Description: The Hungry Tide takes place in the Sundarbans, a vast and ever-changing

mangrove forest formed where the Ganges, Brahmaputra and Irrawaddy rivers empty into the
Bay of Bengal....
NoveList Book Discussion Guide
NoveList/EBSCO Publishing 2007
The Hungry Tide
by
Amitav Ghosh
(Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2005)
Author:
Amitav Ghosh was born in Calcutta in 1956. The son of an army officer who later went into the
civil service, Ghosh moved frequently as a child, living in Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, and Delhi. In
1976, he graduated from St. Stephen's College, Delhi, where he studied history. After graduation,
he got a job with The Indian Express newspaper in New Delhi, beginning his career as a writer.
Working as a journalist during a time of civil unrest proved educational.
Working for the Indian Express taught me a lot. It was during the Emergency, and it was perhaps
the only newspaper that was anti-establishment. There was very tight censorship because of the
Emergency and you had to find ways around that, so it was very exciting. When you do that kind
of close up journalism in India it shows a lot of what society is like. You get to see massive
corruption and all the bad stuff very close up. But I soon realized that in the long run, journalism
in India and racking 1000 words at the end of each day was not what I was looking for.
(http://www.kavitachhibber.com/amitavghosh.html)
Ghosh soon left journalism to pursue a graduate degree in anthropology at Oxford. As part of his
degree he took part in field work in North Africa, at the end of which he hitchhiked from
Morocco through the Sahara. These experiences later found their way into his novel, The Circle
of Reason.
Ghosh has gone on to write several more novels, including The Circle of Reason, The Shadow
Lines, In An Antique Land, Dancing in Cambodia, The Calcutta Chromosome, The Glass Palace,
and most recently The Hungry Tide. His work has received international recognition, including
the Prix Medici Etranger, one of France's top literary awards, the 1997 Arthur C. Clarke Award,
the 2001 Grand Prize for Fiction at the Frankfurt International e-book awards, and the Sahitya
Akademi Award, India's most prestigious literary prize. The Glass Palace was nominated for the
Commonwealth Writer's Prize, but Ghosh withdrew the novel for political reasons. Additionally,
Ghosh was awarded the 1999 Pushcart Prize, a leading literary award, for an essay that was
published in the Kenyon Review. A visiting professor at Harvard University, Ghosh currently

lives with his wife, Deborah Baker, and their children in Brooklyn, New York, and Calcutta,
India.
Summary:
The Hungry Tide takes place in the Sundarbans, a vast and ever-changing mangrove forest
formed where the Ganges, Brahmaputra and Irrawaddy rivers empty into the Bay of Bengal. Due
to the confluence of the river and the sea, the tide reaches inland for miles every day, reshaping
the islands and the channels between them perpetually. The story begins when Kanai, a wealthy
translator and businessman, comes to the Sundarbans to visit his aunt and examine a journal,
written by his now-dead uncle and recently rediscovered. While on the train to the islands he
encounters Piya, an American scientist of Indian descent. She is a cetologist a specialist in
marine mammals who has come to the islands to observe the rare Irrawaddy dolphin, a
creature capable of living in both fresh and salt water. Kanai engages her in conversation on the
train, and invites Piya to visit him at his aunt's house in the town of Lusibari during her stay in
the islands. Piya responds politely, but has no real intention of taking him up on the offer. The
two part ways when the train reaches its destination.
When Piya reaches the Sundarbans, she begins the tedious process of getting the official
approval she needs to conduct her research. The local wildlife officials arrange for a boat and
force her to accept the presence of several official observers. While searching the area, they
encounter a local fisherman, a man named Fokir, who claims to have seen the dolphins Piya is
looking for. When she attempts to ask for more information, she accidentally falls into the water.
Disoriented, she nearly drowns, until Fokir dives in and rescues her. Disgusted with her official
entourage, she dismisses them, and remains on Fokir's boat with him and his son, Tutul. Despite
their lack of a common language, Fokir and Piya work well together. He takes her to a cove
frequented by the dolphins, where she can observe their behavior while he fishes. They spend a
few days engaged in their respective pursuits, before returning to Lusibari. There, Piya tracks
down Kanai at his aunt's house.
Since arriving at his aunt's, Kanai has been reading his uncle's journal. The journal, written
toward the end of the older man's life, recounts the violent conflict between the government and
a group of thousands of refugees on the Sundarban's nature preserve in the 1970s. When Piya
arrives, she learns that Fokir and his wife are friends of Kunai's family. Piya explains her
research ambitions, and Kunai arranges for more people and an additional boat to help her and
Fokir when they go back out. Jealous of Piya's friendship with Fokir, Kunai volunteers to go
along and serve as a translator. The expedition initially goes well, until the boats become
separated when Fokir and Piya take his smaller boat out to search some of the smaller channels.
Unfortunately, while they are gone the other boat receives word that a large storm is bearing
down on the Sundarbans. Kunai and others wait as long as they can, but eventually they are
forced to leave Fokir and Piya behind. Fokir attempts to return to port, but the storm catches
them and they are forced to take shelter in the mangroves. Piya survives the storm, but Fokir is
killed by flying debris. After the storm passes, Piya manages to get the boat back to Lusibari,
where she tells Fokir's wife and family about his fate. Piya leaves the Sundarbans after Fokir's
cremation to stay with relatives in Calcutta. She returns a month later, having raised money to

