A launch is moving leisurely down the peaceful, sunlit waterways of the Sunderban mangrove forests. On the mudflats, mangrove roots are gnarled into impossible shapes or pushing up erect, like armies of sticks marching into the water. Flashes of blue, copper, black, white or red resolve themselves into birds swooping and darting over the flats or skimming the water. Suddenly, a muted cry goes up from the launcha tiger There it is, the king of the forest, lolling in the mud in the midday shade, and regally ignoring the boat that is slowing down.









