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Exploring Women’s Representation in the 1960s: A Feminist Analysis of ‘Mad Men’

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The Criterion: An International Journal in English Vol. 15, Issue-I, February 2024 ISSN: 0976-8165
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https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10448030
From (Post)colonial Crisis to Cosmopolitan Hope: Bridging the
Human and Non-human Dichotomy in Amitav Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide
Dr. Garima Jain
Associate Professor of English,
M.S.J. Govt. PG College,
Bharatpur (Rajasthan).
Article History: Submitted-28/01/2024, Revised-22/02/2024, Accepted-23/02/2024, Published-29/02/2024.
Abstract:
Evoking the aftermath of the deadly 2004 Tsunami in the Indian Ocean that devastated
the entire area, the narrative of the novel The Hungry Tide by Amitav Ghosh takes place
primarily in the Sundarbans, a massive mangrove forest that is split between West Bengal in
India and Bangladesh. Containing tigers, crocodiles, and various other predators, it serves as a
dramatic backdrop for Ghosh’s story of the environment, faith, class structure and the complex
history of India in terms of colonialism and sectarian conflict. This paper seeks to read the
novel along the idea of cosmopolitanism as well as eco-cosmopolitanism finding the co-
relation between colonial and postcolonial, human and non-human, death and resurrection and,
crisis and hope.
Keywords: cosmopolitanism, ecocriticism, environmental studies, postcolonial.
Abbreviation: THT – The Hungry Tide
Amitav Ghosh’s novel, The Hungry Tide, weaves a captivating narrative around three
central characters: Piya, Kanai, and Fokir. Alongwith their stories, the novel also delves into
the parallel tale of an earlier generation’s trio: Horen, Nirmal, and Kusum. Ghosh masterfully
depicts the unique and unpredictable ecosystem of the tide country, an inhospitable place where
nature and animals pose constant threats to human survival. One notable character, Sir Daniel
Hamilton, a Scotsman, embodies the ethos of hard work he learned in school, “labor conquers
everything” (THT 49). He comes to India in pursuit of a better fortune and, through his
diligence, rises to become the head of a shipping company, amassing great wealth. While
passing through Calcutta en route to Bengal, he is entranced by the mangrove-covered islands
and contemplates the possibility of people living there once again. Driven by a cosmopolitan
vision, he acquires ten thousand acres of the tide country from the British government. His idea
067
https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10794739

From (Post)colonial Crisis to Cosmopolitan Hope: Bridging the Human and Non-human Dichotomy in Amitav
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is all-inclusive, where people of diverse backgrounds, regardless of caste, creed, or financial
status, are welcomed on his land. His vision is one of unity, as Ghosh writes, “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 have to live and work together”
(THT 51).
People who were genuinely dispossessed and found nowhere else to go flocked to this
place from northern Orissa, eastern Bengal, and the Santhal Parganas. Survival in the tide
country, with its ever-present threat of tigers and crocodiles and shifting tides, was not easy.
Still, they were drawn to Sir Daniel’s dream, a vision to “build a new society, a new kind of
country, run by cooperatives, where people wouldn’t exploit each other, and everyone would
have a share in the land” (THT 52). Sir Daniel provided amenities such as electricity, telephone
services, and even a unique currency. His banknotes represented a cosmopolitan idea, stating,
“The note is based on the living man, not on the dead coin. It costs practically nothing and
yields a dividend of One Hundred Percent in land reclaimed, tanks excavated, houses built,
etc., and in a more healthy and abundant life” (THT 53).
Following Sir Daniel’s death in 1939, his nephew James Hamilton inherited the estate
but lacked his uncle’s dreams and vision. Nirmal and Nilima, compelled by circumstances,
sought refuge in Lusibari, as Nirmal’s leftist ideals put his life at risk in Kolkata. Lusibari,
unexpectedly, became their permanent home. Nilima engaged in meaningful social work aimed
at uplifting the native population in Lusibari, while Nirmal nurtured his poetic aspirations and
revolutionary ideals.
