by Aline Dobbie
Rising at 0500 hours the next morning, we were cold and needed extra sweaters and blankets with which to envelop ourselves. Aditya had ordered cold omelettes and aloo parathas with fruit for our breakfast which was to be taken within the park at a designated picnic and comfort halt.
Kanha, considered the king of the parks nestles in the Central Indian Highlands; it is a world-class natural heritage site. There is justifiable pride in it being the first Sanctuary of the country having been established in 1935. Now, it has an area of 1838 sq. km of which 940 sq. km. is core, a national park, and 898 sq. km is a buffer zone.
The wildlife spectrum includes tiger, panther (leopard), wild dog, bison, barasingha, sambhar, cheetal, chousingha, nilgai, sloth bear, wild boar, langur monkeys and other species of mammals and reptiles, besides around 300 species of birdlife.
The floral splendour includes sal, saja, bija, jamun, mahua, semal, amla, tendu, dhaman, palas, kusum, arjun, dhaora, harra, bahera, lendia and bamboo, apart from unquantifiable species of grasses and ground flora.
Kanha is so large that one has to take breakfast and refreshment with one in the jeep. Aditya is an expert and dedicated conservationist and took immense trouble taking us out and showing us, or attempting to show us, all its attractions. It is stunning in its immensity and the park was by no means full and noisy as had been the case at Ranthambhore. Graham and I enjoyed ourselves immensely and at the picnic stop met up with Harshad Patel and Anil Juwarkar who were by this time staying at Wild Chalet next door to Kipling. We asked them over for a drink that evening. I also met up with Barry Snyder who had been with us on the elephant in Bandhavgarh. He too is passionate about the world’s wildlife.
We visited the Kanha Centre which is quite good with a well-organised information and educational centre. They could, however, improve on their merchandising. All of that side of things is still very amateur in Indian parks, as opposed to our National Trust properties and great gardens and countryside parks. If the efficiency with which the Indian Army is run could somehow permeate the Wildlife and Forestry Departments then I am sure it would all take a huge step forward. In the UK, we know how important ‘ethos’ is to an organisation and, if one has people thinking ‘job for life’, an inertia sets in. India has a vast amount of that thinking sadly but, then, so did we in our own way. Nationalised industries in the UK in the years following World War II and before the 1980s, were famous for just lumbering along. India is now aware of these problems and seems to be trying to tackle it but one requires people of the stature of the late great J R D Tata, to be enticed in to head national institutions. J R D Tata most famously ran Air India International in the 1950 and 60s and made it so enviable at that time – a true flagship carrier. To turn things around and move constructively forward, it requires government dedication and, at last, we are beginning to see that appearing. The new President of India, President Kamal, although himself a scientist, has a dedication to conservation; perhaps he will gather round him some good leaders of vision and integrity.
Tara’s daily bathing ritual in Banjar river
In the afternoon, after a well-earned shower and lunch under the dappled shade of huge sal trees, we had a treat in store. The tradition at Kipling is that Tara the elephant walks down to the river with her mahawat and second mahawat. She ambled through camp and we caught up with her on the water’s edge. She needed no urging to wade in and we saw her sinking in, deeper and deeper till only her head and trunk are visible. Oh! Was this a happy big elephant! She was such a darling, rather like an elephantine toddler enjoying her bath. She completely submerged and blew bubbles through her trunk, which looked like a periscope curling and kinking out of the water. Then, a contented eye appeared and looked at us, and finally, with a whooshing noise, she rolled over. We just sat on the boulders as close as was sensibly possible and crowed with delight. Mark decided to swim quite close to her – and him a biologist who should be quite aware of some of the water parasites that abound! Finally, the mahawat called and told her to get out – this took a further 15 minutes as she pretended she had not heard him and waded off deeper into the river. Tara looked on defiantly and he one minute scolded and then cajoled her. At last, she very reluctantly got up and waded to the shore. Then, she was told to lie down and this was where our job began. Truly, it was one of the most enjoyable experiences of my trip. I waded in and started to scrub this great creature along with her mahawats, each of us using a brush. Graham joined us. She just lay there and I stroked her ears and patted her head and just loved scratching her trunk, the tip of which is pink and tactile like a forefinger and thumb. I kept talking to her and telling her she was both shower and blow dryer all in one because of course she scooped up water and squirted it out, and then blew. She took my fingers in the tip of her trunk gently, just watching with one attentive eye. She liked to feel all round my various rings like a curious toddler might. On reflection, it was just like playing with my little grandsons, her gentle movements all the time belying her great size and strength.
