“Ranthambhore was then a wildlife reserve in south-western Rajasthan, sprawling over 400 square kilometres. Its dry, steep cliffs, and the crumbling ruins of historic past dotted around, all merged in perfect harmony, a harmony that held me spellbound. The reserve derives its name from the fortress of Ranthambhore, over a hundred meters high and seven kilometres in circumference: the forest was, in times gone by, the private hunting reserve of the Maharaja of Jaipur. They would hunt tiger and other game for six weeks a year and for the rest of the time the area was protected. This saved it from complete destruction.

Nearly a thousand years old, the massive battlements of Ranthambhore enclose one of India’s most ancient fortresses. The control of this fortress was vital to the control of central India. Countless battles have raged around these walls and the great Mughal emperor Akbar laid siege here. Lake palaces, tombs, summer gardens, temples, mosques, step wells and hunting towers, all reminders of the past have now been overrun by grasses and shrubs, and mosses and lichens have carpeted the stone walls. Today leopards and tigers prowl the ruins.”

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It was the year 2003 when I read these words for the first time. Valmik Thapar, in his book ‘The Secret Life of Tigers ’, painted a paradise-like image of Ranthambhore for me. I had a craving to visit this paradise ever since. It finally happened five years later, in February 2008. I stumbled upon a website where a group called ‘Jungle Lore’ had advertised that they organise tours to Ranthambhore. I enrolled myself for the same around a week before the scheduled date and it was confirmed. I would be visiting Ranthambhore National Park for the first time.

With my college schedule making things tight, time constrains took much importance. Thus, I took a flight to Mumbai. My train tickets to Sawai Madhopur were booked by Jungle Lore as a part of the package. I met the rest of the group only at the Mumbai Central Railway Station. To my surprise, the group consisted of two couples who seemed like they were on their second honeymoon and three old ladies. The men in both the pairs were adventure freaks/photographers who had convincing addiction to cigarettes. The three old ladies spoke only amongst themselves and that too in Marathi. I had just begun to curse myself for my decision when there came along two gentlemen who vaguely fit the bill of ‘wildlife enthusiasts’. Thus, I befriended Sandeep Pulla and Rohit Narsinghani. Sandeep had come from Hyderabad and Rohit, an avid bird watcher, was from Mumbai.

We departed from Mumbai Central train station in the evening and arrived at Sawai Madhopur at around 10 am the following day. Everything about the little town of Sawai Madhopur begins to embed in you like you really belong there. And this feeling did not spare me. We dumped our luggage at the back of a Canter and found our seats. We drove through the road that led to our hotel resort, The Ranthambhore Forest Lodge. It was a well kept place with oddly aesthetic triangular buildings. Our rooms were welcoming and comfortable. The fact that I would finally be entering Ranthambhore that day, ‘Ranthambhore’- my mental image of paradise, kept me in a state of perpetual excitement. And it was time.

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The First Look:

The rackety canter arrived at the entrance of the hotel at around 2pm. The entire group was ushered into the vehicle while the Sun roasted the air around.  The extreme heat did not, in any which way, hinder the activities of the three old ladies. They continued their little chitter-chatter from the back seats of the vehicle.

We drove through the road that led to the entrance with glimpses of scrub lands, some birds and villagers on bikes and bicycles on either side. The canter came to a halt at the entrance. A large green board, glistening under the burning heat stood tall, welcoming the tourists to ‘Ranthambhore National Park’. As we drove in, the tourist guide began his routine explanation of the history, geography and diversity of the park. I sat gaping, and watched in awe the vivid sights that the forest had to offer. The road lined by Vindhya mountain range on one side and the Aravali range on the other side made the valley of Ranthambhore. A large assortment of birds welcomed us into the park. The dry golden grass, the barren trees, the dusty paths, the gigantic hills and the lakes of the area simply took over and left everyone speechless. The canter stopped and the guide pointed out a pair of Long-billed vultures sitting cosily in the crevice up on the rocky hill. The nest it housed slightly jutted out, giving us just about a glimpse of their little home. The park ride thereafter was not without spotting a wild herbivore every other second. Langurs looking at us with intrigue, Chital deer running this way and that, the Sambhars in their foraging frenzy, the Wild Boars-who as usual, could not care any less, the Nilgais and finally a pair of mongooses by a pond. Ranthambhore truly was a paradise. Although there was no sighting of a tiger, the ride was one of the most gratifying experiences of my life.

There were two more rides that followed, both on the next day. The morning ride was not unlike the first one. An array of birds flittered around, as if overjoyed by our visit. We got to see loads of herbivores but no sighting of the King himself. Nonetheless, I grew more fond of Ranthambhore with every passing minute.

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The Royal Encounter

The final ride into the park was with evident mounting expectations. It had already been two rides with no tiger sightings. Everyone in the group but for the three ladies was desperate. And we drove that afternoon. The same road to Ranthambhore, the same entrance, the same bunch of noisy tourists around and the same level anticipation. Our guide picked zone 3 and we heard from drivers around that the sighting had happened that morning in the very same zone. It gave us all the more reason to sit on the edge of our seats and strain our eyes to spot anything that would vaguely look orange.

Zone 3 is the smallest of the five tourist zones in Ranthambhore. The route, however, includes the beautiful lakes of Ranthambhore – Padam, Malik and Rajbagh. Malik Talao is the smallest of the tree and perhaps the easiest place to spot a Marsh crocodile. Rajbagh stands second in line, with ancient ruins at its bank. One can catch some Sambhars lazing around the lake or a herd of Spotted deer quenching thirst in the mid-day’s heat. Padam Talao is the largest and the most beautiful one. The earthy red coloured ‘Jogi Mahal’- the olden days’ rest house of the Maharajahs, stands still at one end. The Tigers of the surrounding territories seem to love this lake. It was also the favourite spot of the legendary Tigress Machli – also called the ‘Lady of the Lake’. She is known to have fought and killed a Marsh crocodile in the lake as well.

Presently, we were driving past Padam Talao when we saw two other gypsies and one canter halted along the path. The tourists were standing up and a few of them were evidently taking photographs of something on our left. We drove ahead and joined the rest of the vehicles. Towards our left, on the banks of Padam, under the shade of a tree she rested with her beautiful long back towards us, a blazing fiery orange pelage and an astonishing pattern of black stripes. The tigress was in the middle of her afternoon slumber. And thus, I saw my first tiger in the wild.

Ranthambhore, being Ranthambhore would not let me go with just that. At a little distance from her sat one of her sub-adult cubs. Equally gorgeous, she was a queen in the making. After around ten minutes, the young tigress got up, walked over to her mother, exchanged nudges and settled for her share of a nap. As if all this was not gratifying enough, the second cub, another sub-adult tigress showed herself towards our right side. Evidently being used to tourists and vehicles, she walked across the forest path, right in front of our canter, posed for photographs and strolled towards her mother. I was overwhelmed.

Although the entire experience left me overjoyed, there was another aspect of the entire incident that began to trouble me. The tourist vehicles around us as we watched the tigers increased with every passing second. The people in brightly coloured attires yelled and screamed, pointing at the animal. There was utter chaos. Some VIP vehicles even drove right towards the animal. Ranthambhore’s tigers have gotten very used to human presence. Increasing pressures of tourism has left the tigers in a semi-tame state. This thought left me wondering that if tourism is the only way to save tigers and this is what tourism does to them, then whether there is any hope for wild tigers at all.

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Royal Ranthambhore and a picky Langur

The name of the Tiger reserve itself is derived from the fort that stands tall in the heart of the forest- The Ranthambhore fort. It is a charming old structure that has been retained as a heritage site. The fort also houses a temple on the top which is known to get over half a lakh pilgrims and tourists every year.

On the last day of the tour, a visit to the mighty fort was scheduled. We had to drive through the entrance of the park to get to it and on reaching the entrance of the fort, a large tall door welcomed us inside. After various levels of maze-like steps and corridors, we finally reached the top. The view was spectacular, with the jungle sprawling outwards from the foot of the fort. Padam Lake looked like a piece of mirror on a green carpet and the Red Jogi Mahal caught everyone’s attention.

The three of us, Sandeep, Rohit and I made to the top and walked towards the temple. Large troupes of Langur were seen all over the top of the fort. Although most of them seemed to be in the middle of their daily routines of mock fights, lazing around, looking at tourists with intrigue and grooming each other, some of them also kept an eye out for people carrying food stuff with them. These droll primates can be rather nasty and will snatch food items from your hand with ease.

Rohit had his camera in hand and I carried Salim Ali’s Field Guide of Indian Birds. We were walking towards the temple when we noticed that a Langur was walking towards us. Although it was a rather common thing, something about this Langur was uncanny. He did not look away when we looked at him in the eye. He continued walking towards us and upon reaching us, stood up on his hind feet and snatched the book from my hand. I stood there, blank faced, wondering what a Langur would possibly want a Bird guide for. Rohit and Sandeep stared at the primate with equal amusement. To make things stranger, the Langur saw the cover of the book, looked back at my face and placed it back in my hand. He then walked away with a look of utter nonchalance.

To be criticised for choice of books is one thing. Being looked down upon for the same reason by a Langur is simply preposterous. Still amused, we walked away towards our destination.

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The ‘Rathore’ and his eye

Fateh Singh Rathore is an ex-Field Director of Ranthambhore. He has seen the sanctum through its glory for several rains. Post-retirement, he began an NGO called TIGER WATCH. The organisation, nearly a decade old now, has to its credit several anti-poaching activities and success stories. My short trip also included a visit to ‘Tiger Watch’ office.