Eco-Cosmopolitanism Explored in the Novel:
The central theme in Amitav Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide revolves around the intricate
relationship between nature and humanity. Ghosh intricately portrays the captivating and
delicate ecosystem of the Sundarbans, frequently referred to as “the tide country” in the novel.
The book’s release created a global sensation among ecologists, with Ghosh’s vivid depiction
of a tsunami-like storm seen as “a warning – a premonition” to the world (Walia).
The narrative of this ecology-dominated novel showcases characters grappling with the
challenge of harmonizing the forces of nature and humanity’s yearning for survival, thus giving
rise to what the esteemed critic and scholar Ursula Heise terms “Eco-cosmopolitanism.” To
simplify, it can be described as a fusion of ‘ecocriticism’ and ‘cosmopolitanism.’ While primarily
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an Anglo-American concept, this fusion of ecocritical and postcolonial scholarship has
broadened its scope globally. Ecocriticism serves as the umbrella term for the study of
environmentally oriented literature. Scholars like Buell, Heise, and Thornber argue that it
begins with the belief that imaginative arts, such as literature, can significantly contribute to
understanding contemporary environmental issues, including various forms of ecological
degradation afflicting the planet today (Buell, Lawrence, et al. 418). Ursula Heise advocates
for a more cosmopolitan and less U.S.-centric approach to ecocriticism, introducing the term
‘eco-cosmopolitanism.’ This concept diverges from conventional topophilic sentiments, which
are “affectionate ties to a specific environment or a deep connection to a particular place” (Tuan
113). While it is natural and widespread for individuals to form bonds with the places they
inhabit, Heise contends that ecocritics may have overemphasized the importance of this
connection in developing ecological knowledge and sensitivity.
In the postcolonial era, as various theories of globalization emerge, there is a growing
need to establish connections with societies around the world. This shift has given rise to
concepts like multiculturalism and ‘deterritorialization.’ In her groundbreaking work “Sense of
Place and Sense of Planet: The Environmental Imagination of The Global” (2008), Heise
emphasizes that focusing on a specific place alone is not the most effective way to cultivate a
comprehensive understanding of the planet as a whole. In a world shaped by the forces of
economic and cultural globalization, ecocriticism must evolve to become more cosmopolitan,
acknowledging and embracing alternative, less place-centric methods of gaining ecological
knowledge and sensitivity. Eco-cosmopolitanism blends environmental awareness with
postcolonial psychology, supporting a broader understanding of biospheric interconnectedness.
Unlike traditional cosmopolitanism, eco-cosmopolitanism is not confined by the limitations of
human social experience. Instead, it
…………reaches towards what some environmental writers and philosophers have
called the ‘more-than-human world’ –the realm of non-human species, but also that of
connectedness with both animate and inanimate networks of influence and exchange.
(Heise 87-88).
Alexa Weik succinctly summarizes that eco-cosmopolitanism derives its qualities of
open-mindedness, inclusivity, and the promotion of human solidarity transcending national,
class, race, and religious boundaries from traditional cosmopolitanism. Simultaneously, it
draws its interest in connectivity that extends beyond the human realm, encompassing the
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environment and animal life from ecocriticism (123). This form of eco-cosmopolitanism, as
articulated by Heise and embraced by Ghosh in his novel The Hungry Tide, recognizes the
profound interdependence between the human and non-human worlds. Notably, scholars like
Rob Nixon and Graham Huggan criticize the limited environmental consciousness among
postcolonial scholars and advocate for a fresh amalgamation of postcolonial and ecocritical
approaches. Amitav Ghosh’s non-fiction work, The Great Derangement: Climate Change and
the Unthinkable, highlights writers’ apathy toward climate change and ecological crises in their
narratives. Ghosh is worried at the fact of the scarcity of literary works addressing global
ecological problems in contemporary times (9). It is essential to acknowledge that ecological
issues and their associated disasters are not confined to national boundaries but are experienced
globally, garnering international attention. To effectively address the worldwide challenge of
natural crises like global warming, Heise’s concept of eco-cosmopolitanism offers a valuable
solution, promoting unity among nations to confront the impending ecological crisis. It
emphasizes the convergence of local and global perspectives and the fusion of experiential and
abstract scientific knowledge. The Hungry Tide beautifully weaves together themes of
ecological crisis, local and global politics, and the interactions between humans and animals,
underscoring the importance of eco-cosmopolitan ideas.
