This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.
What do you get when you force together thousands of desperate people and approximately 100 man-eating tigers, all vying for survival on land that is rapidly being swallowed by the sea? Welcome to life in the Sundarbans, the world’s largest mangrove forest, and the unhappy home of a community of grieving outcasts known as the ‘tiger widows.’
Sprawling out across the India-Bangladesh border, the Sundarbans is a vast saltwater labyrinth made up of hundreds of semi-submerged islands. Today, it’s also a place governed by distant unseen forces, as centuries of myth collide violently with climate change.
Five million superstitious villagers depend heavily upon the Sundarbans for resources, scraping together modest livelihoods from the catching of fish and shrimp, honey collection, woodcutting, and farming. Yet the terrain here is vanishing beneath rising tides, compelling humans to venture further and further into the dense forests—which is a problem, as that’s where the tigers live.
According to volunteer group the Sunderban Foundation, there were around 130 tiger attacks on humans last year, resulting in 40 to 50 deaths. Yet other local estimates suggest there were as many as double that. This is because even fatal encounters frequently go unreported. While around 3,000 Indian citizens have permission to enter the forest, many more do so illegally. If an outlaw foray into the depths of the Sundarbans ends in death, survivors are often too fearful of prosecution to register it with authorities.
In the aftermath of a tiger ambush, it’s more often than not the families of the victims—cash-strapped, vulnerable, and still in mourning—who suffer most.
Among the Sundarbans’ most pervasive folk tales is the story of Bonbibi, the guardian spirit of the forest. As per local lore, Bonbibi was sent by Allah to resolve conflicts between humans and a shape-shifting tiger demon named Dokkhin Rai. Bonbibi defeated Rai, establishing boundaries between human settlements and the tigers’ domain. She subsequently made a divine decree: that anyone entering the forest out of greed would be left to face a tiger’s wrath without her protection, and this tale continues to shape the fears of those living in the Sunderbans.
This deeply rooted cultural narrative has given rise to a community of “tiger widows,” with more than 3,000 women who’ve lost husbands to tiger attacks living in the Indian section of the Sundarbans alone. Ostracized as “swami khejos” (husband eaters), they’re often shunned by their fellow villagers as bad omens who’ve been punished by Bonbibi, and receive just 500,000 Indian rupees (around $5,900 USD) in compensation from the government. (For widows whose husbands were killed while entering the forest illegally, even this meager sum is denied.)
“For fun, she might go for an evening walk and stare into the river. Her battered Nokia phone, often too expensive to charge, is her only link to the outside world.”
Tiger widow Subhala Mandal, 45, lives a life marked by adversity. Her small mud house is home to her 10-year-old grandson Aloke and his mother, who works as a roadside cook to make ends meet. Burdened by knee pain, Subhala has struggled to provide for her family since her husband Biren was killed by a tiger 12 years ago during a fishing expedition. Unlike many tiger widows, she does possess her late husband’s valid permits for forest access, yet she was unable to navigate the complex bureaucratic maze to claim government aid.
When asked what has kept her going, Subhala revealed, “My children were my only hope. What’s gone is gone; I couldn’t change the past or live in trauma forever.” For Subhala, resilience became a necessity; she learned how to farm and fish to secure her family’s future.
Nomita Mandal, a 54-year-old farmer with a heart condition, lives alone in the tiny village of Bali. In 2010, her husband was killed by a tiger, also while out fishing. Carrying the stigma of widowhood, Nomita now leads a repetitive life with limited companionship; days revolve around chores, while for fun she might go for an evening walk and stare into the river. Her battered Nokia phone, often too expensive to charge, is her only link to the outside world.
Yet, even amid her struggles, Nomita finds moments of joy. Festivals are a rare reprieve, giving the tiger widows a reason to congregate and enjoy stage shows and snacks, brief interludes from the monotony of their days. Some draw solace from their remaining family members, while others rely on small moments of connection—whether through a shared meal or the tinny blare of a radio app on a mobile screen. Reflecting on her life, Nomita shared a simple piece of advice for anyone who finds themselves stuck at rock bottom: “Never lose hope.”
Globally, the plight of these women reflects the growing intersection of climate change, supernatural belief, and systemic inequalities. As sea levels rise and habitats shrink, encounters between humans and wildlife are bound to increase, making the struggles of the tiger widows a harbinger of challenges coming soon to vulnerable communities worldwide.
Follow Rana Pandey on Instagram @pandeyrana
This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.
The post It Never Rains but It Pours for the Tiger Widows appeared first on VICE.
