The Hungry Tide

"...home is wherever I can brew a pot of good tea", says Nilima. In myriad ways, the novel unfolds itself to each soul. You find bits and pieces of you through out; sometimes even the whole of you. You identify yourself with Nilima. When she asks Kanai, "...the dreamers have everyone to speak for them. But those who are patient, those who try to be strong, who try to build things - no one ever sees any poetry in that, do they?". With Piya. When she says, "They just laughed when they heard my story. They had all been through something similar. It was as if what I had been through wasn't even my own story - just a script we were all doomed to live out." With Moyna. When you realize how well she understood the art of translation, persuasion, speaking for someone else. "Because words are just air, Kanai-babu. When the wind blows on the water, you see ripples and waves, but the real river lies beneath, unseen and unheard. You can't blow on the waters surface from below Kanai-babu. Only someone who is outside can do that, someone like you." With Kusum. The one who knew what she wanted and what to do. Sometimes with all of them. You feel at home among these women. Among the nature, among the Orcaella. In the river, in the wind, in the sun. You feel the river in you, the wind in you, the sun in you. Home is wherever one can find herself, as this book is for me. It was as if the book had given me what life could not. An assurance. An assurance that even your insignificant journey will be locked up there in the stars; that you are a part of the cosmos. An assurance that at last someone will be home.