The Hungry Tide seamlessly blends the local and the global, as we witness the
convergence of two distinct worlds. Piya, a semi-nomadic American cetologist of Indian origin,
and Kanai, a business-minded translator from Delhi, venture to Lusibari, an island in the
Sundarbans in the Bay of Bengal. Meanwhile, residents like Nilima, Nirmal, Fokir, Moyna,
and others call Lusibari their permanent home, creating a fascinating interplay between these
two groups of outsiders and hosts. Despite their apparent disparities in concerns, knowledge,
and ways of life, these two groups effortlessly meld together, forming a remarkable and unusual
fusion of local and global influences. Notably, the collaboration between Piya and Fokir stands
out as a prime example of this synergy. Piya, a scientist, embarks on research related to Orcaella
brevirostis, a species of river dolphin, in the Sundarbans. While her roots lie in Bengal, she
predominantly communicates in English. In contrast, Fokir is a local fisherman with no English
proficiency, yet possesses a deep understanding of the ecological intricacies of the tide country
and the nuances of river navigation.
Kanai’s blunt observation that “he is a fisherman, and you’re a scientist” showcase their
seemingly incongruent backgrounds (THT 268). Nonetheless, Piya and Fokir prove to be a
dynamic duo, uniting Fokir’s grounded, place-based ecological knowledge with Piya’s
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cosmopolitan and well-traveled perspective. This amalgamation results in remarkable
achievements, showcasing their ability to communicate effectively despite language barriers.
Piya successfully conveys her mission of studying river dolphins, while Fokir offers invaluable
guidance on their whereabouts. Sitting in Fokir’s boat, he with his coil of crab-catching line
and Piya clutching her GPS device, she reflects:
It was surprising enough that their jobs had not proved to be utterly incompatible–
especially considering that one of the tasks required the input of geostationary satellites
while the other depended on bits of shark-bone and broken tile. But that it had proved
possible for two such different people to pursue their own ends simultaneously – people
who could not exchange a word with each other and had no idea of what was going on
in one another’s heads – was far more than surprising: it seemed almost miraculous.
(THT 141)
As the story unfolds, Piya gradually develops a profound connection with Fokir. To the
extent that she finds solace, confidence, and an invigorated spirit in his presence. This deep
bond is rooted in their shared passion for and expertise in dolphins, the intricacies of
waterways, and their profound appreciation for nature.
The novel presents Piya as a ‘migrant cosmopolitan’. As a second-generation
immigrant in the United States, her life is marked by continuous displacement, primarily due
to her research work as a cetologist specializing in marine mammals. This nomadic lifestyle
has left Piya without a true sense of home, a place to call her own. Piya succinctly describes
her existence when speaking to Kanai: “I have no home, no money, no prospects. My friends
are thousands of miles away, and I get to see them maybe once a year, if I’m lucky” (THT 302).
However, the events she experiences, especially Fokir’s tragic death caused by a fierce storm,
awaken a profound sense of responsibility and concern in Piya. This newfound connection
extends not only to Fokir’s family but also to the entire region. It comes as no surprise when
Piya decides to remain in Lusibari for an extended period to continue her research. In doing so,
she discovers a sense of belonging in the Sundarbans and, with both good humor and sincerity,
expresses to Nilima toward the novel’s conclusion: “for me, home is where the Orcaella are”
(THT 400).