‘Maa Farm’ – property of Mr.Rathore, was where the office was located, adjoining his residence. A wide gate opened right at the roadside and further led to a long drive way. The muddy drive way had bushes and thickets on both sides. En route was a large lawn on the left and finally the road ends at the huge dull-red colored house. We just about reached the house when Mr.Rathore was leaving for a drive. The words in Thapar’s book that described this man appeared as a picture in front of me. And it fit. The green hat – folded up on one side, the dark colored glasses, the dusky complexion and a white moustache that curled up at both ends; the stature and youthful walk. It was him alright. I stopped and stared at him. And that’s about it. I stared with the silliest smile on my face. He came over and cheerfully wished us. Humbly, he took leave and drove away in his jeep. And I stood there, staring, smiling. Rohit nudged me and it was only then that I came out of my trance. What followed was my first look at TIGER WATCH and also a rather insignificant meeting with one Dr.Dharmendra Khandal.

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So that was my very first visit to Ranthambhhore. I wish to conclude with a few lines I wrote owing to my fond memories of the park:

The Kings once ruled

Those arid lands

They fought with might

And able hands..

The Sun looms high

Roasting the dusty plains

Gold and brown summer

Emerald green as it rains..

The Langur and Deer in synchrony

Blue skies where Vultures soar

The Tiger now rules the land

Here be paradise, in Royal Ranthambhore.

This one is for the Panicky Chitals, Glutton Sambhars, Belligerent Nilgais, Picky Langurs and the Majestic Tigers of the Vindhyas and Aravalis. This one is for my first visit to Ranthambhore

Rainbows have always fascinated me. Although I admire colors as such, the reason I like rainbows is not merely for the blend of hues; for it is the concept that I appreciate. By conventional belief, they are formed by droplets of rain suspended in air, conveying the message of the Sun’s arrival in a stupendous manner. They are like entrance arches that welcome you to a new place. They convey the change that happens. ‘Change’ is when you know it. A pleasant change leaves a lasting impression on the mind and soul.

This ‘change’ for me, I believe happened through my life at Christ College [now Christ University], Bangalore. I enrolled myself at Christ for an undergraduate course with Chemistry, Botany and Zoology as my subjects. Although my aim was to seek academic excellence in one of the leading colleges in the country, I was showered with much more than what I had bargained for. Life at Christ was not just a three year academic course. It was an experience. I wish to convey the various aspects of my life at Christ and the relevant changes through the three years of bliss.

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Violet Side- Simply me

The first color of the visual spectrum and a color I feel deeply associated with. It is a color that signifies the crown chakra; the sense of self having eliminated false illusions. It begins as flimsy lavender and moves to gather strength. The transition is when it morphs into a shade of mauve and realises its place. It then grows stronger and ends as violet.

Through my first year I was not unlike the first phase of violet. Flimsiness was apparent in all my thoughts and actions. I had come with a set of made up walls and ideas and failed to realise that the real world has little space for such walls. Brawls with Vivek or arguments with Shiv, I would get easily agitated, react unnecessarily and speak thoughtlessly. My limitations in terms of both psychological as well as applied rational paradigms made me flimsy lavender of a person.

The second year, however, things began to fall in place. Now that I think back, I remember things getting sorted out in my head. My priorities and my ideas changed. I suddenly seemed to ‘know’ how to handle myself. I became aware and conscious of not only the people around me but also the ideas and personas that came with them. My goals were now set and I seemed to know two steps ahead for every direction that I had to move in.

The third year brought me to the final stage of strength and confidence. I had braved through things I was unsure of and I no longer hesitated to go beyond the walls that I had built for myself. I passed out of college with no regrets and with a feeling of self assurance that I had done good. There, today I feel like I’m a purple!

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Indigo Moods- The darker times

The color Indigo represents something rich yet gloomy. It signifies strength and power. It is the darkest of all the colors in the spectrum. It begins dark and enigmatic, filters to a rather pleasant royal blue and finally terminates as a soothing sky blue.

Every part of college life is fun. The only thing, however, that might not completely fit the bill is that of the faculty and management. You know that they are in-charge. You know they have the power. Any individual who can foresee consequences would do his best to avoid anything that might put him in the bad books of the faculty. The first year, it was a tad scary. I knew the faculty members only by names and the management only by reputation. I dared not to flout the rules. I entirely fit the role of a ‘good student’. Bunking classes was a rather rare occurrence. Seeking permissions for almost every move made, I thought was mandatory.

The second year was rather relaxed and laid back. I began to relate to our lecturers as individuals and not as teachers as such. Like everyone else, I identified the cheat’s way out for nearly every issue with a teacher. The year passed with an unspoken peace treaty with the faculty.

The third year, being the final one, gave us a level of freedom. Most professors, including a few unimaginable ones had become more of friends than teachers. Although the regular drill of classes sustained boredom, there were at least some exceptions every now and then. Today, I am glad that I can go back to college and still get that pleasant and hearty smile from my teachers.

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Blue Benevolence- The good times

Blue is consistency. Blue is benevolent calmness. The third color of spectrum, it remains more or less the same throughout. The pleasant times in all the three years came in bits and pieces and sometimes hidden and morphed.

The first year, we spent time in groups when we were appointed volunteers for department fests and had to stay back after college hours to make arrangements. It came in those times in between yelling and shouting during dance practices with the Kaal team. It came while managing to understand some teachers and getting used to their accents.

The second year it came when we were accompanied by the most charming set of juniors while doing the same kind of work. It came when I practised and participated in dumb charades with Vivek and Abhijna. It came during lighter moments of street plays and performances. It came when we tried shooting a movie with a bad set of actors and an even worse director. It came while sharing long hours of deep conversations with Greeny.

In the final year it came while we practised and performed as the mime and spoof team – Pseudolamellibranchiata. It came with my last dance with Sonia. It came while watching the antics of the Burkha girls and it came during lunch breaks and those five minutes between two class hours.

Those that passed off as mere moments when I was living it will now live as memories forever.

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Green Army- Time for Beasts and Flowers

Fourth in line comes the color Green. It represents pleasant health and prosperity. Green is the natural world. Green is what my class unanimously stood for.

Through first year, it seemed like the entire class was highly enthusiastic about environmental issues. So much was the amount of interest and energy that we honestly planned to form a group and called ourselves PAWS. PAWS definitely saw some weird and ugly times. As a part of the Green Army, the treks definitely require a mention.

The second year saw regrouping and re-establishment of like-minded individuals. Sujay, Vishnupriya and I stuck to venturing out and get into wildlife tours and workshops. That did not, however, stop the rest of the class. We came together again during science week, teamed up with the juniors and put up the most unimaginable street play; conveying the message of deforestation, climate change and animal rights. The weekends we spent at Valley school added to the green experience.

The third year gave me the both the King Cobra telemetry project as well as the Gharial Expedition, satiating all my cravings for contributing towards wildlife conservation at that stage. I honestly believe that these three years played a major role in shaping up the initial stages of my career.

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Yellow Blooms- like the flowers by the Christ pond

Yellow stands fifth in the array and is perhaps the most attractive one. The Mayans gave the color much importance and associated it with anything precious and valuable. The color longs for purity and any change in it becomes heavily evident. I draw parallels between this and the campus of Christ. It is perhaps one of the best campuses in the city. It boasts of a clean and green campus and it is not untrue.

The first year kept me in awe as I was new to the campus. Everything about it had something to appreciate. The mesmerising cultural events along with sleep inducing day-long functions of the main auditorium, the occasional eat-out at the Cafeteria, the long hours of photocopying in the Ivy hall, the trademark Christ walkway lined by trees on both sides, the large parking lot, the home turf – main block, the alternative class- second block, the Library, the old food court by the football field that gave us so many happy times, the islands and the pebble park, perks at the kiosk and those fresher’s and farewells at the Birds’ Park.

Through the second year, the old food court no longer existed, it was brought down. We made peace with the new one in the Basketball court. Most of our lab records were completed there and I credit the place for the inspiration it gave. The parking lot was gone; it would become a new building now.

The third year, Christ College- Autonomous- September 2005 became Christ University. The audio visual announcing the new status of the institution boomed every now and then when we sat through programs in the main auditorium. Christ as we knew it was changing and not many of us liked the idea.

For one last time however, the Cul-Team of 2009 shot to fame with organising In-Bloom- the annual inter collegiate cultural festival. The entire campus was decked up to resemble a village Mela and for once, the event brought out a festive look. Today, the campus continues to change and the only regret is that it fails to trigger nostalgia when revisited.

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Orange zest – like the Pondicherry Sun

Orange is energy. It signifies potential to reach the unimaginable and achieving the unthinkable. Energy, for me, is what the college cultural team personified.

SPANDAN, the inter-collegiate cultural fest of JIPMER, Pondicherry, is the only out-station festival in which the university CUL-TEAM officially participates. The first year, of course, everything was new. With only one other person in the lot of 70 students being a first year, saying I was ‘lost’ would be an understatement. From the very beginning I kept to myself. I would sit silently in a corner and speak only upon being spoken to. No one knew as to why I was there. We reached JIPMER campus at around 5 a.m. and were eventually established in our respective accommodation sites. Through the week long stay, it wouldn’t be wrong if the place was called a cultural haven. The true spirit of being a ‘CHRISTITE’ blossomed in every one of us. A sense of pride, a patriotic feeling found its genesis in everyone. We won the over-all trophy.

The second year again I got to revisit the place. This time was much better, one of the reasons being I was one of those in the group who had ‘been there, done that’. The entire team bonded better than the previous time. The moments we shared when we got together and worked on the WALL-MAG[an event] all night long, cheered madly as a mob when our teams performed on stage and basically every instant we spent together as a team, are simply priceless. We won almost every event. We bagged the trophy again.

