Dudhwa

The soft pink light at the rear end of the passenger train paled out and eventually disappeared as the thick white mist gradually engulfed the whole station. The few waiting passengers, wrapped in their shawls and huddled together beneath a single shade of the desolate platform, appeared like ghostly figures under the yellow halogen lamp illuminating parts of the platform. It was one-thirty a.m. Weary after a whirlwind few days at Dudhwa, and rendered numb by the frosty winter of northern India, we yearned to be home.

Phulkumari stood near the entrance of her mud hut, weary of approaching strangers. We paused and smiled hoping that she would smile back and the ice would be broken. She didn’t. We took a couple of measured steps towards her. She didn’t seem to mind. Sudeshna, my wife, went forward and introduced herself. She reflected on what she heard for a few seconds and eventually smiled and mumbled back in broken Hindi. She turned and called out loud, apparently to her family, for, in an instant, a couple of kids, an elderly woman with a toddler hanging on her back fast asleep emerged from nowhere and the whole family stood queued in front of us as if awaiting marching orders. This was our first visit to a Tharu village.

True to her name, Phulkumari stood with the demeanor of a queen, in front of her blazing yellow mustard field lined by wild flowers mostly with a violet hue. The flowers were beautiful and the beds neatly arranged one after the other. We were ushered in to a courtyard bounded on three sides by mud huts with thatched bamboo roofs. Huge stacks of hay brought up the remaining side. The courtyard was neatly arranged with a charpoy placed under an asbestos shade and earthenware pots stowed away to one side. An incessant drone at one corner revealed a quaint pig sty with chickens fluttering about while a parrot kept pecking at the small metal door of its cage.

We took our seat on the charpoy and sipped on to the cold water which was served to us. Being unaware of each others tongue (their Hindi broken at best), conversation was limited to sign language and a few words here and there wherever applicable. So for example, Phulkumari pointed at the pig and made a sign of eating with her hands and mouth to ask us if we wanted an authentic tribal pork preparation. We politely shook our heads, pointed at our tummy and smiled to indicate that we were not quite up to it! In due time, after we had our due of looking around the picturesque little hamlet, we said our good byes and left.

The Tharu are a primitive tribe who has settled down to an agro-based economy. They are engaged in a number of activities typical of village folks like animal husbandry, and fishing in the Sarda River that flows through the jungle - Dudhwa National Park - close by. Their presence (as well as the presence of other villages) at the edge of the forest often brings the two into a conflict. Not surprising therefore, man-tiger conflict at Dudhwa is pretty high as compared to other national parks. Animal deaths further result from a meter gauge track that runs through the forest for the small number of settlements that are within the periphery of the park. After a series of tiger and elephant deaths, the Government has finally woken up and has decided on an attractive package – about 10 lakhs for anyone above 18 in a household – for them to evacuate. It has also decided to extend the buffer zone and connect it to the nearby Kishanpur Sanctuary, thereby creating a biological corridor of sorts. Currently, the 15 km stretch between Dudhwa and Kishanpur is all agricultural land.

Dudhwa National Park is a prominent, yet lesser known, tiger reserve near the foothills of the Himalayas in the terrai region of Uttar Pradesh near the Nepal border. The closest town Palia is about 10kms away and the nearest railhead for most tourists is Shahjahanpur. Bungalows run by the forest department inside the forest can be rented at a nominal price and the only place outside the forest but close to it is the one run by the UP Tourism – offering very basic facilities - some 5 kms away.

The reserve spreads across acres of dense forest and sprawling meadows lined in the north by the Shivalik range of the Himalayas and occasionally dotted with lakes and swamps. The forest begins way before one enters the National Park, almost half way through the road joining it with the nearest town - Palia. This road is in fact a highway which cuts through the forest and passes by the Tharu village and heads towards Nepal. All along, the road is lined on both sides with marshy lands – an ornithologist’s delight. The swamps are brimming with fish, snakes and hundreds of different smaller reptiles and insects. This obviously leads to a variety of water birds either in the water or perched on the lower branches, sitting dead still, on the look out for any trace of movement below. Some of the branches are so crowded that they look either spotless white or brownish black depending on whether it’s a flock of heron or commorant perched on it! Often one can spot a royal blue kingfisher, suddenly swooping down at full speed, scooping up a small fish from near the water surface and settling on another branch close by – all in one smooth motion. And all along, the higher branches remain occupied by the king of the skies – the eagles. Dudhwa being close to the Himalayas, one can easily spot a variety of predatory birds which are difficult to spot in the warmer forests. The chances of spotting are even higher in winter when more number of these birds come down from the higher slopes to escape the extreme climate. One may find the dark brown Serpant eagle, Pallas’ fishing eagle or even the white feathered crested hawk eagle perched on the bare branches of some dead tree often appearing like a mere extension of the branches, moving only to make a smooth, calculated descent with their huge wings flapping regally. Further inside the forest, on high branches along the river, Osprey’s aren’t difficult to site either.