Broadly speaking, within the novel, Fokir and Piya can be viewed as symbols
representing the topophile and the cosmopolitan, respectively. The central theme of the story
revolves around the interconnectedness of these two-character types. This interconnectedness
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serves as a solution to the fundamental issue of disconnection between the state government
and local concerns. The local government, regrettably, often neglects the “place-based needs
of its own citizens and vulnerable ecosystems” (Weik 125).
It’s worth noting that none of the main protagonists in “The Hungry Tide” were
originally from the tide country. They all fit the category of ‘postcolonial migration.’ Nilima
and Nirmal fled to the Sundarbans to escape religious fundamentalists in Kolkata, while even
Fokir, despite finding a sense of home there, is not a native. Kusum gave birth to Fokir
somewhere near Dhanbad in Madhya Pradesh. Pablo Mukherjee describes this situation as a
world characterized by “mobility, migrancy, uprootedness, (150)” and this mobility extends to
the land itself. The very territory upon which the characters gather and traverse is constantly
changing due to the unique ecological system of the tide country forming in respect to rising
sea levels and continuous tides. Here existing islands are submerged in water and new islands
get formed every day.
In his work The Great Derangement: Climate Change and Beyond, Ghosh
painstakingly illustrates the potential future challenges humanity may face due to climate
change and global warming. He also highlights the difficulty of convincingly portraying such
catastrophic incidents in fictional works. The Hungry Tide effectively conveys the sensitivity
of regions like the Sundarbans to the significant rise in sea levels over the past two decades.
Ghosh strongly suggests in The Great Derangement that cities like Kolkata, New York, and
Bangkok are at constant risk of being submerged by water. The novel offers a vivid portrayal
of the catastrophic tsunami that struck Southeast Asia on December 25, 2004, resulting from
an earthquake and claiming more than two lakh lives in fourteen countries, particularly
Indonesia, Sri Lanka, India, and Thailand.
In the wake of the aforementioned tsunami in 2005, television broadcasts displayed
horrifying images of islands engulfed by surging walls of water and desperate individuals
fighting for their lives. These natural calamities emphasized the urgent need for special
protection and relief efforts in vulnerable areas. Ghosh, who visited the tsunami-affected island
of Car Nicobar, highlighted in his work Incendiary Circumstances (2005) how the failure of
the administration in Car Nicobar and other affected regions to provide proper relief to the
victims resulted from what he termed a “leak of democracy and popular empowerment (10)”.
Drawing inspiration from Amartya Sen’s research on famines, Ghosh exposed the inadequacies
in our democratic structures concerning preparedness and response to natural disasters. He
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pointed out the political apathy towards the victims, emphasizing that there were no elected
representatives advocating for these marginalized people (Incendiary Circumstances 11).
In The Hungry Tide, the hypocrisy of political leadership becomes glaringly evident
through flashbacks and accounts of Morichjhapi as recorded in Nirmal’s notebook. It becomes
apparent that the shelters for the island inhabitants were established not by the government but
through the vision of Nirmal, a disillusioned cosmopolitan who played a key role in
constructing a shelter on the top floor of the hospital run by Nilima’s Badabon trust in Lusibari.
Nirmal’s leftist ideals had led him to leave Kolkata in 1950, and he, along with Nilima, sought
refuge in Lusibari, where he served as the headmaster of the Lusibari school. Despite burying
his revolutionary dreams deep within, Nirmal’s encounter with Kusum, who arrived in the
Sundarbans from somewhere in Madhya Pradesh with her five-year-old son Fokir after
becoming widowed, rekindled his aspirations. Through Kusum, Nirmal learned about the
events at Morichjhapi, which he documented in his notebook, to be discovered by Kanai two
decades later. Morichjhapi, like Lusibari, was a tide country island and became a haven for
thousands of impoverished and landless Bangladeshi refugees displaced by partition. The
government had resettled these refugees in Dandakaranya, deep forests in Madhya Pradesh.