The third year in Pondy was plainly the CHERRY on the cake. This time as the ‘Art representative’ and with a major chunk of my class in the Pondy team, it was undoubtedly the most joyous victory ever! The first four days of the week, we won nothing at all. We cried foul several times, blaming the organizers, the other teams and basically everything else related. Event after event we continued to lose. Hesitantly we reminded ourselves, the oath we had taken back in college, to bring the trophy back. We feared the mishap. Depressed inside, it was too clear on our faces to be said out loud. It was however the skit by ‘Passion of the Christite’ that changed it all. The brilliant performance turned the tables for the entire team. With the spirit of the cul-team revoked, it triggered a huge chain of victories thereafter. We began to bag the prizes; multiple prizes in every event. We had won the trophy again, that too, a new one! So we returned, keeping our word after all; not with one, but TWO trophies.

The three years have passed eventfully and I will no longer visit Pondicherry the way I have been visiting so far. The time spent with everyone from the Cul team remains invaluable. I imagine myself, years from now, feeling blissfully nostalgic when I visit Pondicherry or JIPMER again.

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Blazing Red – a cherry on the cake

Red is something that tops it all. It represents intense passion, love and rage. Red is conquest gratified. I find justice in comparing the color to my class.

The best part of life at Christ was definitely my class. I cannot speak for other classes, but this strange one, until then considered an underdog, rose to miraculous levels of excellence. A multitude of talents came together to form the unit.

The first year had many faces who quit the course. They perhaps missed out on something. From highest GPA scorers to singers, musicians and artists to actors and speakers; Dancers and performers to adventure freaks. We had it all. However, it was the unity of the class that stood out the most.

Through distinctions and departmental fests in first year, street plays and cultural fests in the second year and the amazing trip to Kerala and every single event that took place in third year; we soared through it all. I have already written about this amazing set of people in my earlier posts. Putting them in words would be far too limiting for the kind of people I shared the three years of my life with. So I shall end this with nothing more to say.

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Those three years at Christ were the most assuring, rich, soothing, prosperous, pure, zestful and gratifying years of my life till date. This to me is ‘being colourful’. The things I would give up, to have one last fight with Vivek over a petty issue, one last argument with Shiv, one last lab practical class, one last dance with Sonia, one last trek with the Green Army, one last session of completing records in a hurry- sitting on the basketball court benches, one last trip to Pondicherry with the cul-team, one last lecture with my entire class in the dungeon museum class of ours.

The change happened; and what a change it was. Like it happens in the real world, there will be more Rainbows again. It just won’t be the same one.

Bhadra Wildlife Sanctuary is a picturesque green heaven situated amidst the Western Ghats in Chikmagalur and Shimoga districts of Karnataka. It is surrounded by lofty hill ranges of Mullaianagiri, Hebbegiri, Gangegiri, Bababudangiri. And also the picturesque Bhadra River and its tributaries like Somavahini, Thadabehalla and Odirayanahalla. The ‘Bhadra Wildlife Sanctuary’ was earlier known by the name of Jagara Valley Wildlife Sanctuary. The reserve consists of two main areas, Mutthodi and Lakkavalli.

My visit to Bhadra during the first week of September 2009, still a part of Dr. Krithi’s project, was the last of my six national park marathon. I was a part of it only for the last two of the total six days.

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Drained Arrival

A six and a half hour journey from Bangalore and I reach the town of Chikmagalore at around 1 pm. Having made repeated calls to Krithi, I managed to find my way around to the little bus stop where I had to wait for a second bus. The place where I had to get to, called ‘Kaaranji’ was all the way nearly on the other side of the mountain and an easy 2 hour ride from Chikmagalore. After two hours at the smaller bus stop, the tiny bus finally arrived. It was a private bus, visibly not in the best of conditions. Confirming that it was headed towards ‘Uluvatthi’, I found myself a seat at the rear end of the bus. The road that connected Chikmagalore to my destination was perhaps the worst one I’ve ever seen. While most parts of it had artistically placed potholes, the rest of it could hardly be called a ‘road’. So there I sat, at the rear end of the bus, for nearly two hours while being tossed around this way and that. The pungent smell of hair oil from this strange man who sat beside me only added to the experience.

I got off the little excuse of a ‘transport’ at crossroads. From this ‘Kaaranji Gate’, I was to walk a kilometer or so to reach my destination – Huli Kaanu. Huli Kaanu is an estate owned by eminent conservationist Dr. Ullas Karanth. A part of the land houses a field station under the Center for Wildlife Studies [CWS]. After the draining two hour bus ride, I slowly walked in the direction of the estate asking every soul that came along for further directions. Luckily some heaven-sent tractor came along and the driver offered to give me a ride till Huli Kaanu. So the rest of the distance took less than five minutes to cover but not without the rear-vibrating ‘dhood-dhood’ing tractor.

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Two days and more

The actual field work with me as a part of it happened for two days. On the first day, we went ground truthing with the team consisting of Krithi, Prakash and myself. We drove towards Bababundangiri and it was perhaps one of the best road routes I have seen. We drove through brilliantly colored green mountains- parts of them covered in thick bottle green forest canopies and the rest flaunting glistening green grass. Large patches of ‘Sholas’ stretched across gigantic valleys. The Shola grasslands are truly one of nature’s wonders. The dew had set in on them through the night and presently, the pleasant morning sun gave them a glossy sheen. Wisps of clouds and mist rose from the large mountains making every sight in every direction almost picture perfect. The best one, however was a tiny lake that we found at the very summit of the mountain. Alternately covered by heavy clouds and sunshine, it remains one of the most amazing sights of India that I have seen till date.

Day two was the last day of field work for the four month long project. The ground truthing team was what Krithi claims to be her ‘dream team’. It consisted of people she had befriended in all the parks; Prakash, Amith, Praveen and myself. So with five eccentric people in one little jeep, things were bound to go crazy. The four of us sang songs at the top of our voices throughout the eight hour long ground truthing session. Krithi admits being so embarrassed as to contemplating on whether she should jump off the jeep. All in all, it was the best session from all the six parks that I volunteered in.

I went to Bhadra prepared for a three day long stay. Changes in plan occurred when Krithi informed us about her parents visiting the estate and that we should stay back and enjoy a couple of days more to celebrate the end of her ten park field work. And thus we saw the arrival of Keya, Krithi’s adorable two year old daughter, and, her parents – The Karanths.

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Meet the Karanths

Krithi’s daughter Keya is one of those really rare kids that I can afford to handle. She is an almost no-tantrum kid who is as much in love with the natural world as is the rest of her family. The fair little ball of a child left no option for anyone who met her but to fall in love with her. It was indeed pleasing to see how trifling things like bugs, leaves, twigs, sticks, butterflies and birds fascinated the little one.

While Mr. Ullas Karanth himself flaunted that aura of a highly knowledgeable person, his wife was a charming lady who carried with her an air of elegance. They were staying a little away from the research station, in a beautiful house on stilts. Every time that they visited the station where we were put up, it was evident that everyone got conscious and moved around with a complex. Eventually however, we all managed to calm down. We spent so much time with little Keya that everything about her became somewhat important to us; these included her entire range of various stuffed toys, their names and the fact that she called her grandparents ‘Tata’ and ‘Dodda’ compelled us to refer to them with the same names. Thus, they became Tata and Dodda for all of us.

One of the days we planned to go for the jungle ride into the Sanctuary. It was Keya’s first time into a jungle. So there we were, Vishnupriya, Praveen, myself and three generations of Karanths, all packed in a gypsy. We drove around the park and through some strange irony or a streak of terrible luck, all we saw was one Chital and one mongoose.

Hush hush and Wet blankets

The days we spent in the field station after the field work got over definitely deserves a mention. We were bound by some strange unwritten and unannounced curfew. While all of us longed to sit through the night and enjoy lengthy conversations, the lights would be switched off by 10 pm and the people in-charge would hit the sack. The rest of us would huddle up in the corridor and whisper to each other until our ears gave in. Yet, we managed to spend three nights this way. Although most of what was said went unheard by few of us, we managed to laugh and giggle at any noise we heard.

High levels of humidity and the rainy season added to make the place extremely cold in the night. Even though there were rugs around, one or two of them would magically get picked everyday and would become completely wet. No one knew how these warm rugs turned into leaky blankets. Not unlike some lucky raffle, one of us would end up with the chosen leaky rug. The water absorbing rugs of Bhadra still remain a mystery.

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The Team

The team this time had almost nothing new. With almost every member who had already volunteered in another park before, it had only a couple of new ones. It had Soujanya from Ranthambhore, Amith from Periyar-Bandipur-Mudumalai, Praveen from Bandipur-Mudumalai-Nagarahole, Prakash from Kanha-Pench and Vishnupriya from Dandeli-Anshi. Three new faces, Vikas, Sunil and Laxmeesha added to that and Bhadra team was the craziest of all the teams from ten parks. While Vikas had already left by the time I arrived, Sunil and Laxmeesha’s presence went unnoticed amidst the antics of the rest of the team.

To the misty mountains, cloudy roads, emerald rainforests and a final goodbye to field work.

This one is for Krithi’s team of Bhadra

They say it took God seven days to make paradise. I find it hard to believe. I do, however believe that there was magic; there was a magician. She was a mystery herself – yet the most beautiful magician in all the seven worlds.

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She stood there, having positioned herself right; she would not endure imperfection. She took her time and groomed herself, for she knew she would be admired so. She made herself up boisterously. Her actions were succinct. She first drowned herself in massive waters and then sat in a blazing furnace. The years went by and she only grew more beautiful. Everyone who knew of her also knew that she was one of a kind. Some envied in secrecy yet managed to appreciate and applaud. Enigmatic as her abysmal waters, tender as the lily petals in her meadows; strong as the towering cliffs and enchanting as her emerald greens. Mystique was her act. She made her own audience; she made paradise. Maaya.

