Reaching There
The first time we visited Bandhavgarh was in 1997. Kakoli, the two kids (Maitreyi is my daughters name; she was 10 and Udayan, my son, was barely 8 years of age) and I went to this National Park which is much farther off compared to Kanha. We did not even know the route properly and went to Bilaspur by train. From Bilaspur we wanted to take a taxi all the way to bandhavgrah. I did talk to a few taxi drivers but rejected their offers since Kakoli did not like the look of them. I have to admit that Kakoli overall is a better judge of human beings than yours truly. After talking to people at the railway station we decided to take a train to Shahdol. I do not like train travel and therefore was loathe doing it. Also, I love travel by a car and so was fretting and fuming about Kakoli’s decision. But this I did internally. There are two reasons for this. First of all I like to be taken as an accommodating husband (internally I may be just as good as any other husband!). Secondly, Kakoli does not take it kindly if you oppose her decision (call me henpecked!).
But the train ride proved to be good against all my assumptions. First of all it was a passenger train. These trains are to be hated because they pause for a long time at every small station. This one did too. But the terrain through which it progressed was so beautiful, you did not mind the slow progress at all and as time went on my nerves were calmed and I got lost in the beauty of the surroundings. Secondly, it brought an assortment of passengers from all stations. Many of these passengers wore very colorful dresses and they were lost in their own conversations which revealed their simplicity of thinking (I did eavesdrop). One rather interesting passenger boarded the train at a station.
Right from the beginning there was something odd about this passenger. I looked up at him and then again and then yet again and just could not understand just what was striking me as odd. The fellow was very fair and rather feminine by the texture of the skin and the cut of the face. But many males are effeminate. That couldn’t have struck me as odd. The guy had a bushy moustache. But that is not at all odd – I myself sport one. The guy took out a potli (a small cloth bag) and brought out a few eatables and started eating. Even the manner in which he ate was quite dainty, more like a female. For the life of me, I just could not guess what was gnawing at my mind about this person. About 5-6 stations later he disembarked. As the guy got up I noticed that he was wearing a rather gaudy red sari. HE WAS WEARING A RED SARI! It was not a he. It was a she and she had a bushy moustache. God! One male character and you are fooled enough to take the whole package as male – the power of the moustache.
We reached Shahdol at around 3 PM. It was quite difficult to get a taxi from there to Bandhavgarh. In fact nobody knew of Bandhavgarh! Gradually we found out that the name of the village is Tala and people know about Tala but not Bandhavgarh. We got a taxi after about an hour. The road was bad. The travel jarring. Eventually it was about 9 PM that we reached the MPTC resort. It was winter and it was freezing. The manager at the counter was gulping down a highball and there were quite a few people in front of the desk. We talked to the guy, showed him our reservation papers and were taken to a cottage that was situated at the farthest point of the resort.
The resort was not what it is today. There has been fresh construction and several new rooms have been created. However, the serenity of the past is lost at the cost of accommodating more tourists. But back then, when we reached the cottage, it was quite isolated. We bathed, and almost immediately dressed to go for dinner. The way to the restaurant was quiet and dark with dim lamps at the ground level to show you where you walked and to bring to light any serpent or other creatures. My children huddled together. My daughter does not like cold and she complained a bit. The son is the other way round; he loves winters and the harsher they are, the better. I and Kakoli are more or less like him.
The dinner was not so good. Although I must admit that if you give me a drink or two, the pain of bad dinner is not felt so much. There was one saving grace though. The waiter realized that we had not liked the food. He came over asking what was it that spoiled the experience is. My son and daughter enthusiastically explained to him how they want the things. From the next day, the things improved considerably.
After the dinner we got out into the open. The sky was dark but laden with sparkling stars. The air had the fresh quality that is there in winters and especially so in the jungles. We took a short walk till we came to a wicket gate. There were instructions there that one should not venture beyond this gate. We normally abide by the rules. In this one instance though we broke the rule and walked through that gate. We knew that it could be dangerous. Also, come to think of it, it was downright foolhardy to do that. But we did for god knows what reason. We walked for about 200 meters before we thought we should retrace our way. The jungle was getting too dense and we could not see our way beyond. So we retraced our steps back.
Just how foolhardy our action was became clear the next day. Talking to workers in the resort over lunch, we were told,
“Sahib, do not go beyond that gate. Previously, just a year back, there was no boundary enclosing this resort. But leopards and some herbivores used to come over right up to the cottages. So we enclosed this in barbed wire fencing. The gate is a part of the fence. A few months back, a leopard got caught in the barbed wires just besides the gate. Some employees come through that gate – that is why the gate is there. These employees report seeing leopards quite frequently in the area near the gate.”
Showing posts with label Bandhavgarh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bandhavgarh. Show all posts
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
TWO SCENES
Two scenes, both in different jungles, will remain permanently etched in my mind for all the time that I live. There is nothing dramatic about any of these scenes. There was no movement in the first and no sound either; the second one at least has some sound bytes associated with it. I never take a camera with me and so there are no pictures either. Not that any camera could have captured how I saw the scenes and what my mind perceived. Only words can paint a picture and create an imagery that can carry the beauty across.
Oh! To Die Like That!