The winter mornings were usually cold and foggy with the fog gradually dying down by mid-morning. The misty jungle in the early mornings was a breathtaking sight with the trees, the moss, the grass, the leaves all seemingly conspiring to create a mystical atmosphere - reminiscent of the woods of the fairy tales. I could almost catch a glimpse of Red riding hood trotting by the nearby bush! The afternoons were pleasant – we would laze around Banke Taal – a lake in the middle of the forest - and spot Barasingha’s and black necked storks basking on the small islands on the lake. The Barasingha population is larger in the larger lake at Kishanpur, though – no wonder therefore that the banks of the lake are a favorite haunt of the tiger with pug marks visible all around.

The fog that picked up again by late evening was severe and almost created zero visibility at certain stretches which made our drive back to Shahjahanpur for our night train a harrowing experience. Eventually, after at least 4-5 narrow escapes and almost certain that we had missed the train, we reached Shahjahanpur only to find that our train hadn’t even arrived – its arrival uncertain because of dense fog! There was a passenger train on the platform heading for Delhi. We ran to catch it. As luck would have it, we missed it!

Jet Set Weekend

“Wake up! Quick!” A frantic whisper from my wife - gazing ahead, her eyes almost popping out - stirred me back to life. I had dozed off waiting, waiting and waiting… A quick turn of the head in the direction of her eyes revealed a bright fiery orange something with black stripes some distance away, hidden partially by slender deep brown barks of deciduous trees. It was a tiger! A huge male (the guide put it down to about 200 pounds) tiger - sauntering through the bush land and scarce vegetation so characteristic of the dry climate of Ranthambhor National Park. Gorgeous, hypnotic, mystique were the words that came to mind in a snap! Bulky, yet regal in every move it made.
Ranthambhor, lying in a cradle formed by the Aravalli and the Vindhya ranges - two very old mountain ranges – in Rajasthan is home to around 30 odd tigers and along with Kanha, Bandhavgarh, Pench and Corbett ranks pretty high in the Project Tiger success list. So much so that tiger cubs from the park fitted with radio collars, (for the first time in India) are being moved to nearby Sariska for a fresh lease of life – rampant poaching by hunter gatherers from the Mogiya tribe unfortunately being the reason for its extinction there. In fact in one sting operation in the early nineties TRAFFIC (an organization that monitors the wildlife trade for the World Wildlife Fund) had discovered dozens of families in Delhi’s Sadar Bazaar engaged in the trade of animal body parts. After all a tiger skin can fetch more than $1500! As the availability decreases with tiger numbers, the prices soar. And with a buoyant Asian economy, affordability is only increasing. Wildlife protection forces are usually understaffed and the budget laid out for conservation by the Government is meager at best. The situation worsens when there are religious sites present within the premises of the reserve – as is the case with both Sariska and Ranthambhor. This allows unrestricted human entry within the park and makes poaching control trickier.
His highness paused for a second to cast a fleeting glance at his subjects – the event being noted and marked by a zillion clicks from all possible photography equipment on show from the zillion gypsys that had gathered there – word of the monarch spreads like lightning in these parts; and that too, if I may add, by word of mouth! The langoors, sambhars, cheetals, peacocks all play their own part in this evolved mode of communication which can be described in simple terms as an “alarm call” traceable even at large distances. The tiger turned its head and walked away apparently irritated by the high decibel levels being maintained in its realm; for few park visitors in India are aware of the etiquette to be followed in the jungle. For most, it’s just another outing on a weekend where they cut loose and yell at close to top of their voices and sometimes even go to the extent of littering the parklands!
Education and awareness of the importance of the jungle, not only from an aesthetic view, but also from an ecological perspective which has the potential for impacting the economy of the country, is imperative for its survival in the long run. This is something where the wild life department needs to dig deep and come up with plausible solutions. Without a nation wide awareness about the need and ways of the jungle, saving it would require a Herculean effort, not to say it doesn’t already does so!
