by Aline Dobbie
Whilst walking back to the lodge, I was thinking about a good friend. He runs a registered charity called LifeForce Charitable Trust. The aims of LifeForce are to help educate the Forest Guards and encourage them to appreciate and respect the job which they are paid to do. By doing this, they hope to help conserve the tiger throughout Madhya Pradesh. Our friend works in collaboration with the Forest Department of Madhya Pradesh and spends as much time as he can afford out in India himself. “To preserve the Tiger is to preserve your Family” is one of his quotations when talking to the guards. In his careful presentations, with written notes in both Hindi and English accompanied by simple drawings, he attempts to show how wildlife has declined in the last century and why. A cynic would say that what he is doing in his small organisation is ‘a spit in the ocean’. So be it, but do remember Gandhiji’s saying ‘if we all do a little then a lot will be achieved”. Actually, in this modern rapacious world, whoever we are that is the best advice to follow – whatever your own interest and commitment. I am going to quote a little from one of LifeForce’s notes: “...so, in a very real sense, you are doing one of the most important jobs in the world. Thinking and caring people all around the world admire and respect what you do. To them you are heroes. I will quote from Indira Gandhi about Project Tiger ‘the interest in conservation is not a sentimental one but a rediscovery of a truth well known to our ancient sages. The Indian tradition teaches us that all forms of life – human, animal and plant – are so closely interlinked that disturbance in one gives rise to imbalance in the other. Nature is beautifully balanced. Each little thing has its own place, its duty and special utility. Any disturbance creates a chain reaction which may not be visible for some time’.....” Thus does LifeForce try to inspire simple men to do their work well with commitment and devotion and enjoyment.
To quote from The Upanishads (the Vedic literature written in 500 BC, dealing with the nature of the soul and ultimate reality): ‘This universe is the creation of the Supreme Power meant for the benefit of all His creations. Individual species must, therefore, learn to enjoy its benefits by forming a part of the system in close relation with other species. Let not any one species encroach upon the other’s rights’. It seems to twenty first century thinking that we are just re-discovering this truth and calling it ‘ecology’.
Rajan, Graham and I walked back quietly the way we had come and, in the process, saw tailor birds, a serpent eagle, a shrike, an Indian roller, and the usual bulbuls and jungle babblers plus a little wren.
It was still quite early in the day and the children were taking themselves to school, either on foot or, for the privileged few, by bicycle. We came across one of the young teenaged girls we had seen earlier. Rajan asked why she was not going to school and she shyly replied that her duties at home had been decreed by her father to be more important. Whether Rajan was truly vexed, or just showed that to be the case for our benefit I would not know but he said he would speak to her father and rectify the situation. That is just a small example of the discrimination that is still experienced by some females in India. I hope that Rajan did do what he promised. That young girl’s face lit up when he spoke, and her aspirations will be to better herself through education. Graham and I reflected that there are so many here in Britain who regularly ‘wag’ school despite everything being provided – they have not a clue how advantaged they are – and yet, in the country areas of Scotland one can still meet old men and women who had to leave school at fourteen. They had no real career choices in those days; it was domestic service, down the mines, armed forces or the police, or a local mill for large numbers of people. Sixty years has made a great change in our own country, hopefully progress will contribute to significant cultural change in the next half century for Indians.
I felt that I had been on the move constantly for the last eighteen hours and the veranda of our cottage was a welcome respite from all this activity. Lying in the sunshine with the gentle country noises and the constant noise of the little waterfall was very soothing and rather reluctantly I went off to have lunch in the dining area. It was, however, to be a very fortuitous meeting. The only other people present were the distinguished photographer and his companion of whom we had heard from the waiter. Harshad Patel and Anil Juwarkar proved to be very friendly and in no time at all we had discovered several areas of mutual interest, but most especially the conservation of Indian wildlife. Harshad Patel had a book called The Vanishing Herds published in the early 1970s by Macmillan. His subjects were the various beasts and birds of African wildlife. Recently he has set up and registered a charitable foundation in India called ‘The Vanishing Herds Foundation’. The Foundation’s objectives are to establish facilities for undertaking education, training and consultancy in the sphere of wildlife conservation and its environment, and to undertake research on wildlife and its ecosystems and all matters relating to conservation. The aim is also to promote eco-tourism, and to provide a forum to support the initiatives of individuals, institutions and academic bodies and to co-operate with them by exchange of information and personnel.