However, the resettlement proved to be more like a prison to them due to the rocky soil,
unfamiliar environment, and language barriers that made them feel alienated. Additionally, they
faced mistreatment from the local population and security forces. In 1978, a group of these
refugees managed to break free from the government settlement camp and set out for
Morichjhapi in the Sundarbans. At that time, West Bengal was under the governance of the Left
Front, and the refugees expected support from this government since the Left Front had
endorsed their cause when they were in opposition two years earlier. However, the authorities
took an opposite stance and declared Morichjhapi a protected forest reserve, showing no mercy
to the settlers or refugees. This situation led to a series of confrontations between the settlers
and the government forces (THT 118-119). The final and tragic clash occurred in mid-May of
1979, a dark chapter now remembered as the Morichjhapi massacre, during which several
individuals lost their lives. This tragic event can be traced back to two fundamental issues.
First, from the perspective of the settlers, their only desire was to acquire a small piece of land
on which to live. However, their voices went unheard, or rather were deliberately suppressed
because, as Ghosh explained, “In Bangladesh, they had been among the poorest of rural people,
oppressed and exploited both by Muslim communalists and by Hindus of the upper castes”
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(THT 118). These impoverished and marginalized people, who were often from the dalit
community, held no significance in the eyes of the authorities.
Second, the international Project Tiger, aimed at the conservation of the Royal Bengal
Tiger, generated significant monetary resources and global concern. Faced with pressure, the
authorities chose the more expedient but inhumane path: they did not advocate for these poor
and oppressed settlers but instead resorted to brutal violence. Once again, the underlying cause
of these tragic events lay in the disconnection and discord between local and global interests.
The government declared the settlers’ presence illegal, citing concerns that this influx of people
could be detrimental to the fragile ecosystem of the Sundarbans. The settlers’ occupation of
Morichjhapi was viewed as a violation of the Forest Acts, as it is part of the Sundarbans
Government Reserve Forest, as noted by Mallick (107). Nilima, in her conversation with
Nirmal, also supported the government’s policy, stating that if people continued to arrive in this
manner, “the whole forest would disappear” (THT 213). In response, Nirmal presented the true
situation and countered her argument:
Morichjhapi wasn’t really forest, even before the settlers came. Part of it were already
being used by the government, for plantation and so on. What’s been said about the
danger to the environment is just a sham, in order to evict these people, who have
nowhere else to go. (THT 214)
The entire situation presents an unimaginably complex dilemma. On one hand, a deep
ecological consciousness promotes the preservation of nature and the safeguarding of the Royal
Bengal Tiger from extinction. Simultaneously, it cannot be denied that hundreds of human lives
fall victim to these predators in the Sundarbans forests every year. Nilima informs Kanai that
4218 men were killed by tigers between 1860 and 1866, as documented by J. Fayrer, the
English naturalist who coined the phrase ‘Royal Bengal Tiger’ (THT 240). Over the years, the
preservation of this endangered species has consistently taken precedence over the protection
of the local population, not solely due to the availability of international funds for the former
but notably because of the operation of a false dichotomy. The marginalized remain just that—
marginalized. Alexa Weik aptly points out, “Their needs remain on the margins of the equation,
and so discussion does not revolve around how to balance the various needs of the ecosystem”
(132).
According to the only authentic source of information about the Morichjhapi massacre,
Ross Mallick, in his article, on January 26, 1979, the West Bengal government initiated an
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economic blockade of Morichjhapi. He reports that the settlers were not only prevented from
obtaining essential supplies, including fresh water, but also that “the community was tear-
gassed, huts were razed, and fisheries and tube-wells were destroyed, in an attempt to deprive
refugees of food and water” (THT 108) However, when this news reached Kolkata newspapers,
citizens’ groups filed petitions, and “the high court ruled that barricading the settlers was
illegal” (THT 260). Nonetheless, the police continued to patrol the island. Finally, on May 14,
1979, the state government ordered the forceful evacuation of the residing refugees, resulting
in the deaths of several hundred people, with their bodies being disposed of in the Ganges.