There are very few writers that I have loved reading as much as Hemingway. And there is one story by this great writer that I have never been able to shake off – The Snows of Kilimanjaro. It is a dark little story that left me feeling utterly desolate. It is about a failed writer who has had an injury in an African jungle and has developed gangrene and is dying because no medical attention is available. While dying he reminisces and all recollections revolve around scenes and events and feelings that he could have written about and did not, and could not. He passes into delirium and the hallucination is a white blaze that is the flat snow-laden peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. He dies without expression of his creative abilities. The story sort of presaged Hemingway’s own death. He committed suicide in a fit of depression because he was unable to express a feeling the way he wanted to. I could not shake this story off – it is just too bad to walk off the stage without having sung your song.
We were in Bandhavgarh National Forest and the year must have been 1997, the month December, probably the Christmas day. It was an evening trip and a very successful one at that. We had spotted a tiger walking upon a ridge at very close quarters and the view must have lasted for at least 10 minutes, may be more. A host of other animals were also spotted. All this had happened around 5 in the evening. We were tracing our steps back and heading back towards the gate so that we could reach it before sunset. The terrain was hilly. The sun was now just skimming the horizon and there was a reddish haze in the sky.
The jeep turned left and the road started rising steeply. At the top of the rise was a bamboo thicket and behind it was the dying sun invisible from where we were. As we climbed, the sun became visible behind the thick veil of the bamboo stems and leaves. Bamboo rarely grows singly. There are at least 50-60 plants growing clustered together. As they rise, they all bend away from each other giving the illusion of a huge vase that diverges from a narrow base. Bamboo flowers once in 10-12 years and dies immediately after flowering. This one had flowered and was now deep in the embrace of death. Leaves at different levels were in different stages of drying up. As we came abreast of it I asked the driver to stop. The setting orange ball was behind the tree and each leaf interpreted the light in a different hue. The top leaves reflected a different color and those in the middle a different one. Leaves at the same level reflected the same color but different shades of it. The colors had a glimmer from the slight moisture still left within the leaves and so there was sparkle to the entire spectacle that made it difficult to look at for a long time. It was as if the tree had burst out in a glory of creativity in its last effort at it. As if there were a thousand lyrics written all at once, a thousand shades brought into the same picture seamlessly, an expression that never was in its long life, only the stress of looming death had suddenly coalesced all the talent into creating a brilliant imagery. The tree was walking off the stage of life but not before choreographing a stunning death dance. Oh! To die like that!
Scene II: Tranquility
Kanha. God how I love this jungle! This was a morning trip in mid-May, the month that we associate with killer heat. It was cool in the jungle almost making us miss a sweater! It must have been around 8’O clock and the sun had risen 45o in the sky. We took a turn and a whole vista opened up before us. To our left was a vast glade. There were very few trees and the grass growing was a lighter shade of green. A huge tree had fallen across and was in an advanced stage of drying. Perched atop the thick main stem that was almost horizontal was a peacock. There was no other animal in the glade. In front of us, about 50 feet away and slightly to the right was an Amaltas (Cassia fistula linn.) that had a thick, rich yellow inflorescence against a green background of its leaves. The yellow was made richer by the slanting sun rays. There was just enough brightness to the sun so as to make the scene brilliant, to confer a glint to the slight dew on the grass. There was no heat as yet. There was an utter absence of any sound. And then the peacock sang its sonorous song – pheooon….. pheeeoooonnnn! The song set to the background of the bright yellow of Amaltas was about tranquility. We stayed there till the song lasted gulping down with our eyes the melody of the colors and with our ears the quietude of the song. I have never been to a more peaceful place than this in my entire life and never have felt so serene. I have tried to visit the same place again and have not relived the same scene ever.
Oh! To Die Like That!
There are very few writers that I have loved reading as much as Hemingway. And there is one story by this great writer that I have never been able to shake off – The Snows of Kilimanjaro. It is a dark little story that left me feeling utterly desolate. It is about a failed writer who has had an injury in an African jungle and has developed gangrene and is dying because no medical attention is available. While dying he reminisces and all recollections revolve around scenes and events and feelings that he could have written about and did not, and could not. He passes into delirium and the hallucination is a white blaze that is the flat snow-laden peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. He dies without expression of his creative abilities. The story sort of presaged Hemingway’s own death. He committed suicide in a fit of depression because he was unable to express a feeling the way he wanted to. I could not shake this story off – it is just too bad to walk off the stage without having sung your song.
We were in Bandhavgarh National Forest and the year must have been 1997, the month December, probably the Christmas day. It was an evening trip and a very successful one at that. We had spotted a tiger walking upon a ridge at very close quarters and the view must have lasted for at least 10 minutes, may be more. A host of other animals were also spotted. All this had happened around 5 in the evening. We were tracing our steps back and heading back towards the gate so that we could reach it before sunset. The terrain was hilly. The sun was now just skimming the horizon and there was a reddish haze in the sky.