I felt myself very fortunate to have come upon these two men and we had such a good time. Lunch was good as a foursome and we heard about Sasan Gir – the wildlife park in Southern Gujarat near to which the project is based, on land purchased by the Foundation for this very purpose. The Asiatic lion is Harshad’s great obsession, along with tiger, leopard, cheetah and all the other magnificent beasts of the jungle. Anil is the Project Manager for much of the work that will be undertaken to establish the foundation, and he is wonderfully funny and vastly amusing as a raconteur. His father is a very talented painter. I have had the good fortune to be asked to speak on behalf of Vanishing Herds in London and, thus, help encourage contributions to their very worthwhile aims. The charity now has official recognition with the Charity Commissioners in the UK and the equivalent status in the USA. In India, this had been previously established.
The jeeps awaited us and Harshad invited us to accompany them. We declined, thinking that we should not intrude on their very serious photography. I wish we had. On their return, we heard of the tigress with four four-month old cubs that they had had the opportunity to photograph. Nevertheless, we had a very enjoyable and interesting time.
Bandhavgarh is so different from Ranthambore and so beautiful. I was very struck with the outlines of the green-covered hills and rocky escarpment in the early afternoon sunlight. Whenever one saw it, be it late evening as the dusk approached or in the dawn light, it was thoroughly mesmerising with its quiet serene beauty. We were fortunate to be there whilst the elephant grass was flowering so the lovely meadows or maidans were covered in the elephant-high white plumes of the grass which gave a sort of silvery wavy appearances to the forest clearings. The monsoon rains had been good so the jungle was green and not parched like Ranthambore. The trees are plentiful and majestic with sal, saja, mahua, achar, amla, dhaoria and bamboo. There were pools in jungle glades and flowing streams of clear clean water and interesting ravines of rock and dry river beds with sandy bottoms. Elephants are used to track tiger and it was a great pleasure to be so close to these huge docile creatures which are such favourites with us. Jeeps are the only form of motorised transport which was nice and so much more intimate.
The next morning, it was cold at 0500 hours and in the chilly sunrise I was very glad of a thick blanket round my shoulders as the jeep sped away to the park gates. We joined up as a foursome with a naturalist plus driver. We seriously quartered the park and enjoyed ourselves but saw no tiger, though repeatedly came across fresh pug marks. Then suddenly someone on an elephant spotted a tiger but he or she chose to wander off in a direction that avoided all the various jeeps. We returned a little disconsolate. Graham and I kept reminding ourselves how lucky we had been in Ranthambore to see tiger on our first outing – in all we had experienced seven tiger sightings in extraordinary close up.
The author in blankets against the chill morning air – Bandhavgarh
National Park.
Harshad and Anil said their farewells and left for Kanha National Park, to which we were also headed on the next day. In the meantime, I followed through on the unsatisfactory car. I spoke to Travel House long distance and suggested to Sunil Hasija that this vehicle was not going to last the distance for our forthcoming hundreds of kilometres and nor did we consider it safe. He arranged for a replacement vehicle to be with us for the following morning. We explained to Raju the driver that it was no reflection on his driving, but that we could not contemplate so many hours in the old Ambassador. It was also important to make this point to his superiors as his livelihood could depend on a bad report. I would not hesitate to give a bad report if it was merited, but this was not the case. We gave him a tip and he waited till the replacement arrived the next day. The whole thing was an interesting exercise, that did not surprise me, because the local transport wallahs heard about it and tried to understandably exploit the system, but it is always better to stick with the people one knows, and Travel House has never let us down.