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But it just had to happen. One of her creations – he stepped aside. He looked at her and presumed he could do much better. That day he made rules for himself, betraying her.  A cascade of blunders began and we continue to witness. He was a mistake.

We, his descendants, have broken down what she gave us. We wander with a delusion that we can create better. We are at recombining her creations at random and calling them ‘inventions’.

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Our very present is a bible of mistakes. Our species has effortlessly forgotten the very purpose of existence. It commences with shamelessly declaring ourselves to be the superior creatures. This, slowly topped with thoughtless unforeseen extreme empathy for our kin and ultimately treating anything other than humans to either be of benefit for the race, and if not beneficial then being completely worthless makes ‘us’ perhaps the most foolish of all earthlings. Befriending ‘self’ was the first mistake.

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We have made our rules. We have made our own walls and our own boundaries. And with these continual walls and rules came the lawmakers. The lawmakers produced protectors and the protectors planted seeds for hierarchy. The ‘self’ part of us took over and made us hungry and desperate for power and position. Today, we all struggle amidst this induced bureaucracy. We find it easy to label it as ‘politics’ and blissfully fake ignorance. Befriending ‘greed’ was the second mistake.

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We have always gone out of our way to make sure that another human life is not lost. Seldom does one ponder the purpose of this act. We have hospitals and doctors who are saving thousands of lives as this very moment passes. Any calamity, natural or unnatural, we make all the effort to ensure that our fellow humans survive through it. We have made a system where the disabled, the orphans, the homeless, the helpless – everyone who is visibly unfit to survive gets a chance to thrive in the world. And yet we are the same ones who complain of over population and population explosion. When a major chunk of the mass has no water to drink, we plan to burst open the moon to bring more water. We fail to consider controlling our numbers in terms of population. We have reached a stage where even questioning this empathetic system of ours would seem inhuman. Six billion humans in the world and still we find the death of a couple of us to be disturbing. It has been religiously, traditionally and culturally inscribed in us that doing a good deed begins with lending our hand for the one in need of it. Befriending ‘empathy’ was the third mistake.

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It is not the first time that we are learning about our blunders. Time and again it has been announced and not without a loud voice. Every single creation of ours has been a destructive one. We have made ways to move around without having to put an effort. We have made cars and buses – each one in competence to poison our air. We developed a crazy desire to ‘create’. We made buildings, factories and industries – each one in competence to poison our waters. In this little tale of our own, one hundred thousand people have died in the previous year due to road accidents – and this is in India alone. Hundreds lose their vital organs due to firecracker mishaps every year. Cigarettes claim more lives a year than natural deaths. Yet, we do not seem to have problem with any of these. In a world with a few thousand of its kin, a wild animal strays out of the jungle and kills one human – every effort is made to either kill it or capture it and sentencing it to permanent imprisonment. ‘Ignorance of far-sightedness’ was the fourth mistake.

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It is definitely not agreeable that the mistakes did not raise a few voices. We all have gone through school and ‘education’ trying to tell us that we are erring. We know of climate change, we know of pollution, we know of the contamination of our environment, we know of the continuing deterioration of the natural world. One is forced to question as to why none of the initiatives taken against the brutality is making a difference. While a very few voices are raised against the injustice, the rest are in a rat race towards selfish lives with pleasure and comforts. It does not take a genius to figure out the reason for the failure of these voices. Befriending ‘Negligence’ was the fifth mistake.

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Darwin’s theory of ‘Natural Selection’, as I see it, will take a nasty morph in the near future. The theory, once applicable to the entire living population will so forth be exclusively seen in humans. The over prodigality is already in place. The variety has been brought about by the kind of lives we lead, revolving solely around our earthly possessions. The ones with money dominate and the have-nots see each passing day as a challenge. The farmers continue to die in large numbers with poverty taking over. The rich ones bathing in glamour-filled lives are fit enough to survive. Only this theory would be called ‘Monetary Selection’.

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Maaya is said to have appeared time and again in the guise of a human to correct her blundered offsprings. Some of us called them ‘Gods’, others called them ‘Messengers’ and ‘Angels’. We succeeded in worshiping them dutifully – either blindly or thoughtlessly. But we failed miserably to follow what they came to impart. We have failed to understand the parable that each one of Maaya’s incarnates tried to bequeath.

Maaya’s child, the green one said “I wish to grow higher”
Maaya’s child, the second one said “I wish to go further”

She let it swim in the sea; it looked at the land
Said “I want to move away, lend me your hand”

She helped it onto the sand, let it slither and hop
Said “I want to glide away, take me higher up”

She gave it legs and let it run; gave it wings and let it fly
She then made one mistake; all he said was “WHY”

She knew she had erred and amidst her love to develop
She saw her death coming and mournfully, she gave up.

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She sits there sideways, in nudity, with white linen wrapped around her waist. Her long hair ending in delicate curls cascading till the middle of her back. Blood is seen in glorious scarlet, dripping slowly down her back. It spreads evidently as it touches the white linen at her waist. She has been stabbed. She will now face the brunt of her mistake. He will first put her through the blazing furnace and eventually manage to drown her in her massive waters. As she sat there, she sees her son approach grimly; in a sooty hooded robe and a scythe clasped in his hand. Following him is Lady Death, her attire extravagantly made with blood and rot. She has that vicious glee in her eyes. The man, to behead his mother, raises his scythe – fails to realize he is next on Lady Death’s list.

The Dandeli Anshi Tiger Reserve[DATR] is a tiger reserve in Karnataka, sprawling over an area of 875 sq km in the Western Ghats in Uttara Kannada district. The ‘Tiger Reserve’ comprises of two protected areas – Dandeli Wildlife Sanctuary and Anshi National Park that are contiguous to each other and form a single tract of protected area. In the entire region of Northern Karnataka these are the only two protected areas located in lush green and diverse forest area.

The undulating streams, bamboo groves, diverse wildlife and innumerable trekking trails make it a dream destination. River Kali and its tributaries, Kaneri and Nagajhari, meander through the moist deciduous and semi-evergreen forests. The Dandeli forests also play host to the graceful Virnoli Rapids, the magnificent Supa Dam, the sinister Syntheri Rocks, Nagajhari Viewpoint, the Kulgi Nature Education Camp, and the Kavla Caves with its Shivling-like stalagmite and Sykes Point, which offers a stunning view of the Kali Valley. Anshi forests also offer quite a different experience with typical evergreen forests rich in Amphibians, Reptiles, Avifauna and a wide variety of elusive mammals.

I visited DATR in the month of August 2009, again, as a part of Dr.Krithi Karanth’s project. While I was still working around Nagarhole, my short trip to these lush green forests of Uttara Kannada was a much needed break. With one volunteer dropping out, cancellations in train ticket, inevitable mix ups and an evident share of confusions, my visit to DATR got confirmed. I rushed back to Bangalore and got ready to leave with the rest of the team on the very next day.

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The Sheep-jeep

Only six of us ended up going by train to Hubli. A jeep was booked before our arrival itself, which would take us to Dandeli and further serve as our vehicle for ground truthing. Dandeli is a two hour drive from Hubli town.

When we got to the railway station, we ran around in the parking lot, looking for our jeep. To our surprise, the ‘jeep’ that we rented was more of a vehicle that would transport cattle around the city; or so it appeared. It was a reddish brown colored jeep with a seat in the front and a middle row. But the backside was open and had grills on all sides. So the six of us drove through the towns, leaving many heads turned, for we looked like a bunch of people on a mission to end cattle trade in Hubli. In my head, I named this vehicle of ours, ‘Sheep-jeep’.

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The Sock-ness Monster

Our stay was booked at Kulgi Nature Camp – a beautiful resort run by the Karnataka Forest Department. The entrance with a big arch led to a wide staircase. The steps eventually opened up into a large lawn. All around the lawn were rather fancy tents, each one named after different birds common to that area. The tents were not the typical basic structures. They had comfy beds, a little cupboard, a table and they opened out into a rather clean bathroom at the rear end. Kulgi Nature camp was a calm pleasant place.

After the first day’s work we were back in our tents to freshen up. We put on our floaters and went out for a night walk. The dinner happened thereafter, all in benevolent humor. After a rather peaceful night, I find one of my socks missing. I had rolled them both up and put them in one shoe each the previous evening. How could only one of them have gone missing? I marched up and down in that little tent, with a sock on one foot, worried, and haplessly looking around for the missing sock. Did I put the other sock somewhere else by mistake? I questioned myself this way and that to test all possibilities. Nothing seemed to solve the mystery. Being my regular self, I announced it out to the rest of the group that my sock was missing and that I almost felt like Cinderella.

It was getting late and we had to start the day’s work. I grabbed a random sock and put it on. Later during the day, I learnt from Girish – a field staff of CWS in DATR, that there are mice in the tents of the nature camp. And when I explained to him about my missing sock, this was the conversation that followed:

Me: One of my socks went missing! There aren’t any rodents in the tents are there?

Girish: Of course there are. There are rats in that place and they run all over the place at night.

Me: Why do you think it took my sock??

Girish: It must be a female. It’s probably building a nest. She will be laying babies in your sock.

Me: Tch! And this is a regular problem here?

Girish: Yes it is! They have bitten through our bags several times when we have stayed in the tents. They do it mostly when they smell snacks and biscuits in the bags.

Me: Spare me! Is there anyway we can stop them from biting into our bags??

Girish: We generally leave the bags open so that they don’t have to bite through them.

Me: > puzzled look <

Girish obviously was not aware of his talent in plaintive humor. But the mother rat in our tent seemed to have too much brains for her kin. She would somehow switch on the light inside our tent during the evenings. Although she took away my sock, for some unexplainable reason, I remain glad for having lived in her presence during my stay in DATR.