The jeep turned left and the road started rising steeply. At the top of the rise was a bamboo thicket and behind it was the dying sun invisible from where we were. As we climbed, the sun became visible behind the thick veil of the bamboo stems and leaves. Bamboo rarely grows singly. There are at least 50-60 plants growing clustered together. As they rise, they all bend away from each other giving the illusion of a huge vase that diverges from a narrow base. Bamboo flowers once in 10-12 years and dies immediately after flowering. This one had flowered and was now deep in the embrace of death. Leaves at different levels were in different stages of drying up. As we came abreast of it I asked the driver to stop. The setting orange ball was behind the tree and each leaf interpreted the light in a different hue. The top leaves reflected a different color and those in the middle a different one. Leaves at the same level reflected the same color but different shades of it. The colors had a glimmer from the slight moisture still left within the leaves and so there was sparkle to the entire spectacle that made it difficult to look at for a long time. It was as if the tree had burst out in a glory of creativity in its last effort at it. As if there were a thousand lyrics written all at once, a thousand shades brought into the same picture seamlessly, an expression that never was in its long life, only the stress of looming death had suddenly coalesced all the talent into creating a brilliant imagery. The tree was walking off the stage of life but not before choreographing a stunning death dance. Oh! To die like that!
Scene II: Tranquility
Kanha. God how I love this jungle! This was a morning trip in mid-May, the month that we associate with killer heat. It was cool in the jungle almost making us miss a sweater! It must have been around 8’O clock and the sun had risen 45o in the sky. We took a turn and a whole vista opened up before us. To our left was a vast glade. There were very few trees and the grass growing was a lighter shade of green. A huge tree had fallen across and was in an advanced stage of drying. Perched atop the thick main stem that was almost horizontal was a peacock. There was no other animal in the glade. In front of us, about 50 feet away and slightly to the right was an Amaltas (Cassia fistula linn.) that had a thick, rich yellow inflorescence against a green background of its leaves. The yellow was made richer by the slanting sun rays. There was just enough brightness to the sun so as to make the scene brilliant, to confer a glint to the slight dew on the grass. There was no heat as yet. There was an utter absence of any sound. And then the peacock sang its sonorous song – pheooon….. pheeeoooonnnn! The song set to the background of the bright yellow of Amaltas was about tranquility. We stayed there till the song lasted gulping down with our eyes the melody of the colors and with our ears the quietude of the song. I have never been to a more peaceful place than this in my entire life and never have felt so serene. I have tried to visit the same place again and have not relived the same scene ever.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
AN EVENING NEXT TO A KILL
“Hamari aaj ki trip yahin khatam ho gayi hai.” (“Our trip has ended here today.”) I told the driver and the guide in a tone that told them that the decision was final. “We will remain here till it is time to get out of the gate.”
We, I and Kakoli (my friend and wife), were in Bandhavgarh National Forest. The day was 23rd of December 2006. The time must have been around 3.30 PM. The situation was promising and that is why the decision to stay put.
There are two National Forests in Madhya Pradesh that we have visited so far – Kanha and Bandhavgarh. We keep going to Kanha every so often – so much so that the Joke among our friends is, “Hey, it must have been more than two months since you have been to Kanha – the tigers there must be missing you by now!” It is nearer to Nagpur and, actually speaking, we are in love with that jungle. Bandhavgarh is farther up north and one only reaches here by late evening having started from Nagpur early in the morning. Both jungles are mainly Bamboo and Sal (Shorea robusta) but Kanha has more Bamboo thickets. If one leaves these two trees out, Bandhavgarh has a more mixed forest than Kanha. Bandhavgarh is very hilly and Kanha less so. But Kanha has more diversity of animals. There is never a dull moment there – some animal or bird always vying for your attention while you are in the jeep driving the rough, dusty lanes. The guides in Kanha are just wonderful and those in Bandhavgarh are just another occupant of the jeep (there are exceptions). But if you want to see the tigers, you must come to Bandhavgarh. You see the Kings in Kanha too. But the tiger density is much higher in Bandhavgarh and chances of spotting the Royalty that much more.
We had taken a trip in the morning too. While passing through a remote area of the forest, we had come across a kill. We thought it was a wild buffalo. But our guide told us it was a domestic one which must have been let in by the villagers to graze in the richer pastures of the protected jungle. The guide further added that it must be a kill of a tigress that lived in this particular area and that it had two cubs. The allotted time in the forest was getting over so we had to retrace our steps back in order to get to the gate in time.
When we went in again for the evening trip, we requested the driver to move towards the kill. The kill was still at the same place and had not been disturbed at all – not even by the tigress. The oddest thing was that the kill was out there in the open just a meter or so away from the dirt road on which our jeep was standing. There was no tree or bush nearby and nothing was done to conceal the kill at all. This is not what the tigers do with their kill. They drag it away from any region where it is likely to be disturbed. They conceal it well so that it is not visible from the air to the eagles and vultures which will otherwise devour it when the tiger is away. It must ideally be also concealed from other land-dwelling predators who don’t mind stealing someone else’s kill. But this kill was lying out in the open inviting any and all sundry predators that chanced to spot it. And there was ample proof that other predators had indeed spotted it. But still it was a kill of a tigress alright. There were the telltale marks – the neck had been twisted, the tooth marks were too at the neck; the tail had been ripped off (tigers begin eating after removing the tail).
On both sides of the road was clear meadow (see diagram). There were not many trees. The meadow on both sides of the road extended along the road for almost 300 meters. At both ends of this 300 meter clear stretch was dense jungle. The kill was about 100 meters from one end of this stretch and 200 meters from the other. We were standing right besides the kill, our jeep pointing in the direction where the jungle stood 200 meters away. The nearest tree on our right in the meadow was something like 20 meters away from the road. And on this tree were perching something like 70-80 vultures. The tree on our left was slightly farther off. On this tree too there were vultures but much less in number than the tree on the right. Obviously, they were waiting to swoop down for a party.