After a delicious lunch, we went back to the park. It was an exquisite afternoon and I thought I had taken some superb photographs – indeed, I probably had – but next morning disaster struck and at a crucial time the film jammed. Despite bringing it home to experts, it was all lost. I will try and describe the picture that meant so much to me in words.
Bandhavgarh has a particular jungle glade with wide still pools which one approaches over a concrete low bridge – what I recall was referred to as an Irish bridge in my youth. We crossed it many times, but each time I loved it because if the driver approached slowly and quietly the birdlife and the deer could be observed drinking peacefully. This particular time as we came to the bridge, I noticed from my side of the jeep that there was a tiny little Kingfisher sitting on the edge of the concrete. The little bird was only four inches in height. He seemed lost to the sights and sounds of us humans. He looked from side to side for the fish he was attempting to catch. I was sitting in the jeep perhaps three feet away and he seemed unconcerned, just tilting his head left to right. It was a magical moment and we just sat and watched him and photographed. The water was gurgling under the bridge; there was some bird sound but otherwise just the contented noises of Graham, myself, the naturalist and driver. He did not fly away; it was we who finally moved on. That was one of the most beautiful moments of my entire trip. A jungle glade, limpid water, peace, and the company of an exquisite little bird who felt unthreatened by us humans, just going about his daily business - truly this was the heart of my beloved India. The evening shadows lengthened and the jungle became cool and quiet but, regrettably, we did not see tiger. The naturalists were so crestfallen. That, however, is the point; no-one can guarantee tiger sightings.
We saw a leopard’s pug marks, and those of a bear. There was the usual beautiful, graceful chital, sambhar, barking deer, langur monkeys, wild boar and a Bonnelli’s eagle plus hornbills and peacocks. As we drove home in the gloaming, we talked of the little kingfisher and recalled the big ones on Delhi railway station and those at Ranthambore but we had never seen one so small – his miniscule size seemed to emphasise his iridescent beauty. Suddenly, an owl swooped low over the jeep and with the half moon in the deep blue sky above him it was a beautiful end to the day. A hot shower and some refreshing tea were very welcome after over three hours in the confines of the jeep.
Jungle glade and pool – Bandhavgarh National Park
At night, there are strange sounds, which are the noises the villagers make from their hides to frighten away the animals from their crops – it can be a bit startling but one soon adjusts. Early starts require early bedtimes, and if one is alone as we were for the second night there is nothing really to do but retire to the bedroom and read with the night calls continuing all around one. The jungle in this ancient land, with relics of long gone kingdoms is all around one, and except for STD dialling, which is so cheap, and efficient satellite dishes here and there, plus efficient water pumps, life seems to go on pretty much as it has always done; the children do go to school, or at least the majority do, but it is simple village life close to the land and its animals. I slept well that night and only stirred when I heard the familiar knock to the door which was the wake up call with a very welcome tray of tea very early the next morning.
CHAPTER
TEN
The Ultimate Thrill
On our last morning we were so determined to try and see a tiger that, when the waiter brought the tea, we leapt out of bed and dressed in double-quick time, swallowed a scalding cup of tea and strode out to the jeep. It was still dark and so cold. Alwin and Mukesh were impressed and said that, if we arrived at the gate first, it could be that we might pick up the first fresh clues as to a tiger’s whereabouts.
That early morning drive was full of anticipation and, just to reward us, we had hardly left the camp but we saw a big jungle cat on the side of the road; he appeared to be going home to bed just as we had vacated ours! Then, we saw a jackal loping along and his eyes reflected our headlights as we passed. I said to Graham that I had a good feeling about this morning and, sure enough, we were at the gates of the park first and thus able to pick up the fresh signs of the pre-dawn activity.
Almost immediately, in the barely pink dawn light, we heard the various alarm calls. Mukesh spotted the very fresh pug marks of a big tiger and the peafowl were calling shrilly, then a sambhar started to ‘bell’ urgently and we knew we were so close to something. I looked round and there behind us, about thirty feet away, a big tigress came out of the grass and proceeded to cross the road behind us. The excitement was immense and Alwin and Mukesh were talking rapidly deciding what to do; out of the morning mist we saw an elephant coming up the road as fast as possible and the mahawat (elephant keeper and controller) was given gesticulatory instructions, so she plunged into the undergrowth after the tigress. All the while, the sambhar continued to bell and other deer started to respond; the anticipation was immense. Suddenly, coming from the right was another elephant. We beckoned urgently to the mahawat who rapidly brought the great beast right up to the open jeep.