support Fokir's family, and to establish a research foundation to study the Irrawaddy dolphin. She
decides to name the foundation after Fokir, since his data were so crucial to the project.
Questions:
While answers are provided, there is no presumption that you have been given the last word.
Readers bring their own personalities to the books that they are examining. What is obvious and
compelling to one reader may be invisible to the next. The questions that have been selected
provide one reasonable access to the text; the answers are intended to give you examples of what
a reflective reader might think. The variety of possible answers is one of the reasons we find
book discussions such a rewarding activity.
Language and communication are major themes throughout the novel. How are they
presented?
In many ways, The Hungry Tide is an exploration of the role of language in human interaction.
Piya's lack of the Bangla language serves to set her apart from the locals in the Sundarbans.
Being of Indian descent, her appearance is not out of the ordinary. This comes out during her
interactions with Kanai's family
Piya sketched a wave with her free hand: "Hello."
Nilima answered with a smile and a few words of Bengali. This drew a rueful response from
Piya. "I'm sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Of course," said Nilima. "I'm the one who should apologize. I always forget. It's your
appearance that gets me mixed up I keep having to remind myself not to speak to you in
Bangla." (p. 207)
Piya's language marks her firmly as an American, something Kanai notices when they first meet.
Her father spoke only English to her, in order to assure that she would adapt to their new country
(p. 207).
Piya's encounter with Fokir is also shaped by their lack of a common language. Unable to use
speech to communicate, they rely on gestures and a remarkable empathy for each other. While
doing their separate work on Fokir's boat, they find that even without language, they understand
each other and cooperate perfectly.
It was surprising enough that their jobs had not proved to be utterly incompatible. . . . But that it
proved possible for two such different people to pursue their own ends simultaneously people
who could not exchange a word and had no idea of what was going on in one another's heads
was far more than surprising: it seemed almost miraculous. Nor was she the only one to remark
on this: once, when her glance happened accidentally to cross Fokir's, she saw something in his
expression that told her that he too was amazed by this seamless intertwining of their pleasures
and their purposes. (p. 118)

This level of understanding, without and even transcending language is remarkable. In the
context of the novel it becomes more interesting when compared to Piya's description of her
parent's relationship.
"They spoke Bengali to each other," said Piya with a laugh. "But that was when they were
speaking, of course. When they weren't, I was their sole means of communication. And I always
made them translate their messages into English or else, I wouldn't carry them." (p. 207)
The sad fact is that Piya's parents, despite having a common language, are unable or unwilling
really to communicate or understand each other. Ghosh's point is clear: understanding and
communication are often more dependant on the intentions and feelings of the people involved
than they are on the language used.
What roles do women have in the society depicted in the novel?
The role of women in The Hungry Tide is complicated. The novel portrays women as being
heavily sexualized by the men around them. After Piya's accident, she encounters this treatment
firsthand, from the official guards that accompany her on the hired boat.
She could scarcely believe that she had succeeded in ridding herself of them. She had expected
more scenes and more yelling, fresh demands for money. On cue, as if to show her that she had
not gotten off lightly, the guard held up her Walkman he had managed to extricate it from her
belongings before handing them over. Then, to celebrate his theft, he began making lurid
gestures, pumping his pelvis and milking his finger with his fist. (p. 50)
Ghosh pairs the sexual obscenities with the theft of Piya's belongs to suggest that this kind of
thuggery belongs with some of the lowest forms of human behavior. Sadly, these attitudes are not
limited to the lower classes. Even Kanai, upper-class and well educated, possess some of these
attitudes. When he meets Piya, we learn something about his attitudes toward women.
Kanai liked to think that he had the true connoisseur's ability to both praise and appraise women,
and he was intrigued by the way she held herself, by the unaccustomed delineation of her stance.
(p. 3)
The phrase "praise and appraise" suggest that Kanai evaluates women the same way one might
livestock or used cars. Ghosh expands on this attitude later on. Kanai's initial interest in Piya
stems from the disastrous end of his most recent affair.
Two weeks earlier she had stormed out of his house and forbidden him ever to call her again. He
hadn't taken this seriously until he tried to call her cell phone, only to find that she had given it to
her driver. This had come as a considerable blow to his pride, and in the aftermath he had tried to
plunge himself into a short affair of the kind that might serve to suture the wound suffered by his
vanity: that his to say, he sought . . .a liaison in which it would fall to him to decide both the
beginning and the end. . . . If Piya decided to avail herself of his invitation, then there was no
reason not to savor whatever pleasures might be on offer. (p. 14)