The air was still. Not a leaf moved. But the whole environment was expectant. And ours was the only jeep there.
It was at this juncture I told the driver to stop and that our trip had ended for the day. For the rest of the allowed time inside the national park (till sunset) we had decided to stay put there and take a chance that the tigress will come to its kill. The calculations in my mind were simple. What if the tigress decided to stay off till sunset? That would have been normal, you see. We still would not be losers. There were vultures atop the two trees waiting patiently. They were sure to come down from their high perches to gorge themselves. In that case there would be a fight between their ranks for the juicy morsels and that would be every bit worth watching – well not as much as watching a tigress coming to the kill but almost as much. We had seen such a fight between vultures in Kanha sometime back.
One of the funkiest things in Kanha is the canteen that is situated right in the heart of the Jungle! When we had first come to Kanha and came face to face with this stark human intrusion into the otherwise natural environs, we thought the very idea despicable. At 9 AM in the morning there is such a hustle bustle here – a large throng of tourists enjoying hot alu-pakoras or bread-pakoras with hot tea to go along and jet black crows swooping down on the dustbins in search of leftovers. But I must admit that in the freezing winters of Kanha, these hot snacks are more than welcome. With time we have come to think that this does not disturb the general ambience of the jungle at all. You move away from this place and 100 meters down the road neither can you see the place nor hear the people (at least the sound is not audible to human ears).
One summer morning we were just moving away from this canteen. The time must have been around 10 AM. We took a turn and there was a large clearing in the jungle to our left. In this clearing was a large piece of meat which we could not make out clearly what it was from the distance. There were already around 15 vultures fighting to get a piece from that chunk. And more vultures were arriving from all directions. All three species of the vultures commonly found in Kanha – the white-backed vulture, the long-billed vulture and the rare King vulture were present here. The ranks went on swelling and very soon a fight broke out. These monstrous birds fight with their beaks, with their talons and with their wings. What is breathtaking is their fight with each other with their wings half extended. We watched this a long time till our backs burned from the summer sun. Very late, when we couldn’t stand the heat, did we move off. The fight continued even as we left. This is the fight that we hoped would soon ensue where we were standing in Bandhavgarh and would be our reward even if the tigress failed to make an appearance.
Nothing, nothing at all, happened for the next fifteen minutes. The vultures kept sitting where they were. No new bird or animal arrived on the scene. There was no breeze and not even a blade of grass moved. And then another jeep bearing around 5-6 tourists arrived. Our hearts sank.
It is a religion in National Parks that if a jeep is observed to be stationary at a place for longer than a few minutes, the other jeeps in the vicinity too converge there to investigate – may be a tiger has been spotted. It is impossible therefore to be alone at a place for more than a few moments. And the moment there is a crowd, the shy animal(s) make themselves scarce. So, the moment this jeep arrived, our hearts sank because we knew that several more will gather around now. The occupants were a bit noisy. “Yahan kya hai? What’s there at this place?” The guide showed them the kill and told them it must have been a tigress that killed the buffalo. The fellows decided to wait it out like us. Soon another jeep arrived and then yet another and yet another. In a matter of next five minutes around 20-25 jeeps assembled on the road on either side of the kill. There then ensued a rivalry between drivers and guides and each jeep started making maneuvers trying to secure the best spot to view the tigress on the kill whenever the tigress arrived. Dust flew from the tires and there was a haze in the evening sun. More than that, there was noise from people and from the jeeps. We thought the chance gone – the tigress would never arrive in such a situation.
Our guide said otherwise. “None of these jeeps is going to stay here more then the next 5-10 minutes. Sir! They don’t have any patience. Just don’t worry. They will go away and there is ample time still remaining. At the most there will be just two jeeps left after some time. That is alright.”
Whether we believed him or not, we had no choice. We stayed put. Then one of the jeeps started and left. Another minute and another jeep went. Gradually, the road cleared. Soon ours was the only jeep that remained. Good. Human nature. Everyone wants to see a tiger. But to achieve something one must be constantly active. To sit still in order to achieve something is a gift that we have forgotten.
At 4 PM (we think) a crow arrived on the scene. It flew over the kill, went past it, turned back, went over the kill again and then alighted on the nearest tree on our left. From there it watched the kill for a few minutes and then swooped down on it. Just as it was to settle down on the kill it seemed to change its mind and flew over it and went to the tree on our right. The black bird alighted at a small vacancy between two white-backed vultures.
“Why are the vultures not coming to the kill?” I asked the guide. It was more a loud musing than a question.
“Probably the tigress is hiding nearby,” the guide offered.
“From their position on the tree, the vultures may be able to see the tigress while we are oblivious of its presence.” That was Kakoli coming up with a possibility. The guide nodded his head.
The crow dived down again and this time sat on the shoulders of the kill. It craned its neck in either direction and then sank its beak into the kill where there was a tiny tear in the flesh. It kept picking up tiny bits of flesh from the kill and gulping them down. A few minutes of this and it flew away. A curious thing happened now. Size is respected in the jungles. So you would expect that the crow is duly afraid of the vultures. This crow flew to the tree on the right, alighted on a branch and shoved a wing at the nearby vulture which duly moved slightly away giving berth to the smaller bird. The crow now shoved the other wing at the vultures sitting on the other side and this one too yielded space! We had never thought this possible. Perhaps the vulture respected the bird which had showed the courage to appropriate a bit of the kill belonging to the king of the jungle!