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The best and worst of it

The second day in DATR, I got to go ground truthing. It was one of the most amazing road routes as we passed through many forest patches, serene and secluded villages, mountains in every hue of blue, several waterfalls – the best one being Magod falls, the Kaiga area with the nuclear power plant, the Kaiga Dam and many more.

During the afternoon, the clouds descended and we got a taste of Dandeli rains. We were driving along the mountain roads when the rains took over and the entire surrounding was just shiny white. We could see nothing beyond a couple of meters from the sheep-jeep. Foggy wet roads, the chill in the wind and some good music that was playing in the jeep stereo put us all in an ecstatic mood. It was however the longest ground-truthing day that I have been on.

The volunteer team of DATR was the most sane and silent team of Krithi’s. While two ‘Santosh’s added a bit of confusion, Chinna remained more or less unavailable for most comments. This time round, Vishnupriya was on the team and so was Amith [from the Periyar team]. Meeting Girish [ not the same Girish from the rat story; there were two ‘Girish’s as well] and befriending him was quite a pleasant twist in the tale; for, in the prelude he wanted to kill me.

The forest cover of DATR is perhaps the best of its kind that I have seen. Towering teak trees, moist deciduous and finally semi-evergreen forests stretch obliquely to make up the reserve. Since the entire reserve is included within the Joida taluk, there is a lot of human habitation well within the forest area. The amount of research work done in DATR is far less compared to the other protected areas in Karnataka. In fact, DATR does not even have a well defined park boundary yet. There is rampant hunting and poaching that happens in and around the park; which is said to have come down in the recent times.

It is a pity that I got to spend a mere two and a half days only at DATR. It remains one of the places that I would surely want to visit again in the coming years, atleast to get a glimpse of a black panther for which this place is in fame.

This one is for the Mama rat of Kulgi, the Sheep-jeep of Hubli and the misty mountains of DATR. This one is for Krithi’s team of Dandeli-Anshi.

There are people all over the world facing various problems – big, small, simple, complicated, inevitable and self-made ones at that. But some problems exist which do not wholly fit the definition. I shall try and elaborate one such dubious issue on the sorry state of the people around an Indian forest where human-animal conflict does not seem to have a solution. I shall tell you the stories from Rajiv Gandhi National park.

Nagarhole National Park, also known as “Rajiv Gandhi National Park”, is located 94 km from Mysore in Karnataka in Southern India. It is spread between Coorg and Mysore districts. Located to the northwest of Bandipur National Park, Kabini reservoir separates the two. The exclusive hunting reserve of the former rulers of Mysore, the park has rich forest cover, small streams, valleys, and waterfalls. It stretches over 640 km², protecting the wildlife of Karnataka. Together with the adjoining Bandipur National Park and Mudumalai National Park, it forms the largest protected area in southern India.

My work around this park was as a Research assistant in Dr. Krithi Karanth’s project during August 2009. It extended for about a month and involved interviewing the local people from the villages around the national park. The interview involved documenting benefits of tourism and animal related conflicts in these villages.  I had always read quite a lot about man-animal conflict being a major problem around forests. But for the first time, I got to witness through my own eyes, the gravity of the issue. Nagarahole National park may be vaguely divided into two halves- the left [Coorg district] and the right [Mysore district]. While the left half with dense forests forms the eastern mountains of the Western Ghats, the right half is less dense and slowly gradients into semi-scrub at the extreme.

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Gaurs [‘Kaati’ in Kannada]

Gaurs or often incorrectly called as ‘Bisons’ are the largest species of wild cattle in the world. The largest population of gaurs in the world is found in India. Their appearance is almost like that of a domestic cow; only better built and with added charisma. Sporting a large and heavy built, with a pelt of glistening ebony and a pair of gorgeous horns that majestically rise and curve towards the end, they look no less than a group of thugs. But the lower half of their legs being milky white makes it appear as if they are wearing delicate linen socks. They usually move around in herds and the movement is not without a certain amount of grace. Altogether, they look like a bunch of thugs who are all set to go ballet dancing. When you are in the jungle and manage to make your presence known to them, they inquisitively rise their heads and look at you cocky eyed, giving the most adorable expression on their faces.

I spent the first half of the month on the Coorg side of the park and all the people living in the villages on that side seemed to have two problems- Elephants and Gaurs. Every person whom I spoke to complained of damages caused by these two herbivores being a massive problem that could not possibly be solved by anyone.

The gaurs come in large herds, silently, and destroy titanic amounts of planted crops. Although they are shy creatures who would generally scoot at the very sight of humans, they could not seem to stop themselves from savoring the more delicious crops- as if they had gotten bored of the forest fodder.

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Wild Boars [‘Handi’ in Kannada]

Wild boars are plainly the wild ancestors of the modern day domestic pig. They are also referred to as ‘wild pigs’ or wild ‘hogs’. They are chocolate brown in color and the entire body has stickle-like hair. A tuft of hair starting from its forehead runs along their backs, giving them a Mohawk look. The protruding short tusks, especially those of a male are used in defense. They generally live in groups consisting of males, females and young ones.

I spent the second half of the month on the right side of the park. The people here by default had two major problems- Elephants and Wild pigs. They all complained helplessly of the pigs which have reached populations beyond possible control. They are rather short and hardly make any noise while moving around. The farmer is kept in the dark about their presence until the very end. Only when a major chunk of his produce goes missing does he realize the disastrous doings of the wild pig. Upon being spotted, they are chased away, but they shamelessly return the minute the beater retreats.

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Elephants [‘Aané’ in Kannada]

Painful as death itself stands the elephant. People have narrated stories to me teary-eyed, trying to explain the misdoings of this so called ‘god incarnate’. They claim that their numbers have gone up ridiculously in recent times and that they have an irresistible crave for agricultural crops. They move around singly, in small groups or even in large herds.

The summers are spent in the jungle eating available bamboos and other vegetation. But come monsoon and there is no stopping these pachyderms. The crops begin to germinate and the giants come to relish them and thus shattering the hopes of a decent livelihood for the poor farmer. Some farmers in these places have switched to cultivating Tobacco since it is the only thing that neither the elephants nor the pigs eat. But that has not made things any better for even as the herds move through these fields, they destroy everything along their path. The forest department has made the effort of digging a ‘trench’ of around 8 feet depth along the forest border. Some areas are also equipped with solar powered electric fences. These fences are broken down with ease and the trench crossed over with better ease and the giants commence their mad feeding venture.The farmers keep vigil all night long, sitting on tree top ‘machaans’. They usually have only a flashlight or some fire-crackers as defense. But even these efforts have proved futile, for, when the herds decide to feed, then there is nothing that can stop them.

The irony lies in the fact that people from all over the world do everything they can and come to these forests just to catch a glimpse of these magnificent creatures; on the other hand there are these local residents who are ready to do everything they can to never see these creatures again.

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Gangothri and the gang of Gaja-gaaminis

My month long stay in Nagarhole was nearly pushing me off straight thoughts and normal life. Sanity was restored when the rest of the team arrived and we got to stay in the forest department lodge called ‘Gangothri’. It is located right inside the Nagarhole range of the Rajiv Gandhi National park. The three day long stay in Gangothri came with a series of blessed sightings. This includes my very first encounter with a pack of Dholes or Indian wild dogs and Striped neck Mongoose. The cherry on the cake however came on the night before we left Gangothri.

The dining area was next to the dormitory, located a little away from the lodge. After dinner on the last night, Natasha, Chinmayi, Krithi, Praveen and I began to walk down the road that led to the lodge. We heard a group of people making loud noises and clapping hands towards our far left. Being the only one in the group who had a torch in hand, I flashed the light in that direction to find a large herd of elephants that had lingered into the lodge area being chased away by the forest department staff. The rest of the volunteers were a little behind us and were quite unaware of the scene. Praveen left us and went back to shut them up. Feeling glad that we saw elephants, the four of us continued walking down the road and reached the Range office. Two men in the office yelled at us for walking around in the jungle and that there were elephants around. Assuming that they were referring to the elephants that had just passed, we continued walking towards the lodge. Little did we know that there was a part of the herd that was left behind and the staff members were chasing them right towards us. With only one flash-light, we hardly saw anything properly until it became too late. The loudest and scariest trumpeting noise at 30 feet distance from us and a glimpse of around six elephants at that very same distance-running towards us aroused panic. We turned around to run along the same path, for there was a big drop next to the road in the other direction. Krithi fell down in the process but managed to get back on her feet. Grabbing Chinmayi and Krithi by their arms I began to drag them towards a bus that was parked close-by. Chinmayi noticed that the bus door was open but Krithi failed to do so. While Chinmayi and I ran into the bus, Krithi and Natasha ran away into the darkness in the direction of the lodge-in the same direction in which the elephants were moving. Neither of them had a torch and tiny little Natasha was carrying a bag twice her size on her back. Never have I heard my heart pounding so loud. Chinmayi and I stood inside the bus, with a rush of emotions-fright, concern, relief, hope and several unaccountable ones.

After around 15 minutes, the herd had moved on and two forest department staff members escorted us back to the lodge where we found Krithi and Natasha safe yet panic-stricken. I failed to fall asleep that night. At 4 am the next morning, I opened my room window after I heard some noises outside. I saw the large herd of around sixty elephants slowly moving back in the path along which they were chased. The unmistakable Gaja-gaamini [meaning ‘the characteristic walk like that of an elephant]. The moonlit forest with the backdrop of black shadowy trees and ash colored gentle giants marching away – lost in their own world- the only one that they know of.

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Kabini and the Kiruba

After completion of work in the Nagarhole side, we shifted to the Kabini side of the park.

