Rain and Sun on Baikka

A wonderful feeling

Photo: Moyukh Mahtab

The sky is a clear blue when we get on the little wooden boats. The whole of Baikka has become a giant mirror, reflecting the afternoon sun right at our eyes. Heat waves radiate off the water, making everyone drowsy. It seems like a bad decision to be out on an open boat under the sun, and the unbroken surface of the dark, cool water looks more inviting by the minute. But mossy tendrils of weeds lurk in the depth, posing an annoying barrier to swimmers. Disturbed by our boat’s motion, sometimes a tiny green frog or fish jumps out from the water and lands on a lily leaf.
In the distance, we can see fishing boats moored to the banks, weather beaten old men waiting by their nets, and grey smoke bellowing from the stern. The fishermen’s lunch is boiling in a pot. Our boat pulls up to the fishermen and they show us their catch — tiny pomfrets, tengra, puti and a few stray crabs are all. Soon, the fish are scaled, cut and rinsed with salt, then judiciously covered with turmeric, chilli powder and the venerable naga morich. Our boatman pulls out a gasoline stove from somewhere to set up lunch — plump grains of musty-smelling rice with fish.
Soon it’s 3 o’clock, and the empty sky gets laden with signs of an afternoon shower. A cloudburst follows, cloaking the haor in grey, sending the still waters haywire. We gobble down the mouth-numbingly hot lunch, tossing away the occasional snail that got cooked in with the fish while the boat rocks precariously.
The day’s unbearable heat eases, replaced by a wet, cool breeze, and before we knew it the sun had sunk on overcast Baikka, hidden behind clouds. We missed sunset that day. But sunset on Baikka is a riot. The setting sun glows golden on the back of foraging egrets and throws oblong shadows of lily trotters along the reeds. A glorious dusk spills over the horizon, and all shades of orange seep into the waters of the haor. Adding to the din of the sunset, flocks of cormorants streak the sky in perfect V-s, croaking throatily.
The boat passes through a part of hail haor where a thousand lilies are just coming to bloom. They stretch on for as far as the eyes can see. Farther away, the fishing boats light their lanterns for the night’s catch. A hush that only comes as impending darkness falls over Baikka, and we make our way back to the village guided by glowing fireflies, feeling inexplicably sad.
Anashua dreams up adventurous getaways while she sits in a corner of her room, playing Pacman and eating gummy bears.

*** ALL THE BEST***