The crow now flew away to the tree farther away on our right. When it came back, it had a companion with it. Both crows settled on the kill and both began eating. Even while this went on a King vulture made an appearance on our left. It flew low over the kill and went away. Like the crow, it returned again and perched on the tree to our left. A king vulture, in spite of its name, is actually much smaller than the other vultures. But it looks every bit a king. It has a red beak in an otherwise black head. The wings too are black but the underside can be white. This contrast of dark colors gives it some character which the other vultures just don’t possess even though they are bigger.
The crows flew away after having filled their gizzards with as much as they could. The King vulture flew again only to alight on the other tree. It kept repeating the same flight path, kept reconnoitering, but did not seem to have the pluck to come to the kill.
It was getting late now. It must have been almost 5 in the evening. At 5.30 we would have to make a move because one had to be at the gate before 6 and this part of the jungle was on the other side of the gate (we did not know then that there was another gate from which we could move out and that gate was quite near; this gate is called the Lohadi gate and eventually this was the gate that we got out from). Neither had the tigress come nor had we seen the vultures fighting over the kill.
And then the King vulture lunged down at the kill. It sat there exactly where the crow had sat and began tearing the flesh. A moment or so later, the vultures on the tree to our right stirred. One of them flew and dived down on the kill. Then the second, then the third and in no time, the entire kill was invisible. All over it, the wings flapped and then began a fight that we will not forget in a hurry. It was every bit the same as the one we had observed in Kanha but this one we were observing from a ringside seat. It is almost as if we could feel the air stirred by their angry wings on our cheeks.
A sambhar deer gave an alarm call from the dense jungle to our right on the far side. There is a resonant quality to this sound and goes something like dhank! You can hear it even from a kilometer or so away. We knew that the tigress had made a move. A second alarm call came. The very air was now charged. Our limbs went dead, eyes peeled to the place from where the alarm calls were coming. And out came a jeep from that side. Shit! Now the tigress will take longer in coming if at all it did.
“Dushyant Kumar,” said the guide.
“What?” I asked irritated.
“Dushyant Kumar. He is a naturalist. I had told you that only one more jeep will remain here with us. Well this is the jeep I was talking about. He was not to let go of such a chance. He has patience like you people and he knows and takes his chances.”
The jeep stopped alongside with us.
“The tigress is coming along that side… we just saw it fleetingly.” Dushyant Kumar said.
“We heard the alarm call,” I said curtly.
“Why don’t we move back slightly? That would be better. Otherwise the tigress may not break cover,” This was the naturalist’s suggestion and we found merit in it. We moved back about 50 meters.
The vultures were still at the kill, fighting over it, trying to tear it when one got hold of it momentarily before it was displaced by another from the ranks. The sambhar gave vent to its fear again – dhank! Then two, three alarm calls came in succession, each more accentuated in their urgency. From the corner of our eyes we detected movement at our far right just out of the jungle on that side and about 50 meters away from the road and 200 or so meters from the kill.
There are two things about the tiger that have always surprised us no matter how many times we have seen them now at close quarters. You would think that with the black stripes on the dark yellow coat that this majestic animal wears it would be visible rather easily. Not so. In fact these very colors make it so beautifully camouflaged in the dry yellow and bark black of the jungle that it is hardly visible until it makes a movement. And then too it takes a trained eye to spot it. Secondly, if you miss seeing it at first, the next instant you see it out in the open as if materialized from the soil beneath it and it would dart away as suddenly too. It would seem not real then but an apparition. This is even more so with leopards. That is the reason why so many more people actually get to see the tiger than get to see the leopard. Because these animals are so well camouflaged, your guides tell you that for every one tiger that you see in the jungle, 10 have seen you!
The tigress was moving towards the kill. It probably could not bear to see the vultures degrading its kill. It broke cover now and made a sudden rush towards the kill and we were grateful that we had moved slightly away. And then while running it jumped and then again and once again! In three great jumps it arrived ON the kill. All through while running and during the three jumps the tail was raised and taut. And it was angry. The moment it arrived on the kill there was a rush among the vultures to get away. These tertiary predators ran, there was a veritable stampede and then they rose into the air – all of them almost all at once. The tigress stood on the kill and looked angrily all around. Its tail was still up. It looked at us, looked down at the kill, looked at the vultures which were now flying higher, looked at us, looked at the kill. It was a remonstration as well as an assertion that the kill was rightfully hers. Its gaze now fixed upon us.
“Why don’t we move a little forward?” I murmured.
“It is angry sahib. You don’t know what it will do if you make a move.”
“Nevertheless, why don’t we, just an inch may be then another,” It could have been highly foolish of me to think that way at that moment. But I wanted to see an angry tigress from as close a quarter as could be.
The tigress was still staring at us and its tail was still up. It had not as much as touched the kill so far. Probably it was in no mood to eat – it had only come to claim it back from the vultures. And with the vultures gone, it now probably wanted us gone too.
“Let’s move ahead slowly,” this from Dushyant Kumar, the naturalist. And with this, his jeep moved and so did ours.
We watched the tigress with a mixture of awe, and fearful expectation as to what it would do now. Would it charge? They rarely charge at humans but such things are not unheard of either.