Kanai fails to take Piya's feelings into consideration as he pursues an affair, strictly to gratify his
own ego. While their relationship develops into something more meaningful over the course of
the novel, initially he views her in a sexual light.
Although women in the novel are often sexualized and objectified by the men around them, they
also occupy positions of leadership, frequently working for the good of the community. The best
example is Kanai's aunt Mashima, whom he describes in glowing terms.
"If you go to the hospital and ask for Mashima," said Kanai, "everyone will know who you
mean. My aunt founded it you see, and she heads the organization that runs it, the Badabon Trust.
She's a real personage on the island everyone calls her Mashima, even though her real name is
Nilima Bose. (p. 12)
The word Mashima means aunt in Bangla, and signifies the almost familial role that she plays in
the life of her community. Fokir's wife Moyna has a similar role, struggling to support herself
and her family. Kanai reveals this during a discussion with Piya.
"Just think of the life she's led," said Kanai. "She's struggled to educate herself against heavy
odds. Now she's well on her way to becoming a nurse. She knows what she wants for herself
and her family and nothing is going to keep her from pursuing it. She's ambitious, she's tough,
and she's going to go a long way." (p. 163)
The Hungry Tide offers a view of the complex role women play in this society. While on the one
hand they are objectified and sexualized, they are also venerated for the role they play in their
families and the community at large.
In what ways does the idea of history appear in the novel?
The Sundarban Islands are a unique place, and the villages there have a unique history. Ghosh
portrays the islands as a place that confuses and erases history. When Kanai visited the islands as
a boy, his uncle Nirmal explained their story to him. Though the modern settlements have their
roots in the early twentieth century, there were people living on the island in the distant past. The
man who created the modern settlements, Sir Daniel Hamilton, noticed this when he first
encountered the islands.
'?Why does no one live here? Why are these islands empty of people? Why is this valuable soil
allowed to lie fallow?' A crewman sees him peering into the forest and points out the ruin of an
old temple and a mosque. See, he says, people lived here once, but they were driven away by the
tempests and tides, tigers and crocodiles. (p. 43)
Sir Daniel uses his own fortune to create new settlements in the islands. In doing so, he ignores
the history of the place, which has already swallowed at least one civilization. It is important to
note that Ghosh never gives the name of the people who inhabited the islands in antiquity.
Nirmal explains this as well.

It is common knowledge that almost every island in the tide country has been inhabited at some
time or other. But to look at them you would never know: the specialty of mangroves is that they
do not merely recolonize land; they erase time. Every generation creates its own population of
ghosts. (p. 43)
While this may at first seem foreboding, it complements the kind of society Sir Daniel is trying
to create in the Sundarbans. He ignores Indian history, bringing in settlers from all over the
subcontinent.
Everyone who was willing to work was welcome, S'Daniel said, but on one condition. They
could not bring all their petty little divisions and differences. Here there would be no Brahmins
or Untouchables, no Bengalis and no Oriyas. Everyone would live and work together. (p. 44)
The history of Lusibari and the other settlements created by Sir Daniel flows along the same
lines as the natural history of the islands. The tide strips away history, leaving the potential for
new creation in its wake. This parallel points out the close connection between human and
natural history.
Is religion present in the novel? How and when is it depicted?
Religion is present throughout the novel, because the spiritual beliefs of the people in the
Sundarbans center on the mangrove forests themselves. Bon Bibi, a goddess of the forests, is
their deity. The people appeal to her for protection from the many dangers that surround them.
Piya first encounters her when Fokir shows her a shrine, hidden deep in the trees.
On approaching closer she saw that it was not a shack at all, but a leaf-thatched altar or shrine: it
reminded her distantly of her mother's puja table, except that the images inside didn't represent
any of the Hindu gods she was familiar with. There was a large-eyed female figure in a sari and
beside it a slightly smaller figure of man. Crouching between them was a tiger, recognizable
because of its stripes. (pp. 126-127)
The inclusion of a tiger is a direct reaction to the environment that surrounds them. Tiger attacks
are common in the islands, the creatures striking at night with no warning. The locals are so
afraid of them that it is taboo to even say the word "tiger". It is easy to see how such a creature
might become equated with the supernatural.
Just as the shrine is unique, so is the method of worship. Piya notices this when she observes the
ceremony Fokir performs at the shrine.
First they fetched some leaves and flowers and placed them in front of the images. Then,
standing before the shrine, Fokir began to recite some kind of chant, with his head bowed and his
hands joined in an attitude of prayer. After she listened for a few minutes, Piya recognized a
refrain that was repeated again and again it contained a word that sounded like "Allah". She
had not thought to speculate about Fokir's religion, but it occurred to her now that he might be
Muslim. But no sooner had she thought this than it struck her that a Muslim was hardly likely to