Following the massacre, the Left Front government maintained that the eviction had been an
ecological necessity. What becomes evident here is the cynicism and detachment of policy-
making from both ecological contexts and the people who inhabit them. The plight of the
impoverished settlers of Morichjhapi is powerfully conveyed in one of the novel’s most intense
passages, evoking a deep sense of empathy and concern. When stopped by the police from
leaving the island, a group of settlers on a simple rowing boat cry out in unison, “‘Amrakara?
Bastuara.’ Who are we? We are the dispossessed,” (THT 254) a slogan that deeply unsettles
Nirmal.
This vividly captures the spirit of (eco)-cosmopolitanism as it connects the settlers,
Nirmal himself, and all of humankind. Through Nirmal, Ghosh appears to express his own
views that the dispossessed settlers are not isolated entities on the planet; instead, they are
interconnected with all other human beings worldwide. Notably, as Pablo Mukherjee also
highlights, Nirmal’s understanding of the refugees’ plight undergoes a transformation through
his direct engagement with the local people. Initially, he failed to comprehend the political and
ideological betrayal of refugees by the government, unable to consider various other factors
that shaped the power dynamics in this specific context, such as the high caste/class
composition of the ‘Marxist’ government, the international politics surrounding the refugee
crisis in Bengal, and the conflict between local landed and landless rural ‘vote-banks’
(Mukherjee 152).
In this regard, we can draw a parallel between Nirmal’s and Piya’s experiences. Nirmal
only corrects his political views after engaging with the local realities of Morichjhapi, and
similarly, Piya develops a profound solidarity with the place Lusibari and its impoverished
inhabitants after her confrontation with the storm at Garjontola.
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The profoundly challenging tiger-human dichotomy in the Sundarbans is poignantly
reflected in the conversation between Piya and Kanai when Piya is horrified by the sight of a
tiger being killed by villagers, including Fokir. To comfort her with his arguments, Kanai
asserts, “Isn’t that a horror too – that we can feel the suffering of an animal, but not of human
beings?” (THT 300) However, these killings, whether of animals or humans, are shown to be
unjustifiable, as Piya rightly argues that nothing in the universe grants us the authority to take
the lives of others. She posits that if we were to cross the imaginary line that allows us to decide
that no other species matters except ourselves, the consequences would be dire. Piya questions
whether such a mindset would stop at animals, emphasizing that it would eventually extend to
human beings, particularly those who are poor and unnoticed.
Piya’s suggestion is that this ruthless killing of others, whether human or animal, is a
consequence of emotional and intellectual disconnectedness. This disconnectedness is
strikingly illustrated by the mass killings during the Morichjhapi massacre, which claimed the
lives of many hundreds of victims, including Nirmal and Kusum. Alexa Weik appropriately
concludes that this inhumanity towards “others,” encompassing both humans and animals,
results from a lack of connection with both fellow humans and the natural environment. Weik
emphasizes that eco-cosmopolitanism advocates the opposite stance, underscoring the
interconnectedness and inherent value of all human beings, irrespective of their racial and
cultural distinctions (Weik 135). It also stresses the connection between humans and their
natural environment. Reading The Hungry Tide from an eco-cosmopolitan perspective, we gain
an understanding that environmental justice necessitates a balance between the needs of both
humans and non-human entities. This concept contributes to the broader idea of
cosmopolitanism, encompassing human and environmental sustainability. It can help foster “a
different idea of the universal,” one that embraces and accommodates differences rather than
rejecting them, as highlighted by Mukherjee (151).
The Hungry Tide beautifully portrays the accommodation of differences on various
levels, including religion and faith. Nirmal, as expressed in his notebook, had distanced himself
from religious devotion, viewing it as a byproduct of ‘false consciousness.’ His experiences
during the partition and his role as a schoolmaster led him to eschew religious beliefs.