We inched ahead. As we moved, a look of hesitation crossed the tigress' face. It looked down at the kill and then looked at us; then again down at the kill and then at us. We kept moving. As we came almost abreast of it and when our hearts thudded in our breasts, the tigress moved – away from us and the kill. A sigh escaped my mouth. The tigress retraced its steps and went back from where it had come. We kept on moving slowly and watched it till it disappeared into the overgrowth.
We kept on moving, crossed the entire meadow, and as we came to that part of the road passing between the dense jungle, to our right we saw the sambhar which had given the alarm call. It was standing between two dense bushes, its body taut with tension, its eyes fixed in the direction in which the tigress had gone, its rather short tail turned completely up and showing the white underneath it. Then it gave another alarm call. We kept on moving because we had to be at the gate before sunset. But this was another treat for us – we had heard the alarm call several times but had never seen a sambhar actually engaged in calling.
(It’s a pity that we did not have a camera with us. But we never take one. We have so far believed that it is best to capture the scenes on the magnetic tape of our minds. But since this scene, we have decided to buy one just so that others can watch what we have.)
We, I and Kakoli (my friend and wife), were in Bandhavgarh National Forest. The day was 23rd of December 2006. The time must have been around 3.30 PM. The situation was promising and that is why the decision to stay put.
There are two National Forests in Madhya Pradesh that we have visited so far – Kanha and Bandhavgarh. We keep going to Kanha every so often – so much so that the Joke among our friends is, “Hey, it must have been more than two months since you have been to Kanha – the tigers there must be missing you by now!” It is nearer to Nagpur and, actually speaking, we are in love with that jungle. Bandhavgarh is farther up north and one only reaches here by late evening having started from Nagpur early in the morning. Both jungles are mainly Bamboo and Sal (Shorea robusta) but Kanha has more Bamboo thickets. If one leaves these two trees out, Bandhavgarh has a more mixed forest than Kanha. Bandhavgarh is very hilly and Kanha less so. But Kanha has more diversity of animals. There is never a dull moment there – some animal or bird always vying for your attention while you are in the jeep driving the rough, dusty lanes. The guides in Kanha are just wonderful and those in Bandhavgarh are just another occupant of the jeep (there are exceptions). But if you want to see the tigers, you must come to Bandhavgarh. You see the Kings in Kanha too. But the tiger density is much higher in Bandhavgarh and chances of spotting the Royalty that much more.
We had taken a trip in the morning too. While passing through a remote area of the forest, we had come across a kill. We thought it was a wild buffalo. But our guide told us it was a domestic one which must have been let in by the villagers to graze in the richer pastures of the protected jungle. The guide further added that it must be a kill of a tigress that lived in this particular area and that it had two cubs. The allotted time in the forest was getting over so we had to retrace our steps back in order to get to the gate in time.
When we went in again for the evening trip, we requested the driver to move towards the kill. The kill was still at the same place and had not been disturbed at all – not even by the tigress. The oddest thing was that the kill was out there in the open just a meter or so away from the dirt road on which our jeep was standing. There was no tree or bush nearby and nothing was done to conceal the kill at all. This is not what the tigers do with their kill. They drag it away from any region where it is likely to be disturbed. They conceal it well so that it is not visible from the air to the eagles and vultures which will otherwise devour it when the tiger is away. It must ideally be also concealed from other land-dwelling predators who don’t mind stealing someone else’s kill. But this kill was lying out in the open inviting any and all sundry predators that chanced to spot it. And there was ample proof that other predators had indeed spotted it. But still it was a kill of a tigress alright. There were the telltale marks – the neck had been twisted, the tooth marks were too at the neck; the tail had been ripped off (tigers begin eating after removing the tail).
On both sides of the road was clear meadow (see diagram). There were not many trees. The meadow on both sides of the road extended along the road for almost 300 meters. At both ends of this 300 meter clear stretch was dense jungle. The kill was about 100 meters from one end of this stretch and 200 meters from the other. We were standing right besides the kill, our jeep pointing in the direction where the jungle stood 200 meters away. The nearest tree on our right in the meadow was something like 20 meters away from the road. And on this tree were perching something like 70-80 vultures. The tree on our left was slightly farther off. On this tree too there were vultures but much less in number than the tree on the right. Obviously, they were waiting to swoop down for a party.
The air was still. Not a leaf moved. But the whole environment was expectant. And ours was the only jeep there.
It was at this juncture I told the driver to stop and that our trip had ended for the day. For the rest of the allowed time inside the national park (till sunset) we had decided to stay put there and take a chance that the tigress will come to its kill. The calculations in my mind were simple. What if the tigress decided to stay off till sunset? That would have been normal, you see. We still would not be losers. There were vultures atop the two trees waiting patiently. They were sure to come down from their high perches to gorge themselves. In that case there would be a fight between their ranks for the juicy morsels and that would be every bit worth watching – well not as much as watching a tigress coming to the kill but almost as much. We had seen such a fight between vultures in Kanha sometime back.