The serious business of helping to scrub Tara
When one side was all scrubbed she was told to get up and lie down showing the other side. Regretfully, finally the bath was finished and she was cajoled to get out, which she did slowly and reluctantly. Then, Tara went and stood on a great boulder to sun and dry herself. We took the opportunity to have tea from a flask. The next bit was pure delight! She was given a stick, about a foot (30 cm) long with which she proceeded to give herself a pedicure. I know it sounds a bit rich, but that is exactly what one saw, this wonderful huge animal picking up her feet one at a time, and scratching between her toes, the stick of course being manipulated very dextrously in her trunk. At one stage, she seemed to be standing on two feet, one front and one back. She was then fed and given tit bits and told to turn round and sun the other side. Sadly, the ritual being accomplished she walked off to be saddled up with a howdah. Tying the girth straps just right is vital. Once this was accomplished, we were invited to get on and then Tara ambled gently back to Kipling in the glow of the setting sun. It was a precious interlude and Graham, Mark and I just loved it.
Clean and contented Tara carries Aline and Graham home for tea!
Graham asked me to ask the mahawat about elephant diseases but the only thing he was prepared to admit to was that she can catch worms from eating earth. Graham wanted to know if males were castrated and whether their testicles were internal. I said firmly that, never mind that I do not know all the Hindi for that sort of conversation (after all not an average topic), I was not going to attempt indelicate subjects with a strange Indian mahawat! Graham later found out a lot of what he wanted to know from Aditya but is now determined to bone up on veterinary knowledge pertaining to elephants. On arrival back at camp, Tara let us down and ambled off to her own house. Mark Shand comes to see her as often as he can manage and had arranged to have her new house built for her.
Later on in the evening, Harshad and Anil came over from Wild Chalet with Eric, who runs it, a nice knowledgeable man. We had a splendid evening with much talk and laughter. Harshad very generously offered me one of his tiger photographs for this book, which is so typical of his generosity (Harshad’s photographs are on pages 128-131). They both explained the aims and aspirations of The Vanishing Herds Foundation to the others present. In the last month as I write in 2003, the Foundation has been registered here in the UK and also in the US. It was originally officially given charitable status in India. Now, however, serious fundraising can take place and a website is being designed, which, when completed to Harshad’s satisfaction, I will arrange to have linked to my own website and do everything I can to promote its ideas. I have been appointed a director of The Vanishing Herds Foundation Ltd in the UK and am now a UK trustee.
Harshad Patel with Aline, Graham and others at Kipling
The following morning something amusing happened. The bearer came with a wake up call of tea and fruit. Somehow I thought something was wrong and looked at my
watch – 03.45 hours! So I went on to the veranda where Mark was already sitting smoking. When I questioned the time he too was astonished. Graham had not moved. I just went back to bed but, of course, could not sleep. The poor young bearer came back with a further tray of tea, madly apologetic, so I just said ‘koi bath ne’ which means it doesn’t matter/it is of no consequence. The embarrassed young man had got us all up an hour too early.
In the cold morning air, were we glad of the blankets round us in the jeep. It was a pleasant morning with picnic breakfast on the plateau. Lovely and peaceful and one can see for miles with not a building in sight. When we returned from the upland, we saw a number of animals, the usual chital, sambhar, gaur (a herd of them actually, which was wonderful). Gaur are the mighty bison with magnificent horns and huge breadth of shoulder. Then, there was muntjac (the hog deer), wild boar, monkeys, owls, an eagle, two jackals and some peacocks.