The terrain of Ranthambhor is unique. At the far end there are the two mountain ranges forming a V like pattern. The near end is fenced by the huge Ranthambhor fort – built by a Rajput ruler and now largely in ruins. Nested in between is the major portion of the forest with tracts of undulated grass lands and three beautiful lakes. The grasslands here are different from the ones in Kanha where it stretches till the end of ones imagination; here, because of the hilly nature of the terrain the land climbs up now only to take a plunge the next to form a sort of valley – and all the while brooks, seeming to come from the magical places which are “the haunts of coot and hern” immortalized so well by Tennyson, spurt by in a hurry, sweeping away almost anything that dared hinder their march. What with early rains (mid-June) this year Ranthambhor was exploding with life. The usual dry dusty sparsely vegetated land was transformed into a bright green bushy garden with even the lakes taking on a greenish hue. Crocodiles or magar as it is known in India swarm the lakes which are also the hunting ground for a large number of wading birds including herons, a variety of storks, mallards, stirlings etc. The birds patiently look out for a catch – remaining stationary for minutes at an end sometimes - while the crocs appear to be prepared to wait as long as it takes to lay an ambush. Often one can notice a stork take a furtive step or two towards a potential prey only to squinch back on detecting a croc taking a sun bath in its way. Now and again we would come across a small brown hare nibbling on a light snack in the afternoon or a woodpecker making heavy weather of a thick dark bark of a tree as ancient as the earth itself. The hilly parts on the other hand provide a better opportunity to spot predatory birds and provide a breathtaking view of the plains below.
Unfortunately, Ranthambhor doesn’t have any forest rest house within the park. Hence, one has to put up at the various hotels outside the periphery of the park. The state tourism hotels are reasonably priced and have decent facilities, though the efficiency of service is poor. One good place to stay could be the Ranthambhor Bagh, owned and run by Aditya Singh, a dedicated conservationist and photographer. Herds of photographers, wildlife enthusiasts, naturalists etc usually drop anchor there during their visits to the park, hence one could be in for some very interesting and intellectually stimulating evenings with loads of tips and suggestions coming ones way. There one can also run into Salim Ali, a very competent naturalist and “tiger driver” who has worked with BBC on various projects. If one can enlist him for ones services as a guide during ones stay there one is assured of a trip worth remembering! At least the chances of spotting a tiger will surely move up by several notches.
Ranthambhor National Park, which is a part of the much larger Ranthambhor Tiger Reserve, lies in the Sawai Madhopur district of eastern Rajasthan. The Sawai Madhopur Sanctuary, followed by the Sawai Mansingh Sanctuary and the Qualji Closed Area lies further South-West of the park. Sawai Madhopur, the nearest rail head, is 5 hrs by train from New Delhi. Mewar express and Shatabdi both link the two towns with daily runs. The town is accessible by road as well, however what with roads being is poor shape, the journey might take about 9-10 hrs!

Kipling's Den?

Anyone who has sat through the popular Disney animation film “The Jungle Book” or browsed through the book of the same name by Rudyard Kipling will concur the setting is idyllic. It is often said that Kipling had Kanha at the back of his mind while immortalising the jungle life in his story. Need anything more be said? Isn’t it the ultimate praise that can be showered on a jungle? Set in the eastern fringes of the country’s heartland – Madhya Pradesh – this 940 square kilometre of wilderness is beauty personified.

We arrived at the MTDC resort at Mukki (the park has 2 gates – Kisli and Mukki), close to the main entrance of the park one morning, the weekend just before Christmas. Immediately after lunch we set out for our first Park ride. Almost as soon as we entered we were greeted by a herd of Cheetals (spotted deer) grazing languidly some distance away. As we moved ahead, the road, lined by Sal trees on both sides, suddenly opened up into a vast meadow reminiscent of the East African savannas. The yellowish hue of dried grass contrasted splendidly with the deep green bush land on its periphery, capped perfectly by the royal blue canvas above. On and off one can spot a Sambhar reaching out to pluck leaves from the scattered trees or a flock of Cheetals making their way to the nearest water-hole. And then the gypsy would enter a dark, cold, thickly wooded part of the forest, entirely impregnable to the soothing winter sun; and then again we would come out through a serpentine path in the middle of a swamp, with flocks of mallards and other wading birds, not to mention the egrets, herons and the kingfishers hovering above, waiting for the opportune moment to plunge at an unsuspecting prey. It is this contrast - of terrain, of flora, of colour, of scent, of light and shades – that makes Kanha exhilarating.