pray to an image like this one. What Fokir was performing looked very much like her mother's
Hindu pujas and yet the words seemed to suggest otherwise. (p. 127)
The worship of Bon Bibi blends Hindu and Muslim belief into a unique local religion. This
underscores two central themes of the novel. The islands are a unique natural environment,
shaped by unique circumstances. It is understandable that the people who live there would see
the wilderness around them as a unique and divine presence, often misunderstood by outsiders.
Even Kanai has difficulty comprehending the mysteries of the forest (pp. 260-272). The mixing
of different religious elements reflects the people who inhabit the islands. Drawn from all over
India, the diverse founding population created a unique community, with its own values and
beliefs. This of course is reflected in their religion.
What is the significance of the social conflicts?
Throughout the novel, Ghosh suggests that tension exists between different social classes in
Indian society, and that upper-class connections are sometimes necessary. Piya notices this when
she has to deal with the local officials to get permission to conduct her research.
As it turns out, her experience was not quite as grim as she had anticipated. It did indeed take a
full hour of waiting before she could even make her way past the first doorkeeper, but once she
was inside her progress was unexpectedly swift. Thanks to her uncle's influence, she was led
almost immediately into the presence of a harried but obliging senior ranger. (p. 26-27)
Piya's use of her connections to smooth the way is typical of how things are done. While such
connections are useful, they are not all-powerful. When her official escort becomes dismissive
and overbearing, Piya finds herself at a disadvantage.
Would these men have adopted the same attitude if she had been, say, a white European or
Japanese? She doubted it. Nor for that matter would they have dared to behave similarly with her
Kolkata cousins, who wielded the insignia of their upper-middle-class upbringing like laserguided weaponry. They would have known how to deploy armaments against men like these and
they would have called it "putting them in their place." (p. 30-31)
This passage suggests that Piya receives rude treatment from her guards because she herself does
not "wield" the prestige that her upper-class cousins might. It also raises the issue of race. As an
ethnic Indian, Piya's status is diminished in the eyes of her official entourage.
During their stay in the Sundarbans, Piya and Kanai both deal with people who are poorer and of
lower social class. While Fokir and Piya get along quite well, his wife Moyna is suspicious of
Piya's motives, wondering why a "highly educated scientist" would want the help of "someone
who doesn't even know how to read and write." (p 176). While Kanai is polite, his attitude
toward Fokir is revealed through his language.
"So tell me then, Fokir, do you ever feel like visiting a city?"
It was only after he had spoken that he realized he had inadvertently addressed Fokir as tui, as
though he were indeed a child. But Fokir seemed not to notice. (p. 263)