The Kabini, also called Kabani and Kapila, is a river of southern India. It originates in Wayanad District of Kerala state, south India from the confluence of the Panamaram River and Mananthavady River, and flows eastward to join the Kaveri River in Karnataka. Close to the town of H D Kote it forms the huge Kabini Reservoir. The backwaters of the Kabini reservoir are very rich in wildlife especially in summer when the water level recedes to form rich grassy meadows. The Kabini reservoir divides Nagarhole and Bandipur National parks. The place where we stayed was called Jungle Lodges and Resorts – a fancy place where one feels like being in the lap of luxury.

As a part of the booking, the package included a boat ride in the Kabini reservoir and rides in the jungle. In both cases, we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves as we sighted innumerable Chitals- who always made it a point to look at us when we drove by, Sambhar deer that rarely appeared, Wild boars which did the least to care for our presence, Elephants in all their might, Gaurs, Langurs lost in play, a Marsh crocodile and an assortment of birds. The catch however was something that I did not expect. On our first jungle ride, we saw all the regular herbivores. I was already contented that we saw countable number of Gaurs- for I love them. It was 6.30 in the evening and we were on our way back, heading towards the exit. Almost everyone was convinced that we had seen our share of wildlife for the day and hence had a relaxed attitude. It was getting dark and suddenly a feline figure flew across the path a little ahead of us, from the left side towards the right. At once a babbling chorus of whispers filled the jeep with each one voicing “Panther! Panther!”, at the same time trying to remain as quite as possible.

We drove a little ahead to find perhaps the most beautiful cat species I have seen. It was a sub adult leopard with golden chestnut colored coat and beautiful black spots. It crouched down amidst the grass, with ears erect and alert, looking at us in part fear and part intrigue. We silently admired the sleek creature for around a minute after which he presumed that we might be of danger to him. He got up in one jolt and scooted away into the green thickets. I saw my first leopard inside a national park. Kabini will remain a special place since I saw my first Kiruba [local dialect usage meaning ‘Leopard’]

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The month long survey also included some incidents like a domestic goat which tried to eat my data sheets while I interviewed its owner, a young pet Sambhar deer who thought he was a dog, three drunk men- one who wanted to complain to the government that I was doing a survey, two-who wanted to eliminate a one rupee coin because he had issues with it, three- who emphasized innumerable times that he was a tribal and I should ‘resich’ [he meant research] his village right away. I should also mention the overly hospitable home stay owners of Kutta and their talented cook, the old attic-like room where I stayed in Gonikoppal, the lodge room of Hunsur which had a detached commode that moved around independently and the weird Chicken shop-cum-lodge room of Karapura.

The team that joined later was a wide assortment of the most amazing people. I credit Vasu for his hard work, Praveen for his support, Natasha [Boo] for naïve humor, Chinmayi for her silence and Amal for remaining belligerently calm and composed-even while being chased by elephants. Two prashants showed amazing driving skills while the third one interviewed resort owners with ease. Having three people named ‘prashanth’ in the same team was a little confusing for the rest of as well as for the prashanths.

To the Aane, Kaati, Handi, Kiruba and a million other things that happened over a month in Nagarhole.

This one is for Krithi’s team of Nagarhole.

Boo

Periyar is a protected area and a nature reserve in the South Indian State of Kerala, set high in the mountains of the Western Ghats at the border to Tamil Nadu. It lies in the districts of Idukki and Pathanamthitta. The protected area covers an area of 777 km², out of which a 350 km² part of the core zone was made into the Periyar National Park and Tiger Reserve. The park is often called by the name ‘Thekkady’ also. Thekkady is located 4 km away from the town of ‘Kumily’.

My visit to this emerald heaven was a continuation of Dr. Krithi Karanth’s post doctoral project- ‘Impacts of tourism on National parks of India’. For all the praises that I got for a good job done in Ranthambhore and Sariska, fate took over and played fowl for a little bit. I shall not elaborate-to save face- the goof ups that took place even before the Periyar week commenced.

The work however was a little different. This time I got to interview the resort managers and home stay owners. While some of them were delightfully pleasant, others refused to even fake hospitality.  ‘Ground truthing’ remained an inevitable part of the trip.

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Truth Grinding:

A ‘multitude’ of things happened while ground truthing in Periyar. To start with, every village on the Tamil Nadu side is named as ‘patti’- each patty with a different prefix. For example- Usilampatti, Aanaikarapatti, Vaadipatty, Chettipatti, Silvarpatti, Veppampatti, Odaipatti et cetera. Worse still, there were certain ‘patti’s with the same name. Let us consider Vaadipatti. There was an A. Vaadipatti, an F. Vaadipatti and an S. Vaadipatti. You ask a villager the directions to Vaadipatti, he points in three different directions. Those of us who had only heard of human names having initials were quite amused.

On the Kerala side of Periyar, the mountains are lush green. The greens are usually from plantations of Coffee, Tea, Cardamom, Banana and Coconut. The Keralites have an odd sense of color combinations. There were houses painted in almost every possible gaudy shade and in combinations that would have perhaps made da Vinci scorch his eyes out. They ranged from a dazzling red and blue to a piercingly fluorescent green; a pink that could not get any flashier to a rave combination of loud orange and bright blue.

In the same game, I got to visit Idukki Dam, which is not very far away from the park. It stands amidst the mesmerizing green mountains as a gigantic arch. It is supposed to be the first ‘arch’ dam in India, the second highest dam in India and the 36^th highest dam in the world.

Ground truthing in Periyar was probably the craziest of its kind. We covered nearly 200 km in a single day and drove to places beyond the limits of the study area map.

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Mountains, Monsoons and Malyalees:

My anticipation before visiting Periyar was mainly regarding three things. One, to see the forest covered mountains of the Western Ghats, two- to enjoy the mid monsoon rains and three- to have adventurous conversations with Malyalees since I know no Malayalam. Unfortunately, each of my whims was specifically targeted and made unavailable for me. The mountains which once had evergreen forests were now stripped bare and made to wear uncomfortable costumes in the form of ‘Tea’ plantations. Although the time of my visit was during peak monsoons, it hardly ever rained. There would be a little drizzle to increase temptation but it never lasted for long. My hopeful ‘adventurous’ conversation with Malyalees never happened, for, everyone there spoke in Tamil [I can speak broken Tamil-mixed with English words, added actions and hand gestures to efficiently convey my point].

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Painfully Periyar:

The only usual entry one gets to view the Periyar Tiger Reserve is through a boat ride in the Periyar Lake. On the last day we went for the boat ride. It is an arrangement where four small boats and two big boats take you around the lake fringes.

The tourists who came there along with us were so unruly and uncouth that it strongly made me question the ‘evolved’ tag of human beings. They never managed to maintain silence. On the other hand, they were all yelling at the top of their voices. One particular family with a man who believed he was ‘funny’ infuriated me the most. Along the banks, we saw several Sambhar deer and Gaurs. When everyone in the boat were running around in excitement upon sighting the Sambhar, the ‘funny’ man with a bulging belly and a shirt so tight that it would rip off any moment sat back in his seat, yelling “Daankey….Daankey”[ ‘Donkey’ in a hopeless accent] with irritating chuckles in-between. It is perhaps best that the only access for tourists into the national park is the boat ride- for these kind of impish people deserve nothing more. I have never come out of a forest feeling as miserable and hopeless as I felt in Periyar.

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Normal team in a normal place:

The place where we stayed was a resort called ‘The Bamboo Grove’- owned by the forest department. Although the place as such was beautiful, they had taken ‘going with the theme’ to an extreme. There were far too many bamboos around the cottages and they made breaking and crackling noises all night long. Every cottage was built using bamboo products exclusively. The walls being paper thin, we could communicate with the inmates of the neighboring room with a mere whisper.

The team was a normal bunch of people. We had to make extra effort to notice Devu’s presence for he hardly ever spoke. Suresh seemed somewhat normal till the last day when he turned too dramatic putting any Indian television soap opera actress to shame. Amith was normal too, but more than a few people feared that was on the verge of beating up someone without a reason. Subhash efficiently replaced the image of a Laughing Buddha in our heads. He interviewed too many resort owners becoming the most eligible candidate as the brand ambassador of Kumily- all with a smile on his face. And Krithi herself, who I thought was normal so far, proved me wrong. Firstly she yelled at a boat full of people and managed to shut them up. Secondly, she added analyzing curd rice standards to draw a comparative account among the various restaurants of Kumily to her project. Shalini, the last minute entry into the team, remained silent in amusement witnessing the antics of the rest of the team.

Our rooms did not have televisions. But Rohit made it up by being the center of entertainment throughout the week. He managed to fall off a cliff, fall into a stream, got flashed by a home stay owner who wore a lungi, ate enough to fill three hungry souls and drove everyone up the wall with his cell phone photography. His phone made a ‘pichikpish’ noise every time that he clicked- and he clicked a lot!

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This one is for the pleasant souls of Chikmagalore, the silent ghost of Mangalore, the drama queen and clumsy giant of Bangalore and the dumbfounded lass of Palakkad. This one is for Krithi’s team of Periyar. *Pichikpish*

The Giant Sequoia named ‘General Sherman’ is the tallest tree in the world, standing at around 275 feet tall. Its life begins as a seed not bigger than your little finger. The longest recorded specimen of the Blue Whale – the largest animal in the world, was a female of 110 feet length. Its life began as a hardly visible ovum weighing less than a milligram. Genesis is a beginning; when one comes into being. Insignificant might be the origin, but what it metamorphoses into is sometimes miraculous. At some point of time in the little life that all of us live, there arises a moment when we pause and try to trace our roots. How did it all begin? The point of Nascence of a journey that shaped the person  that he/she is, today. Here I try and trace my roots.