However, Nirmal’s perspective undergoes a transformation when he attends a Bon Bibi
puja, a religious ceremony dedicated to the local deities Bon Bibi and Shah Jangoli, considered
protectors of the tide country. During the puja, he is astonished to hear Horen recite Arabic
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invocations, even though the rhythm and atmosphere of the chanting resemble that of a
traditional Hindu puja. The verses recited are a mix of Bengali, Arabic, and Persian. Nirmal
also discovers that a book about Bon Bibi, “Bon Bibir Karamoti,” opens from right to left, akin
to Arabic texts, rather than from left to right as in Bengali. This religious and cultural
syncretism in the tide country reflects cosmopolitan ideals that embrace and make room for
differences. This merging of differences results in something truly wonderful, as exemplified
by “Bon Bibir Karamoti.” It illustrates that accommodating different religions, cultures, and
languages is an intrinsic characteristic of the tide country. The narrative eloquently describes
the linguistic diversity of the region, where rivers of language flow, including Bengali, English,
Arabic, Hindi, Arakanese, and more. The faith of the tide country is akin to a great roundabout
where people from various directions, countries, and faiths can come together, showcasing the
region’s ability to foster unity among diverse elements.
Piya, Kanai and Nirmal: their cosmopolitan transformation:
In The Hungry Tide, two cosmopolitans emerge as central characters: Piya and Kanai,
representing different facets of cosmopolitanism. Piya hails from the urban first world, while
Kanai comes from the urban third world. Both of them are foreign to the unique ecology and
way of life in the tide country. Cosmopolitanism, in this context, refers to having a broad or
global outlook, as opposed to a parochial or narrow perspective.
The novel showcases the spirit of cosmopolitanism through dialogues and interactions
between the locals, such as Horen, Fokir, Moyna, and Kusum, and the cosmopolitans, including
Piya, Nirmal, and Kanai. These interactions lead to transformative changes in both the locals
and the cosmopolitans. For Nirmal, his views and ideology gain clarity through the grim
realities he encounters at Morichjhapi and his interactions with Kusum and Horen. This
experience connects him with the fate of humanity as a whole, making him more aware of the
plight of the poor and marginalized settlers of Morichjhapi. Kanai undergoes a transformative
experience when he is stranded on Garjontola by the fisherman Fokir. Initially, Kanai exudes
an air of superiority due to his belief in his worldly knowledge and affairs. He possesses an
intimidating aura that reflects his bourgeois authority. However, his experience on Garjontola
changes his perspective significantly. He transitions from being self-centered to acknowledging
the presence of “others.” Piya, as an American representing the first world cosmopolitan,
initially benefits from her foreignness, which offers her some protection from unwarranted
behavior. However, her journey to the Sundarbans challenges her sense of security, as she
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encounters mistreatment from the local guard and boatman. Her sense of safety and well-being
is primarily established through her interactions with Fokir, who saves her life on multiple
occasions. Piya’s work aligns well with Fokir, who possesses intimate knowledge of the
Gangetic waterways and the habitats of river dolphins. Her research is progressing smoothly
until the devastating storm claims Fokir’s life while he attempts to save Piya. This tragedy
shatters Piya, leaving her feeling responsible for Fokir’s death. After some time spent with her
relatives in Kolkata, Piya regains her hope and determination for the future. She reveals her
plans to Nilima, expressing her intent to undertake a significant research project on the river
dolphins of the Sundarbans. Her goal is to bridge her global knowledge with local expertise
and provide employment and financial support to the local fishermen. She intends to name the
project after Fokir to honor his remarkable knowledge of the region’s waterways. Additionally,
Piya has already raised substantial funds to purchase a house for Fokir’s wife, Moyna, and
provide college education for their son, Tutul.
Kanai, too, is inspired to restructure his company by establishing an office in Kolkata.
He plans to write a story based on Nirmal’s notebook, which, although lost in the storm, remains
etched in his memory. These transformations in Piya and Kanai demonstrate the impact of
postcolonial cosmopolitanism, emphasizing the need and ability to connect global knowledge
with local concerns. This cosmopolitan consciousness seeks to bridge gaps and create
meaningful connections between different worlds and perspectives.