One of the funkiest things in Kanha is the canteen that is situated right in the heart of the Jungle! When we had first come to Kanha and came face to face with this stark human intrusion into the otherwise natural environs, we thought the very idea despicable. At 9 AM in the morning there is such a hustle bustle here – a large throng of tourists enjoying hot alu-pakoras or bread-pakoras with hot tea to go along and jet black crows swooping down on the dustbins in search of leftovers. But I must admit that in the freezing winters of Kanha, these hot snacks are more than welcome. With time we have come to think that this does not disturb the general ambience of the jungle at all. You move away from this place and 100 meters down the road neither can you see the place nor hear the people (at least the sound is not audible to human ears).
One summer morning we were just moving away from this canteen. The time must have been around 10 AM. We took a turn and there was a large clearing in the jungle to our left. In this clearing was a large piece of meat which we could not make out clearly what it was from the distance. There were already around 15 vultures fighting to get a piece from that chunk. And more vultures were arriving from all directions. All three species of the vultures commonly found in Kanha – the white-backed vulture, the long-billed vulture and the rare King vulture were present here. The ranks went on swelling and very soon a fight broke out. These monstrous birds fight with their beaks, with their talons and with their wings. What is breathtaking is their fight with each other with their wings half extended. We watched this a long time till our backs burned from the summer sun. Very late, when we couldn’t stand the heat, did we move off. The fight continued even as we left. This is the fight that we hoped would soon ensue where we were standing in Bandhavgarh and would be our reward even if the tigress failed to make an appearance.
Nothing, nothing at all, happened for the next fifteen minutes. The vultures kept sitting where they were. No new bird or animal arrived on the scene. There was no breeze and not even a blade of grass moved. And then another jeep bearing around 5-6 tourists arrived. Our hearts sank.
It is a religion in National Parks that if a jeep is observed to be stationary at a place for longer than a few minutes, the other jeeps in the vicinity too converge there to investigate – may be a tiger has been spotted. It is impossible therefore to be alone at a place for more than a few moments. And the moment there is a crowd, the shy animal(s) make themselves scarce. So, the moment this jeep arrived, our hearts sank because we knew that several more will gather around now. The occupants were a bit noisy. “Yahan kya hai? What’s there at this place?” The guide showed them the kill and told them it must have been a tigress that killed the buffalo. The fellows decided to wait it out like us. Soon another jeep arrived and then yet another and yet another. In a matter of next five minutes around 20-25 jeeps assembled on the road on either side of the kill. There then ensued a rivalry between drivers and guides and each jeep started making maneuvers trying to secure the best spot to view the tigress on the kill whenever the tigress arrived. Dust flew from the tires and there was a haze in the evening sun. More than that, there was noise from people and from the jeeps. We thought the chance gone – the tigress would never arrive in such a situation.
Our guide said otherwise. “None of these jeeps is going to stay here more then the next 5-10 minutes. Sir! They don’t have any patience. Just don’t worry. They will go away and there is ample time still remaining. At the most there will be just two jeeps left after some time. That is alright.”
Whether we believed him or not, we had no choice. We stayed put. Then one of the jeeps started and left. Another minute and another jeep went. Gradually, the road cleared. Soon ours was the only jeep that remained. Good. Human nature. Everyone wants to see a tiger. But to achieve something one must be constantly active. To sit still in order to achieve something is a gift that we have forgotten.
At 4 PM (we think) a crow arrived on the scene. It flew over the kill, went past it, turned back, went over the kill again and then alighted on the nearest tree on our left. From there it watched the kill for a few minutes and then swooped down on it. Just as it was to settle down on the kill it seemed to change its mind and flew over it and went to the tree on our right. The black bird alighted at a small vacancy between two white-backed vultures.
“Why are the vultures not coming to the kill?” I asked the guide. It was more a loud musing than a question.
“Probably the tigress is hiding nearby,” the guide offered.
“From their position on the tree, the vultures may be able to see the tigress while we are oblivious of its presence.” That was Kakoli coming up with a possibility. The guide nodded his head.
The crow dived down again and this time sat on the shoulders of the kill. It craned its neck in either direction and then sank its beak into the kill where there was a tiny tear in the flesh. It kept picking up tiny bits of flesh from the kill and gulping them down. A few minutes of this and it flew away. A curious thing happened now. Size is respected in the jungles. So you would expect that the crow is duly afraid of the vultures. This crow flew to the tree on the right, alighted on a branch and shoved a wing at the nearby vulture which duly moved slightly away giving berth to the smaller bird. The crow now shoved the other wing at the vultures sitting on the other side and this one too yielded space! We had never thought this possible. Perhaps the vulture respected the bird which had showed the courage to appropriate a bit of the kill belonging to the king of the jungle!
The crow now flew away to the tree farther away on our right. When it came back, it had a companion with it. Both crows settled on the kill and both began eating. Even while this went on a King vulture made an appearance on our left. It flew low over the kill and went away. Like the crow, it returned again and perched on the tree to our left. A king vulture, in spite of its name, is actually much smaller than the other vultures. But it looks every bit a king. It has a red beak in an otherwise black head. The wings too are black but the underside can be white. This contrast of dark colors gives it some character which the other vultures just don’t possess even though they are bigger.
The crows flew away after having filled their gizzards with as much as they could. The King vulture flew again only to alight on the other tree. It kept repeating the same flight path, kept reconnoitering, but did not seem to have the pluck to come to the kill.
It was getting late now. It must have been almost 5 in the evening. At 5.30 we would have to make a move because one had to be at the gate before 6 and this part of the jungle was on the other side of the gate (we did not know then that there was another gate from which we could move out and that gate was quite near; this gate is called the Lohadi gate and eventually this was the gate that we got out from). Neither had the tigress come nor had we seen the vultures fighting over the kill.
