Hindustan Times ST (Mumbai) - Brunch
JUNGLE BOOK
When one Bengal tiger seeks another, nothing but a video-shooting driver will stand in his way
Iwobble out of bed with some effort but am still not sure if I should grab the toothbrush or surrender myself back to slumber. No Bengali bhadralok wakes up at this odd hour unless Brazil is playing in the World Cup finals or he happens to be in love.
Outside the window, the night is as black as a cast iron skillet. The morning seems miles away and even the tree leaves are not rustling to announce, Jagadish Bose zindabad, we are alive.
As I have invested a lot of money and my wife is nearly ready for another morning safari at the Panna National Park, I put on my vest, thermal innerwear, half-sleeve shirt, full-sleeve jumper, jacket, muffler, woollen socks and monkey cap, and venture out to find our safari jeep.
SHER CAN’T
Amid the silhouette of the bushes, a lanky young body bends to greet us with namaste. He is the jeep driver for our last safari in Panna. Clad in torn blue jeans and a bright green windcheater, he smiles and informs us that he has been in this profession for the past three years. To earn some more dividends of reliability, he, Ballu, adds that he has secured a brilliant guide who is waiting for us at the Madla gate.
Our previous two trips have been marred with wasted opportunities to see a tiger. We heard a few ‘calls’, crisscrossed the jungle and came back bathed in dust, but couldn’t spot the cautious carnivore. The previous guide was a greybeard. “Raja ji can be seen only when he wants to be seen.
If he doesn’t want to be seen, you can’t spot him even if you spend an entire day in the forest,” he told us.
Meanwhile, the sky has brightened with the prospect of a sunny
day. Unknown birds are chirping. The morning mist has gathered below the trees like sight screens in a cricket ground. At a distance, the Ken river lies like a satiated python who has just finished a meal. The myriad sounds and smells of the jungle are just coming to life.
We drive past shrubs covered in dew, shimmering like a Punjabi bride. A few curious deer stop grazing to check us out. There are hardly 10 safari jeeps as Panna is not as glamorous as its counterparts, Kanha and Bandhavgarh. We roll our jeep through clusters of faded grass till we reach a Y-shaped crossing.
Nine jeeps turned right. Our driver, Ballu is a Leftist. The guide warns from the back seat, “Oye Ballu, why did you take this route?”
The young driver, boiling in energy like a pressure cooker, retorts, “Saab ko tiger dikhana hai.”
For the next half an hour we roam around the vast grasslands, along ponds formed in the middle of rocks, through an undulating terrain as the soft, morning sun washes the greenery in brightness. We see wild boars happily digging the ground for insects, scores of deer munching grass at leisure. A pond heron is perched at the edge of the water while an eagle and a kite inspect the world from the tree top. The light breeze sweeping across the jungle with the fresh scent of tendu leaves is so invigorating that I almost feel convinced that it was a good idea to get up early.
A sharp bellow of a deer pierces through this apparent calmness. The car halts immediately. The guide, with years of experience, whispers, “It’s a Call, Sahab. It’s the Call of a deer. It means a tiger is nearby.”
A couple of Calls come in quick succession. The guide also spots a peacock that has started screaming while flying away from an apparent danger. The misty morning is all set for action along the banks of Ken river.
We wait with bated breath for what could be our first tryst with a tiger in the wild. I have been to Jim Corbett, Sunderbans and Kaziranga, but every time tigers have proved to be elusive. A photographer friend once offered consolations after a failed attempt: “How can you see a tiger when two adult tigers don’t usually come to the same place?”
GO LEFT, YOUNG MAN
CALL TO ACTION
THROUGH AN UNDULATING TERRAIN AS THE SOFT, MORNING SUN WASHES THE GREENERY IN BRIGHTNESS, WE SEE WILD BOARS HAPPILY DIGGING THE GROUND FOR INSECTS ....
few minutes ago and if we had held our position, we would have surely said hello to him.
I am devastated. The guide is angry, and Ruchira, as usual, is blaming me for the fiasco. But Ballu is unperturbed.
“Sir ji, don’t worry,” he approaches me during a tea break, “I will Whatsapp you videos of tigers when
I spot them next time. sitting in Delhi. You can show the video to your friends as well.”
P.S. My colleague Shivani Singh returned from Tadoba. “Did you see tigers?” I asked her. “We saw five of them,” she beamed in joy.
I have already started planning a trip to Tadoba.