Sunrise at Kanha
Aditya received word that a tigress had been sighted and that elephants were available on which to ride and see her close up. This we did with alacrity. Apparently, some purists feel it is in some way prostituting wildlife viewing. What nonsense! As we had already experienced, seeing tiger at close range from an elephant is one of the most visually splendid experiences one can hope to have, like swimming with dolphins and snorkelling in restricted areas with plentiful sea life. These are life enhancing experiences that have never in my observation from experiences around the world left the individual unmoved. Be it in Mexico, the Caribbean, India, Borneo or Viet Nam, Africa or Europe, close encounters with the world’s wonderful creatures is something to be valued and will always stay in one’s visual and sometimes tactile memory as with dolphins. Indeed, provided the animal is in no way badly treated or exploited, it is the way to educate people, and the privileged who travel, as to how fortunate we are to share this planet with other creatures.
A swift climb onto the back of Hemawati took us right up to the tigress lying camouflaged in the long grass. Oh, she was magnificent. We just gazed from about 10 feet away and clicked our cameras. She yawned and panted, and slightly moved about. My film ran out and Mark very generously gave me another 400 speed film. Try changing a film on a shifting elephant with everyone craning to see a tiger! However, the Tiger God smiled on me. It was successfully accomplished and I was able to take some potentially excellent shots with a zoom lens. We all had a great feeling of elation because the experience must have lasted about 15 minutes or more and then the elephant walked back to the jeep for us to dismount. We heard that the tigress was moving and had risen. All the while another wildlife enthusiast had been on the ground shooting film with a video. We found his behaviour rather odd: this is not an open air zoo and that tigress is not tame. Yes, she knew that she was not threatened by any of us and that her needs are respected and catered for but she is a wild animal and would be unpredictable if spooked. Our pedestrian visitor was behaving as if we had been watching ‘the greater crested warbler’ or some such bird. People appear to get carried away and lose touch with reality.
Graham, Mark and I were so happy. Curiously, there was a young girl out from Scotland who was helping at Kipling along with us on the elephant. She was experiencing her first sighting of big game in sublime surroundings and behaved in such an odd mute way that all of us just rolled our eyes. Perhaps these youngsters are so blasé that they are underwhelmed by what enriches the rest of us, which is, rather sadly, their loss. We were grateful that Aditya took so much trouble with us and we all returned elated to camp for a quick change and lunch and then departure. It was a happy occasion and Mark wanted to come with us in the 4 by 4 as far as Jabalpur, from where he would be catching a train up to Delhi. We were very glad to have him along and said our farewells and had a last pat on Tara’s trunk as she ambled past for her bathing ritual, I wish I could have stayed longer but you know sometimes that is the right time to depart and have the most wonderful memories forever.
Jabalpur must have been a charming city once. It is still a prosperous bustling place and HQ for the Indian Army Madhya Pradesh/Orissa Command. The British established the military cantonment and administrative centre in 1819 and there are still English medium schools and hospitals as well as a mission presence. The drive from Kanha was pleasant but all of three and a half to four hours; however, talking between friends sitting in comparative comfort and safety with Gudu driving into the westering sun was pleasant. The army was much in evidence with so many thousands of troops newly returned from the frontier after the relaxation of hostilities between India and Pakistan. There are so many Raj era buildings, some of which are in beautiful condition but others have been allowed to decay totally, which seems odd in a country where renovate, repair, recycle could be the second name. We passed an elegant central war memorial in the middle of the old-style wide suburban road. I just managed to read the inscription “In memory of All the Men of all classes and creeds who sacrificed their lives ...” I could not read the full inscription but that most poignant of phrases sums up the sacrifice of so many in the twentieth century. For me, it tied in so fittingly with the dedication by HM The Queen of The Memorial Gates to the Commonwealth War Dead of the Two World Wars. This had taken place on 6th November 2002 and had been the culmination of a five-year ambition for Baroness Shreela Flather, herself an Indian who sits in the House of Lords. Those of us with links to the Indian Army consider it should have happened long ago. What is interesting, however, is that the bulk of donations came from within the UK, and sadly some of India’s most wealthy people, including those who frequent The Indian Merchants’ Chamber in Mumbai and those who have achieved notoriety recently in Britain with political cronyism gave absolutely nothing. Actually, it is one of the unpleasant sides to India’s wealth and progress that, although there are some great philanthropists, a huge number of reasonably successful people are apparently totally self-absorbed and unwilling to ‘give back’. Indeed, I was to witness some of this again in Mumbai. All countries have these complacent folk who are only too ready to buy self-enhancing favours but, somehow, I thought that giving towards a memorial for the War Dead would transcend their petty ambitions. Here, in Scotland, one observes with some cynicism those who join charitable or voluntary committees for the ‘social enhancement’ factor. Inevitably, they are the people who find it challenging to turn up regularly to meetings or get stuck in to the washing up or whatever boring essential is part of the fundraising or social activity.