And then the King vulture lunged down at the kill. It sat there exactly where the crow had sat and began tearing the flesh. A moment or so later, the vultures on the tree to our right stirred. One of them flew and dived down on the kill. Then the second, then the third and in no time, the entire kill was invisible. All over it, the wings flapped and then began a fight that we will not forget in a hurry. It was every bit the same as the one we had observed in Kanha but this one we were observing from a ringside seat. It is almost as if we could feel the air stirred by their angry wings on our cheeks.
A sambhar deer gave an alarm call from the dense jungle to our right on the far side. There is a resonant quality to this sound and goes something like dhank! You can hear it even from a kilometer or so away. We knew that the tigress had made a move. A second alarm call came. The very air was now charged. Our limbs went dead, eyes peeled to the place from where the alarm calls were coming. And out came a jeep from that side. Shit! Now the tigress will take longer in coming if at all it did.
“Dushyant Kumar,” said the guide.
“What?” I asked irritated.
“Dushyant Kumar. He is a naturalist. I had told you that only one more jeep will remain here with us. Well this is the jeep I was talking about. He was not to let go of such a chance. He has patience like you people and he knows and takes his chances.”
The jeep stopped alongside with us.
“The tigress is coming along that side… we just saw it fleetingly.” Dushyant Kumar said.
“We heard the alarm call,” I said curtly.
“Why don’t we move back slightly? That would be better. Otherwise the tigress may not break cover,” This was the naturalist’s suggestion and we found merit in it. We moved back about 50 meters.
The vultures were still at the kill, fighting over it, trying to tear it when one got hold of it momentarily before it was displaced by another from the ranks. The sambhar gave vent to its fear again – dhank! Then two, three alarm calls came in succession, each more accentuated in their urgency. From the corner of our eyes we detected movement at our far right just out of the jungle on that side and about 50 meters away from the road and 200 or so meters from the kill.
There are two things about the tiger that have always surprised us no matter how many times we have seen them now at close quarters. You would think that with the black stripes on the dark yellow coat that this majestic animal wears it would be visible rather easily. Not so. In fact these very colors make it so beautifully camouflaged in the dry yellow and bark black of the jungle that it is hardly visible until it makes a movement. And then too it takes a trained eye to spot it. Secondly, if you miss seeing it at first, the next instant you see it out in the open as if materialized from the soil beneath it and it would dart away as suddenly too. It would seem not real then but an apparition. This is even more so with leopards. That is the reason why so many more people actually get to see the tiger than get to see the leopard. Because these animals are so well camouflaged, your guides tell you that for every one tiger that you see in the jungle, 10 have seen you!
The tigress was moving towards the kill. It probably could not bear to see the vultures degrading its kill. It broke cover now and made a sudden rush towards the kill and we were grateful that we had moved slightly away. And then while running it jumped and then again and once again! In three great jumps it arrived ON the kill. All through while running and during the three jumps the tail was raised and taut. And it was angry. The moment it arrived on the kill there was a rush among the vultures to get away. These tertiary predators ran, there was a veritable stampede and then they rose into the air – all of them almost all at once. The tigress stood on the kill and looked angrily all around. Its tail was still up. It looked at us, looked down at the kill, looked at the vultures which were now flying higher, looked at us, looked at the kill. It was a remonstration as well as an assertion that the kill was rightfully hers. Its gaze now fixed upon us.
“Why don’t we move a little forward?” I murmured.
“It is angry sahib. You don’t know what it will do if you make a move.”
“Nevertheless, why don’t we, just an inch may be then another,” It could have been highly foolish of me to think that way at that moment. But I wanted to see an angry tigress from as close a quarter as could be.
The tigress was still staring at us and its tail was still up. It had not as much as touched the kill so far. Probably it was in no mood to eat – it had only come to claim it back from the vultures. And with the vultures gone, it now probably wanted us gone too.
“Let’s move ahead slowly,” this from Dushyant Kumar, the naturalist. And with this, his jeep moved and so did ours.
We watched the tigress with a mixture of awe, and fearful expectation as to what it would do now. Would it charge? They rarely charge at humans but such things are not unheard of either.
We inched ahead. As we moved, a look of hesitation crossed the tigress' face. It looked down at the kill and then looked at us; then again down at the kill and then at us. We kept moving. As we came almost abreast of it and when our hearts thudded in our breasts, the tigress moved – away from us and the kill. A sigh escaped my mouth. The tigress retraced its steps and went back from where it had come. We kept on moving slowly and watched it till it disappeared into the overgrowth.
We kept on moving, crossed the entire meadow, and as we came to that part of the road passing between the dense jungle, to our right we saw the sambhar which had given the alarm call. It was standing between two dense bushes, its body taut with tension, its eyes fixed in the direction in which the tigress had gone, its rather short tail turned completely up and showing the white underneath it. Then it gave another alarm call. We kept on moving because we had to be at the gate before sunset. But this was another treat for us – we had heard the alarm call several times but had never seen a sambhar actually engaged in calling.
(It’s a pity that we did not have a camera with us. But we never take one. We have so far believed that it is best to capture the scenes on the magnetic tape of our minds. But since this scene, we have decided to buy one just so that others can watch what we have.)
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