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From the bits I hear about my childhood from my parents and closer relatives, I have made a vague image of what my early life was like. My father admits being a little worried that I might have been abnormal. While other kids of my age ran outside, fell down, played and fought with fellow children; I sat in a room and played all day with crayons, paints and brushes. Animals fascinated me the most. There was a little hut opposite the house where I lived back then. The owner of the hut was a lone old woman. The small courtyard in front of her hut housed several hens and their little chicks. Two mongrels were efficiently domesticated by the woman and they kept a watch over the fowl, fending off the wily cat that occasionally turned up to devour one or more of the little yellow chicks. I remember playing around all day tirelessly with the little chicks. Heavily impressed with the brightly colored plumage of the single rooster that resided there, I remember going too close to grab it once, which was followed by a mad chase. The rooster chased me; a howling, screaming me – all along the street. I tripped and fell over and cried louder. This however seemed to frighten the rooster, after which he retreated.

My mother recently dug out an old tattered note book from her cupboard. She had treasured this book for a very long time and presently, looking at me painting little details meticulously on canvas, she thought it apt to show me my early works. The pages of the book have lost their bright white color and now flaunt a sepia tone. Each page has to be carefully turned, for they make fragile noises. The pages had doodles of various animals; lions, elephants, cows and some birds. Cats and mice also dominated most of the pages.

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A few years later, the television series of ‘The Jungle Book’ aired in India. To say I was ‘addicted’ was to say the least. I remember to this day as to how much I longed to be Mowgli-the jungle boy, myself. A dear aunt of mine narrates to me even now, as to how we used to sit together every evening to watch the program. She also recalls the day when the final episode was aired- when Mowgli leaves the jungle and goes to the village with a girl. “You wouldn’t stop crying”, she tells me, “I had to take you  to the kids’ park and walk several rounds trying to convince you that it was okay for Mowgli to have left the jungle for the animals”. As I write this, I remain longing to see the forests of central India; the Kanha-Pench-Bandhavgarh forests; the abode of the Seeyonee Wolf pack, the lands where the elusive black panther  – Bhageera, the convivial bear – Baloo and the hypnotic rock python – Kaa roamed. The land where the atrocious monkey troupe – The Bandar log maintained havoc, where Tabaqui the Jackal betrayed and the home turf of the legendary tiger Sher Khan.

A little while after the ‘Mowgli madness’ had passed, Disney’s animation film ‘The Lion King’ hit the theaters in India, and brought along with it my second obsession. Simba- the lion cub meant the world to me. I have watched the movie so many times that even to this day I know the lines and dialogs by heart. Some of my doodle books from early years still show a dominance of characters from the movie.

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The Benign beginning:

Although I had a considerable fascination towards the animal world, my only exposure was limited to visits to various zoos. I had joined the ‘Nature Club’  in school when I was in the ninth grade. We would have weekly lectures by Mr.Srinath, who ran a small rescue and rehabilitation center for wild animals in his house. I credit him for introducing me to the world of Indian wildlife. A ‘field trip’ was scheduled in the December of 2002. We were to visit Bandipur National Park.

Bandipur National Park is one of India’s best known protected areas and is an important Project Tiger reserve. It is located in the Chamarajanagar district of southern Karnataka in South India, and is contiguous with the Mudumalai National Park in the neighbouring state of Tamil Nadu, the Wynad Wildlife Sanctuary in Kerala, and the Nagarhole National Park to the northwest. Bandipur, along with Waynad and Mudumalai forests forms the ‘Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve’.

Highly elated after my first wildlife experience, I could not seem to think of anything else for the couple of weeks that followed. When our teacher asked all of us to prepare a write-up of around a page length based on the trip, I presented to her the next day, an entire booklet sized report decorated with picture cut-outs and flashy photographs. Impressed with the effort, the teachers decided to include parts of it in the school magazine. The following is the unedited article from my school magazine ‘Carmel focus’:

My Experience at Bandipur

I visited Bandipur in the last week of December along with our educator Mr.Srinath, my teachers and my friends in the Nature Club. It was a great experience and here I would like to share the same with all of you.

This place was earlier known as Venugopal Game Sanctuary. Bullock cart riders would halt their carts here in the night. These were called ‘bandis’ in the local language, hence the name ‘Bandipur’. This is one of the forests to be declared ‘Project Tiger’ in India in the year 1972. Apart from tigers, one can see Sambhars, Langurs, Spotted-deer, elephants, Gaurs, Leopards, Macaques and Loris. To take a census of tigers, the ‘PUG MARK’ method is adopted – by studying the number of different paw prints. During our visit, though we couldn’t see a tiger, we saw the pug marks of a tigress on a muddy road. We also learnt to differentiate between the pugmarks of a tiger and that of a tigress. A tiger’s paws are round whereas that of a tigress is oval in shape.

We learnt some interesting facts about elephant life. The females often throw the adult mischievous males out of the herd. Elephants are social animals and hence take group decisions. They have a large social gathering at the Kabini backwaters. Their bath includes mud bath, slush bath and water bath. A mother elephant along with her infant calf is extremely cautious. She always has her sister by her side. In case of danger, the mother protects her calf and her sister charges and attacks. Males are largely poached for their tusks. It is really sad to know that even animals in the reserve area are poached.

Bandipur is a deciduous forest, sometimes dry and sometimes wet. We came across many interesting varieties of plants unique to the area. Bandipur forest is rich in ‘Bio-diversity’. The more we learn, we realize that there is much to be learnt. Regular lectures by Mr.Srinath were quite interesting but we needed a practical class that involved direct observation of animal behavior. This was taken care of at Bandipur.

I am indeed thankful to the school, my science club teachers and Mr.Srinath for their encouragement and support.

Arjun Srivathsa, Std. IX

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It was a rather humble beginning, a partly ignorant and naive one at that. But it was a ‘Beginning’ nevertheless. And today, quite ahead in terms of my art and the amount of detailing I insist on, my knowledge of wildlife and my minuscule contribution towards its conservation, I still remember and treasure the paths I took back then. I can say proudly that I feel a little bigger than a Blue whale ovum or a Sequoia seed.

This one is for my unforgettable, blissful and most rewarding past. This one is for the Nascence.

Vision was not very clear, or even if it was, I could not see in the apparent darkness. Everything was plain black; a heavy, deathly black. A red glow filled the place. It resembled a dungeon, but was quite unlike anything that I had imagined. I could feel my knees hurting and realized that I had been kneeling down for quite a while. It took sometime but eventually my eyes got used to the dimly lit space. The red glow grew in ambiance and it felt like I was being pushed downwards by it. I raised my head and in front of me but at a little distance stood a chair carved from stone. I couldn’t help but notice that it was quite aesthetically sculpted.  A more intense red halo glowed from its backside. Looking around, I saw a doorway at a distance. It did certainly not go with the theme of the dungeon. It was a familiar looking doorway, with two doors; open, and painted in a shade of greyish blue. I somehow knew that I had to escape and the blue doors were my only hope. I tried standing up when I noticed that I was being held in place by large rusty chains that tightly held my legs and arms. After a brief struggle I gave up and merely knelt there, lamenting. With a sudden rush of thoughts, I figured that if I managed to empty the entire bottle of liquid that lay in front of me, into that odd-looking pot that seemed to be made of glass, I would be set free. I wasted no more time. I began to pour the liquid from the bottle into the glass pot, spilling most of it. Something told me that I was running out of time. The glass pot suddenly broke. It was as if all hell broke loose, for a figure appeared as a silhouette against the red backdrop, following whom there was a large cloud of nasty dust and smoke, black as carbon. The figure was coming closer to me. From the silhouette, I could make out that it was a familiar person and pleaded for mercy. “You shall die”, he said, ” and slowly at that. For I wish to see you struggle till your last breath”. I tried screaming out loud, but my voice ceased to escape my throat. I twitched around for a while and with a jolt, I woke up. I wiped off gallons of sweat and went back to sleep, although not quite a sound one.

Hatred is quite common a feeling in the human world; as is ego, sadism, cynicism, arrogance, gall, impudence and negative preponderance. The condition is bad perhaps when one is at the receiving end of all these feelings. Worse still, is when the person who is against you is a person of a higher authority- a leader, a teacher, a rare parent, a boss etc. I was an unfortunate victim.

I was never too fond of chemistry. As a subject, I almost hated it and as a practical approach, I hardly managed to figure it out. Incidentally, my chemistry teacher put in his best efforts to help me retain my opinion of the wretched subject. Professor D was undoubtedly one of those teachers who fit the role of ‘the evil-one’ in many a nightmares. Some people in class ‘loved’ him for reasons known best to themselves. But Professor D and I never got along too well.

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I have already spoken of this person before [refer to the post titled 'Tales from the Chemistry Lab']. But let me paint for you, a descriptive picture that will help you get a vague image and certain attributes of my personal Satan. He was short; quite short. Hair neatly combed backwards, his large forehead would glisten in the light. Looking at him, one would easily figure out that in his college days, he was one of the geeks of the class. He still maintained the same attire and attitude. Thick glasses adorned his face. Sober colored formal clothes were inseparable with his personality. He would walk around with a slight hunch, yet with that delicate grace of a swan; he was rather effeminate. Whenever he stood in one place, he always rested on one leg – one hand resting on his hip, and invariably a sadistic yet sophisticated glee shone on his face. He did show occasional streaks of wit and sarcasm, which I find hard to not appreciate. His brain was fully laden and chemical knowledge almost spilt over from it – this was evident every time that he spoke. The only thing that brought genuine good-natured happiness in him was when he would teach a new concept of chemistry in class. He would hop and skip across the class podium with a smile on his face. His mood swings are the worst- one moment he is all happy and cheerful, trying to impress one with good humor; the next moment his fury has no bounds – yelling and moaning loudly at people at random for petty issues. That is by far the worst combination – the ego of a man and the moodiness of a woman. Once, while in the midst of a heated argument with Vishnupriya in class, he had claimed that he could use his tongue like a ‘whiplash’. D believed in one universal truth; that he was always right. And as long as people adhered to this truth and lived by it, all would be well in his little fairyland.

