Three nights in the Sundarbans — and a tiger we never saw

We left Godkhali jetty at first light. The boatman, Sankar-da, said the tide would be ours by ten. By the time we slid into the Pakhiralay creek, the mangroves had closed around us like a green corridor and the only sound was diesel and birdcall. For three days we ate hot khichuri on a wooden deck, watched fishermen mend nets, and slept to the slap of water on the hull. We never saw the tiger. But on the second morning a Brahminy kite circled us for an hour, and on the third night the stars came down so close I forgot which way was up. The Sundarbans does not give you what you came for. It gives you what you needed.