Contented tiger – Kanha
A magnificent tiger at close range – Kanha
I have returned to this chapter on 11th November 2003 because in yesterday’s edition of The Times I found the following excellent article by Jack Straw, the current Foreign Secretary.
Wear a poppy, too, for these forgotten legions of Asia
“Why are they here? What have they ever done for us? Is a cry I hear less often than I did 25 years ago ... on the day before Armistice Day, there is one very good answer (of many) to this question. ‘They’ fought and died for ‘Us’ in very large numbers in both world wars, and I might add, ‘We’ have never given sufficient acknowledgement to ‘Them’ in the decades that followed. .....By the end of the First World War, 1,100,000 people from British India – now India, Pakistan and Bangladesh – had served overseas, at a cost of 60,000 dead. Some 9,200 such soldiers won decorations, including 11 VCs. In the Second World War, the Indian Army had two and a half million men, the largest volunteer army the world has ever seen. And 87,000 died for us ... And the Indians and Pakistanis who died in the mud along with their comrades from Blackburn and Accrington and Burnley and across Britain no doubt asked all the time: ‘Why are we here?’ The simple answer is that we are all part of humankind: but above and beyond that, the lives and histories of Britain and South Asia have been intertwined for centuries. And, whatever people may feel ‘They’ owe ‘Us’, we owe them a great deal for dying thousands of miles from their homes, for us.”
At last, there is
some recognition that is so long overdue.
Our hotel in Jabalpur, the Kalchuria could be good but, being run by Madhya Pradesh Tourism, it is dire. However, remembering young Naveen’s words ‘this can be fun?’, we looked on the bright side which was that the room was reasonably well appointed. The desk clerk warned us, however, that from 06.30 hours the next morning, the electricity would be off. This is a huge problem in Madhya Pradesh. Due to the state government’s lack of vision through the years, the grid cannot supply all its customers on a continuous basis. What it must cost in terms of productivity lost is unimaginable. I resolved to jump in the shower and wash and dry my hair at that minute! Mark had also taken a room and we met up for drink after which he wanted to give us dinner but, as I have said the place was appalling, so we took an auto rickshaw to another, The Sandyria, for some supper. The restaurant was busy and there were one or two other foreigners. The food was good; however, just as we had finished Graham said ‘look at that!’ A little mouse had appeared and was eating all the crumbs under the adjoining table. I told the waiters that ‘a chota chua’ was there and we received the distinct impression that it wasn’t the first time that they had seen him. We were glad that we had already eaten and indeed came to no harm. He was a dear little mouse rather like the ones Raju brings in at home that, if possible, we scoop them up in a special plastic jug and let them go in the garden or over our neighbour’s wall. These are the hazards of having an excellent mouser for a pet. Sometimes he eats them but mostly I am successful in retrieving them and taking them to safety. He used to bring in the odd little bunny; I once found one cowering under a bedcover in the spare room and just scooped up the frightened creature and took him out (well away from Graham’s vegetable garden!) The next morning, we departed at 06.30 hours having said our farewells to Mark the night before with a promise to visit him and his mother in Australia.
