Nicobar and Pilpee

NICOBAR AND PILPEE
Based on a fact

I was travelling across the country to work on Malaria eradication on a project of the Malaria Research Centre. One of those sites was Car Nicobar which is just a dot on the map at the bottom of Andaman & Nicobar Islands, a tiny land a few kilometres wide. This is one of the best travels for me in spite I travelled to dozens of exotic places across the globe.

Some unique facts about Car Nicobar. Small Island and only a few thousand native people were lived there when I went there and not much changed even today as I know. It had no public transport, no electricity, and no hotel other than one small government guest house where I stayed. One Generator supplies electricity to around 50/60 houses including the only guest house that too for 2/3 hours only in the evening. No big shops but a few small ones, open only during daylight, which were run by the local indigenous people. You may not believe but the fact is that they still use an exchange system parallel to currency, the same as the process commonly followed thousands of years before. For example, a hundred pairs of coconut for one Jeans trousers. One goat in exchange for a hundred kilos of rice. Sometimes Onge tribal come as a group from other islands by their hand-made wood log boat to have a round-off and take some essential things for their living in a jungle. Certainly, they neither know what the currency note is nor pay. However, it is allowed as per the government instruction to cooperate with Onge, Jarawa at any cost as well as the government compensates for it. Is it not more interesting than fiction?

It is difficult for me to suppress my desire to explain the wild beauty of this unique piece of land, but I need to start a vital part of the story which is also real. I explained this in detail in one of my published stories written in Bengali and I can write a thousand-page book on it explaining its boundary-less splendid beauty.

I went there for one day of official work which was the commissioning of a German weather monitoring system. However, I had to stay Sunday to Sunday as only one flight was going there on Sunday morning every week at that time, and later the same was also withdrawn long back. And one more interesting thing is that there were only two more passengers in that hundred-plus seat standard aircraft when I travelled. One of them was an aeronautical engineer, in case some problem occurred in the aeroplane he could do something to return to Port Blair with the plane for major repair.

As I did not have much official work, it was my daily routine to go to the middle of the island in the morning time to experience the deep forest made of coconut trees, along with the malaria-controlling workers who used to go there to cover up water logging areas which were the potential breeding bed of mosquitoes. Also, my daily routine was to walk across the seashore in the afternoon, completely alone keeping the copper-blue ocean on one side and the deep green coconut forest on my other side, imbibing the abandoned beauty of almighty. Ultimately my walk destination was the small port where many big boats & launches come from different islands with goods or to collect sweet water as Car Nicobar is the only source of sweet water among the innumerable islands in that area.

After reaching the port, I used to take a seat on the bench of the only tea shop to enjoy the vicinity of people with a cup of tea which is otherwise not common in Car Nicobar. Somehow, the shop owner Kalida became familiar, so I used to spend the completes afternoon there till dusk. There, I used to see a girl of around twenty-two years of age sitting on a nearby bench the whole day. She was young and blessed with an innocent face. She was not talking to anyone and just passing time with blank sights. I could make out that she was anxious, watching her impatient eyes on her gentle face. Whenever any boat or launch was taking entry, she immediately ran near to the boat, catching the rope with great skill which usually someone throws from the boat deck and tying it with the platform pillar. She was doing a great job alone to help dozens of boats to anchor safely.
One day I asked Kalida, ‘Who is this girl? Is she an employee of the port? If so, why she is being exploited working throughout the day?’
Kalida replied, ‘She is not an employee. Her name is Pilpee, lives nearby. She does it on her own, and helps all boats to anchor safely, though we used to tell her not to do it. There is a story behind it.’

Kalida stopped to serve tea to a few workers who took the seats on another bench. When Kalida returned, I asked with full curiosity, ‘What is the story?’.

Kalida states again, ‘Two years before she came here marrying a launch Sareng (Pilot). They were happily married couples. Both used to come to my shop, and we were having a good time chatting and laughing together. One day, it was a bad day, heavy rain and wind were floating across, and the sea was violent. Most of the launches and boats were anchored. Her husband was returning with his launch in that violent sea. He thought that somehow he could reach home as otherwise there would be no chance in the next few days as the sea would remain violent for days. He was also worried as a husband as his wife would be alone at home. So, instead of safely anchoring his boat on some other nearby island he kept on heading toward this island. However, he had hard luck. Ultimately, he could not negotiate for a long time with the giant waves. His launch toppled. He could not unlock the cabin door and the entire ship sank to the bottom of the sea. No one yet gets the trace of the launch. However, Pilpee does not believe it still.’

My throat became heavy and I could not ask Kalida further. Watching my silence Kalida continued, ‘Pilpee still thinks her husband is alive, he is so expert Sareng that cannot die. He might have taken shelter somewhere and one day should come back. So, she has been waiting for her husband on this jetty for the last two years. Whenever any boat approaches the jetty, she runs and helps the boat to anchor. And if you notice carefully, you will find that she watches the Sarang, and every passenger comes out of the boat. With a heartfelt wish that one day her husband will return to her life.’

It has been a long time since I came back. Still, I cannot forget Pilpee. Did she still search for her husband daily, round the clock, around the year?

—o—