Hope for the better:
The Hungry Tide makes a compelling case that in the world we live, “the global
positioning and the imbrications derived from it” matter more than ever before both on the
level of action, word and meaning (Moraru 180). Ursula Heise contends to the same,
“Advocacies of the local can play a useful political and cultural role in one context and become
a philosophical as well as pragmatic stumbling block in another” (59). The novel demonstrates
that both actions and words are influenced by the global context, reinforcing the idea that global
issues matter more than ever before. As the global and the local become increasingly
interconnected, it’s crucial to understand the complex dynamics at play. The Hungry Tide
exemplifies how environmentally oriented cosmopolitanism, or what can be termed “world
environmental citizenship,” plays a vital role in addressing global environmental concerns.
This perspective encourages us to engage with the global imagination of the environment,
exploring its boundaries and limitations at the local and national levels. The efforts of
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characters like Piya and Kanai in the novel offer hope for the present and future. Their success
lies in their ability to bridge the local and national with the international and global. Piya’s
fundraising for Moyna and Tutul becomes possible because she shares the story of the
Sundarbans’ waterways and the resulting tragedies with people worldwide through the internet.
The funds are drawn from international sources, emphasizing the interconnectedness of global
communities. Likewise, Kanai’s intention to share the story of the Morichjhapi massacre and
raise awareness about the sensitive ecology and politics of the tide country suggests the
potential for more sensible policies. By bridging the local with global perspectives and vice
versa, there is hope for addressing the needs of the local population and preserving the
ecosystem of the tide country within the context of global configurations. The novel highlights
the importance of global environmental citizenship and the role it can play in finding solutions
to complex global issues.
Works Cited:
Buell, Lawrence, et al. “Literature and Environment.” The Annual Reviews of Environment and
Resources, no. 36, 2011, pp. 417-440. Accessed on environ.annualreviews.org.
Ghosh, Amitav. The Great Derangement: Climate Change and the Unthinkable. E-book,
Penguin, 2016.
Ghosh, Amitav. Incendiary Circumstances: A Chronicle of the Turmoil of Our Times. Houghton
Mifflin, 2005.
Ghosh, Amitav. The Hungry Tide. Harper Collins, 2004.
Heise, Ursula K. Sense of Place and Sense of Planet: The Environmental Imagination of the
Global. Oxford University Press, 2008.
Huggan, Graham. “Greening Postcolonialism: Ecocritical Perspectives.” MFS Modern Fiction
Studies, vol. 50, no. 3, 2004, pp. 701-733.
Mallick, Ross. “Refugee Resettlement in Forest Reserves: West Bengal Policy Reversal and
the Marichjhapi Massacre.” The Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 58, no. 1, 1999, pp. 104-125.
Moraru, Christian. “Review of Sense of Place and Sense of Planet: The Environmental
Imagination of the Global, by Ursula K. Heise.” The Comparatist, vol. 34, 2010, pp. 179-184.
Mukherjee, Pablo. “Surfing the Second Waves: Amitav Ghosh’s Tide Country.” New
Formations, no. 59, 2006, pp. 144-157.
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From (Post)colonial Crisis to Cosmopolitan Hope: Bridging the Human and Non-human Dichotomy in Amitav
Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide
www.the-criterion.com
https://doi.org/10.5281/zenodo.10448030
Nixon, Rob. “Environmentalism and Postcolonialism.” In Postcolonial Studies and Beyond,
edited by Ania Loomba, et al., Duke University Press, 2005, pp. 233-251.
Tuan, Yi-Fu. Topophilia: A Study of Environmental Perception, Attitudes, and Values.
University of Minnesota Press, 1974.
Walia, Nona. “Let’s be Warned…: Sixth Sense in The Hungry Tide.” Book Review, The Times
of India, New Delhi, January 6, 2005. Accessed on the web.
Weik, Alexa. “The Home, the Tide, and the World: Eco-cosmopolitan Encounters in Amitav
Ghosh’s The Hungry Tide.” Journal of Commonwealth and Postcolonial Studies, vol. 13, no.
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