds are holy
creatures! They are so beautiful in the sky!” said Bird Talukdar, a grandson of
a senior Talukdar.
We feel like to die
on shame hearing his lecture. But we don’t stop hunting.
So, Bird Talukdar
demanded a law to check the birds. A group of law makers sat in a meeting in
the drawing room of Talukdar Home.
“As the land isn’t
growing, population should not grow up!” argued Balance Talukdar. “You can’t
save the birds by law. We rather need a birth control law and a strong public
awareness propaganda policy. The nature conservation law is feigned, a bogus
thought.”
But the king said,
“What the people enjoy? They enjoy giving birth. How can I hold them back? I
can’t.”
The king scolded the law makers, “We were so many brothers and sisters! What was
the problem? I don’t see any problem, okay?”
The king signed the
Bird Protection Law.
“So, what are we
going to eat now?”
“What’s lacking of
food, huh? Hybrid Pumpkin, African catfish, farming chickens! What a lot of
food in the Farms of Talukdars!”
Yeah! That’s okay!
Talukdar’s grandsons building many new farms every day.
“But I don’t care
the this law!” my grandson got dogged. “I have no desire to work in the fish
farm of rotten water; or in another dirty farm; I don’t like the dusty
brickfield, cement factory, or any…!”
I must support him.
Though there is no
bird in the most of the area in the country, still there is a lot in Sundarban.
And in the winter season we can’t cope with the temptation of millions of
birds.
The cute nets from
the Talukdar Factories make us greedy more. We set the nets at night and in the
morning we see 40 to 50 birds crying, come on soon! Take us to the market!
Ah, what a peace!
What a progress in the world! In our young age we couldn’t catch 20 birds all
day long.
But, what this
magistrate, Badshah Talukder, is saying?
“Though you have
grown old, yet you don’t have any respect to the law! What a shame! How can you
kill the holy birds! It’s terrible!”
The police
handcuffed me and tied my waist with a rope. They took me along the road to
Bordia Bazar.
My niddle-noddle
head bent over my chest.
“Now confess, ‘I
have committed crime knowingly and knowledgeably’,” told Badshah Talukder,
judge of the mobile court. He required a confession.
A group of various
ages folks watching the trial.
My old knees
slightly bent; slowly bent from the waist. Everybody looking at my face.
Waiting to hear the verdict.
Now if I confess,
the judge can send me to the jail. Already one of my brothers sent; many
nephews, grandsons and kinsmen too.
Many hunters are
hanging in the regular cases because they didn’t confess. They’re costing their blood, sweat and tears; running to the urban court; there
is a lot of hurdles to the fees of Talukdar lawyers.
The judge repeated
his speech, “Would you please confess?”
Original in Bengali.
Translated by Writer, August 2016.
—The End—