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I shall elaborate to you, two such instances out of the several ones that happened, which holds the positions of Professor D and mine intact – at a level of equal hatred. D mostly handled laboratory sessions for us. That particular semester, the internal assessment was being done through a round of viva-voce. Basically, he would ask us a bunch of questions individually -mostly unrelated to the syllabus- and we had to answer them. Based on our answers, we were awarded marks. At the end of the session, he would ask us to draw the molecular structure of a specific compound on a rough piece of paper that lay in front of him. After I had prayed to all my gods, it was finally my turn. The question-answer session went well. I was able to answer all his questions with an utter lack of confidence. At the end, he pushed a pen towards me and ordered, ” Draw Benzamide structure”. With complete confidence, I grabbed the pen and drew a quick structure. He saw it, declared it was wrong, and gave me an option to re-check it. I saw that little drawing several times but failed to notice any mistake. The following is an extract of our conversation that followed:

D: You have drawn the structure of Benzamine. I asked you to draw Benzamide !

Me: Oh! I’m really sorry Sir. I got it wrong.

D: Oooh! Sorry?? These chemicals go into medicines and suchlike applications. Can I give a patient a medicine that has benzamine instead of benzamide and say sorry??

Me: I’m terribly sorry Sir. It was a mistake.

D: Hmmm. Alright. Tell me; what marks should I enter for you out of 10?

Me: Sir?? I don’t know, sir.

D: No no..Please tell me. I shall give you as many marks for your folly as you want!

Me: Sir, I really don’t know. Do as you please.

D: Alright. I shall give you a ‘4′ out of 10.

Me: Sir?! But I got all the answers and most of the structure right.

D: So? You might have killed a patient!

Me: Sir, I don’t intend to get into medicine.

D: Ah! trying to be witty eh? I give you a ‘3′ for trying to outwit me. Now leave.

A baffled me leaves the chemistry lab, cursing the day this wretch was born.

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The final semester however showed the final showdown. This mega event brought out D’s ego, arrogance as well as sadism like never before. The entire class being divided into two batches, I belong to the second batch. This was the one with all the class nerds. The first batch was monitored by another teacher and was thus spared. We were not so lucky. The lab sessions being in the afternoon, right after lunch, from 2 pm to 4 pm was apparently ‘not enough’ for D. Thus he asked us to attend it by cutting short half an hour from our lunch break. No one liked this idea, but we attended it for the first two weeks, cursing and wishing at the same time that we dint have to cut short our lunch breaks.

Although everyone had a problem with this change in schedule, no one dared to oppose D. Me and Sujay made the blunder. We expressed to him during one session that we did not want the extra half an hour since, in the previous weeks we had managed to complete the experiments well within time. At this, he asked out loud as to how many from the batch are of the same opinion. Sujay and I looked at everyone’s face with hope. None of them voted for it. We stood absolutely aghast. No one supported us, not even Vishnupriya, who complained the most about the changed schedule. “So be it!”, he said, “You and Sujay may not enter the lab before 2 pm. The rest of the students, of course will start soon, at 1.30, but the two of you can come only later”. He also declared that the practical records would be attested only at 1.30 pm and since  me and Sujay would not be around, the rest of the year would  see our records signature-less. We begged and pleaded, explaining that we were only conveying what the entire group opined. Nothing seemed to change D’s mind. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the whole drama. The week that followed was spent in utmost tension. It was our final semester and we did not want a teacher to ruin it for us.

The following week, we reached the lab much before the commencement of the class and apologized to the little devil with a fake sorry look on our faces. With a wisp of miraculous air that perhaps prevailed, he accepted the apology with grace and allowed us to attend regular classes.

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Very recently, the recurring nightmares of mine decoded themselves. The dungeon I was seeing was not much unlike the dingy little corner where the laboratory was situated. The greyish blue doors that opened out of it; Various chemical solutions in front of us with which we had to work, and, the very prevalent glassware of the chemistry lab. And not to forget the owner of the stone chair – you know who.

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The three years of treacherous rule under Professor D has passed. Even to the last day that I saw him, I could not do without visualizing a pair of red shiny horns on his head and a trident clutched in his palm.

The Sariska Tiger Reserve is one of the most famous national parks in India, located in the Alwar district of the state of Rajasthan. This area was a hunting preserve of the erstwhile Alwar state and it was declared a wildlife reserve in 1955. In 1978, it was given the status of a tiger reserve making it a part of India’s Project Tiger scheme.

After six days of work in Ranthambhore, six of us out of the entire lot departed for Sariska. This was my first visit to this enchanted forest and I was definitely excited. The six of us included Krithi, her adviser-Ruth, Angad, Navdeep, Sachin and myself. The monsoons had just about begun, with a pleasant spell of rain every evening. Thus, the golden brown forests were slowly turning green, and presently they flaunted a lovely shade of lemon green.

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Herbivores and Horny Peacocks:

The most shocking news in the history of modern wildlife came out in late 2004 when studies revealed that there were no tigers left in Sariska. Poaching had become rampant and the inability of the forest department to handle this left Sariska deprived of its ace predator. After the tigers were gone, the leopards took over the land and became the apex predators. However, leopards are no match to the tigers and they place themselves at a much lower level in the ecological pyramid. This altogether has lead to an increase in the prey population and thus, one can see large herds of various herbivores in rather high densities. All along the jungle jeep-path, several herds of Nilghai, Chital, Sambhar and Langurs made their presence quite evident. This was supplemented by the occasional Wild boars that would be actively and voraciously grazing amidst the jungle.

Our two round trips into the national park were not blessed with sightings of tigers [ there are three relocated tigers in Sariska]; We enjoyed nonetheless. Since it was the onset of monsoons, the peafowl were also preparing for their mating season. The entire jungle reverberated with numerous “Miiiaaaow”-ing calls of these birds and we were offered several thousand sightings of the desperate males trying to woo a bunch of females. Usually, it would be one male, trying his best to impress a group of females- all of which seemed more interested in foraging than the poor male and his flirting skills. Some of them did look exuberant with their elaborate plumage and rich colors. The funny bit was with those who lacked the entire tail. They would look absolutely ridiculous, trying to show off their not-so-well endowed little tails, with equal enthusiasm. It was quite a sight when their display session was being carried out in the middle of the tourist path. Upon approaching them in the jeep, they would run in distress, tail still half open, and with that awkward look of their faces.

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Of Nilghais and their decisions:

Krithi’s adviser Ruth, although an American national, was not new to India. Married to an Indian for over 20 years, she was quite familiar with the ways of  life in India. She also had a substantial knowledge of spoken Hindi.

Being away from India for most of the time, she decided to replenish and rejuvenate her linguistic skills and made a vow that she would converse with us only in Hindi . We were of course in the obligation of correcting her if at all she erred. We were driving around the national park, as a part of our ground truthing and along side kept busy in discussing various problems of wildlife and the impacts of human intervention.

At this point, Ruth, who sat in the front seat of the car, turned back and with an inquistive look on her face, asked us in Hindi, “Nilghai faisla khaathe hain?”- translating to “Do Nilghais eat their decisions?”. The rest of us almost fell off laughing. The poor woman confused ‘Faisla‘ meaning ‘decision’ for ‘Fasal‘ which means ‘agricultural crop’. Through out the rest of our stay in Sariska, Ruth’s ‘faisla’ to not use ‘fasal’ became a standing joke. It attracted at least a slight chuckle every time that it was mentioned.

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A Sullen Sanctum:

Fate plays foul sometimes; this is sometimes true and Sariska became a sorrow victim. With Ranthambhore as its closest neighbor in terms of a national parks, there remains a distinct contrast between the two parks of Rajasthan. While Ranthambhore gained all the fame and glory, Sariska remained as somewhat of an unfortunate poorer cousin of the former. The number of tourists who visit Sariska are in no comparison to that of Ranthambhore. This is perhaps what lead to the negligence of the forest department in protecting its tigers.

The incapability of the authorities  did not stop there, for, now there are three tigers that have been introduced into Sariska from Ranthambhore. The sad part is that the two females and one male that exist in Sariska today,  are siblings. Even if the male manages to copulate with both the females successfully, the next generation will suffer from absence of genetic diversity. This will further lead to inbreeding and thus a very weak set of tigers will exist- being highly viable for a complete wipe out, in case an epidemic falls out.

Bad management of the tiger relocation program is the smallest of Sariska’s woes. With around sixteen villages still inside the core area of the park, troubles don’t seem to part with Sariska for a long time in the future. Relocation of villages to ‘outside’ the national park seems to be an eternal attempt of the forest department. They have been successful with only one village so far. Main roads run through two of the three core zones of the park. The temple of ‘Pandupole’ is located right in the heart of core zone #2. Uncontrolled movement of vehicles to the temple has definitely put pressure on its surviving wildlife. The travelers were seen feeding biscuits to the monkeys, Sambhar and Wild boars within the buffer zone of the park. The villagers inside the national park own large herds of cattle, which are now in competition with the wild herbivores for grazing grounds and food. There is heavy human activity within the park, including illegal extraction of forest products. Movement of two-wheelers and even tractors has become a common sight within the core zone.

The officials of lower designation seem partly interested in the jungle, but those in higher  positions don’t seem to care too much. The forest guards are all old and there has been no recruitment of new staff from the past twenty years. In this strange folly of political bureaucracy, there is very little hope for Sariska , its wildlife and its out-of-home tigers.

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But hope is what has kept the dreams of many conservationists alive and the same hope is what I fall back upon. I wish from my heart of hearts that Sariska’s ancient glory be restored and it becomes a tiger haven once again.