English lacks formal modes of address, so it is difficult to understand the extent of this faux pas.
By using the informal tui form, instead of the more polite apni, Kanai is inadvertently expressing
a patronizing and almost dismissive attitude toward Fokir. Kanai thinks highly of himself, his
wealth and his education. It is not hard to imagine that this attitude is the source of his treatment
of Fokir.
These tensions are significant because they reflect other aspects of the plot, especially the siege
of Morichjhapi. It was easy for the Indian government and their western patrons to overlook the
needs of the lower class and poor. Ghosh introduces class tension and modern social divides into
the novel to remind us that these issues are still active today.
What is Fokir's role in the novel?
Fokir first appears in the novel as Piya's guide to the mangrove forests. As the plot develops,
Fokir serves to connect the other characters to the natural and spiritual worlds that surround
them. Fokir introduces Piya to Bon Bibi, the goddess of the forest (p. 127). Fokir is fond of
singing. Piya later finds out what his songs really mean.
Kanai turned away from her to say a few words to Fokir, and suddenly, to Piya's surprise, Fokir
begin to sing, or rather to chant, in a quick rhythm.
"What's he saying?" Piya said to Kanai. "Can you translate?"
"I'm sorry, Piya," Kanai said. "But this is beyond my power. He's chanting a part of the Bon Bibi
legend and the meter is too complicated. I can't do it." (p. 255)
Fokir's songs and religious devotions serve to remind both the other characters and the reader of
the spiritual aspect of life on the islands. In reciting the stories of Bon Bibi, Fokir also serves as a
connection to the mythic past.
Fokir's song is not the only thing about him that stumps Kanai. When the two are in the forest
together (pp. 260-273), Kanai has a hard time comprehending Fokir's instinctive understanding
of the place. When Fokir points out markings that he claims are tiger tracks, Kanai is skeptical.
Fokir's response illustrates the difference between them.
Kanai pointed to the shore and made a gesture of dismissal. "Those are just burrows," he said,
smiling, "I saw crabs digging into them. What makes you think they have anything to do with the
big cat?"
. . . Leaning over, Fokir took hold of Kanai's hand and placed it on the back of his neck. The
unexpected intimacy of the contact sent a shock through Kanai's arm and he snatched it back
but not before he felt the goosebumps bristling on the moist surface of Fokir's skin.
Fokir smiled at him again. "That's how I know," he said. "It's the fear that tells me." (p. 265)
Fokir connects with the forest on an emotional and spiritual level, saying things like ". . . this
was a place where you had to learn not to be afraid. And if you did you might find the answer to
your troubles" (p. 266). Where Fokir moves effortlessly within the forest, Kanai finds himself
tripping and falling into the mud (p. 268-269). Though Kanai is better educated, Fokir's innate
understanding and wisdom are much more useful in the forest.

How does the novel show the complexities and ambiguities of environmental concerns?
Tension between environmental concerns and human needs fills the novel. Ghosh includes these
issues to point out the human costs of environmentalism. As Kanai reads his uncle's journal, he
learns about the events that unfolded in 1979, when the government brutally removed squatters
from Morichjhapi in order to preserve a wildlife sanctuary. A standoff ensued between the
squatters and the troops sent to remove them. The effect on the people was devastating, with
hunger and illness engulfing the community (p. 215). One of the refugees expressed her dismay
at the cause of all this suffering.
Saar, she said, wiping her face, the worst part was not the hunger or the thirst. It was to sit
here, helpless, and listen to the policemen making their announcements, hearing them say that
our lives, our existence, were worth less than dirt or dust. This island has to be saved for its
trees, it has to be saved for its animals, it is part of a reserve forest, it belongs to a project to
save tigers, which is paid for by people from all around the world. . . . Who are these people I
wondered, who love animals so much that they are willing to kill us for them? Do they not know
what is being done in their name? (p. 216-217)
The charitable souls probably do not know what is being done "in their name". It must have been
frightening and incomprehensible to the settlers on Morichjhapi that they were being uprooted
from their homes in order to protect tigers, of which they lived in mortal dread.
A more personal and graphic example occurs during Piya's second boat expedition. A tiger has
been caught in a livestock pen, and the villagers quickly move to dispose of it, trapping and
blinding the animal and eventually setting it on fire. Piya is shocked and appalled at the brutal
violence the villagers display toward the animal. Even Fokir joins the mob. When Piya,
motivated by her humanitarian instinct and environmentalist ideals, attempts to intervene she is
met with hostility.
For a moment the man was too surprised to respond. Then he began to shout at the top of his
voice, shaking his fist in Piya's face . . . then she saw a knot of flame arcing over the crowd and
falling on the thatch: almost at once, branches of flame sprouted from the roof of the pen. There
was another roar, and this was matched by the voices of the crowd, screaming in a kind of
maddened blood lust, "Maar! Maar!". The flames leapt up and the people began to stoke them
with sticks and straw. (p. 243)
When Kanai and Piya discuss the incident later, he explains their role in the event, how they are
"complicit" in the ongoing tiger attacks in the Sundarbans.
"Because it was people like you," said Kanai, who made a push to protect wildlife here, without
regard for the human costs. And I'm complicit because people like me Indians of my class,
that is have chosen to hide these costs, basically in order to curry favor with their Western
patrons. It's not hard to ignore the people who are dying after all they are the poorest of the
poor. (p. 249)

There is no easy resolution to the issues that Ghosh raises in the novel. However his point is
clear: environmental policies carry a human cost in the Third World that must be taken into
account.