Alwin said to me ‘Get on Ma’am get on, follow the tiger’. The huge animal stood as close as possible and Graham leapt on her back. I thought rapidly – I have more than one serious back injury from my youth – but the adrenalin kicked in and I leapt on to the metal side of the jeep and then on to the roll bar and with Graham’s helping hand on to the howdah. Graham made room for me and then whispered urgently that he had found a huge spider and flicked it off. I looked at him closely – it is not like Graham to wind me up about spiders, and in these circumstances! Meanwhile the occupants of another jeep realising what was about to happen had arrived and were also climbing on the elephant. The elephant started to move off in a rapid swaying gait; I bent down and started to remove my shoes whilst Graham looked on incredulously and asked what I was thinking of, but I explained as the huge animal purposefully moved through the undergrowth that I was castigating myself for having put on my ‘slip ons’ that morning in an act of laziness. I put this very nice pair of shoes under my bottom – better squashed than no shoes at all when the action started!
Elephant used for tiger tracking Bandhavgarh National Park
Our mahawat knew what he was doing and the elephant Bandhani quickened her pace. Meanwhile, the first elephant, who we later found out was called Jaisari, started trumpeting noisily – it was alarming and exciting, she was wheeling around either out of aggression towards the tigress or because she had slightly ‘lost the plot’. Bandhani pressed on until there she was, the magnificent beast, the tigress standing looking at us just 10 feet away. She stood her ground and just looked – it was spell-binding. The American behind me stood up, in his excitement and I, very precisely and shortly, told him to sit down or risk unbalancing the elephant to everyone’s detriment, or perhaps decapitating himself on a low branch! Being a really nice chap he apologised and, subsequently, Barry Snyd
er and I have kept in touch. We were all four trying frantically to photograph the tigress and the mahawat very expertly turned the elephant from side to side. I could not think why the tigress had remained and then all became clear. She suddenly pounced, there was a scream and we saw her prey, a little chital fawn whose neck she had efficiently broken. I had a pang of sadness for such a little life lost, but this was the jungle and tigers have to eat. Still, the tigress remained with her prey in her mouth and looked at us, but finally she turned around and walked away. With one last look at us she bounded away to eat her breakfast.
A tigeress seen from an elephant – Bandhavgarh National Park
Bandhani made her way back to the jungle track with all of us elated and congratulating the mahawat on his expertise. As we walked out, there was a branch – quite a stout one – in our way. He gave the order and Bandhani just broke the branch effortlessly and ambled on. It had been an unforgettable experience. I stroked Bandhani’s rough hairy sides and took a photo of her face; her eyes with their three-inch long eye lashes were so patient and beautiful. Then, to my horror, I found that the film had stuck – truly a trying moment – but fortunately Graham had also been photographing and managed some good shots. It was so sad to lose all that material on a 400-speed film, including the shots of the little kingfisher of the previous evening. Barry Snyder and I exchanged addresses on a scruffy bit of paper foraged out of Alwin’s pocket and he promised to send me copies of his own photographs which he very sweetly did.
I questioned Graham again closely about the famous spider; he replied that it had been huge about four inches (10 centimetres) across and bright yellow with yellow and white legs and he only had time to flick it off the elephant’s back just before I sat down on it! He admitted to having felt a bit panicky about it! No wonder, I think I would have gone into vertical take off had I seen it first! I subsequently heard from Barry that he had an opportunity to ride on the elephant again and saw the same tigress and took even better photographs. We, in our jeep, were feeling so pleased with ourselves. As we drove away we grinned at everyone and I saw some glum faces. Yes, I know it is not all about seeing tiger but believe me it is such an electrifying experience and definitely the cherry on the cake.