“Pitter-patter, pitter-patter” - little drops of water hitting the glass and dripping off onto the window sill woke us early the next day. We rushed to the door anxiously. We were touring in an open gypsy – ideal for safari. Rain would ensure that we had the hood on and that would spoil the ride entirely. Thankfully, it turned out to be dew dripping from the leaves above!

We entered the park at day break and headed straight for a ticket counter to enrol ourselves for the ‘Tiger Show’ in case the mahouts who leave at around the same time to comb the forest in search of the big cat do return with news. As and when the mahouts report a ‘sighting’, the word is spread and the forest officials reach the spot with a few of their tame elephants. All vehicles are stopped at a distance from the spot so as not to be a source of disturbance for Sher Khan. (To what extent they are successful, however, can be a matter of extensive debate.) The visitors are then led through the dense foliage by haathi to catch a quick pricey glimpse of the elusive monarch (it costs Rs.200/- per head over and above the cost of the park ride).We enrolled and went about our usual park ride. We sighted a Barasingha couple (Swamp deer), found only in Kanha, grazing nearby. In fact there is a special protected area for the Barasingha whose population had dropped to less than 60 a few years back. Careful preservation however has raised the number to over thousand now. And then came the news! Only a rumour from the driver of a passing gypsy to begin with, we received confirmation soon after. Sher Khan has been spotted! We drove at almost break neck speed for the next half an hour or so to collect our token at the enrolment centre and head towards the spot, with the terrain changing gradually from level plain to a hilly one.

The first impression was that of disappointment. When one visits the wild or makes a conscious decision to tour a less frequented place, the last thing he wants is the companionship of a horde of fellow humans – and that’s exactly what lay in store for us here. The whole place thronged with gypsies. The officials had a tough time in keeping order. Their repeated pleas to ensure that we don’t step out and await our turn in silence, however, helped create an atmosphere of suppressed excitement. We were fifth in line. Each elephant could carry only 3 people. We anxiously anticipated our turn as one by one the elephants left for the rendezvous with the King, urging the Almighty to use all His powers to keep it rooted there a little more. Finally our turn arrived. Climbing up the ladder with cautious steps, for the huge brute was insistent on rummaging through a pile of dead grass and sneezing continuously, we took positions on its back. Positions, we thought, would be strategic in providing us with the best view. With our cameras ready and the mahout “pulling the trigger” with his whiplash, we were off!

I have often wondered the reason why there aren’t too many television programs on Indian wildlife. All those lovely shows that we see in National Geographic on African safari! Aside from a program or two, there’s very little on India. The answer hit me from all sides while seated on the elephant. As soon as you step inside the bushes from the jungle path, the first thing you realise is that the visibility drops to less than a few yards ahead. On top of that moving around becomes next to impossible. No African forest comes as close in terms of the dense foliage and undergrowth to the tropical forests. It is simply not viable for a crew with all its equipments to move amidst this maze of branches, fallen trees and cluster of bamboos. The elephant is the only useful mode of transport. Neither is a zoom lens of much use where your view is blocked by an impenetrable mesh of leaves and branches for most of the time. For haathi, it’s a cinch though. He surged ahead, dextrously using his snout to remove the twigs and shoots that attempted to stall his progress, before long we were there. And there lay the regal Khan, resting, possibly after a sumptuous meal, under the shades of the forest canopy. The crackle of dry leaves had informed him of our arrival. He looked up at us for a moment with that royal air. Just long enough for us to press the shutter. Royal ‘sighting’, being high in demand, no sooner had we had the chance to overcome the initial awe and get down to clicking a few snaps, the mahout had already used his whiplash and we were off once again.
“Off season mein aiye babu….pura ghuma sakte hain....season mein bahoot mushkil” cries out the guide assigned to us. Evidence of what he says is all around. Christmas and New Years being pretty much vacation time for most, there are almost 170 gypsys at a given time in the forest making viewing animals pretty much difficult. The noise and whirl of dusts drive most of the animals into the thicker woods. Hence, what the officials do is allot specific routes for every vehicle entering the Park. Thus one remains restricted to a small portion of the jungle. Even then almost at every turn one can expect to stumble over other vehicles. During off seasons since the guide can take one through the entire forest, and with vehicle population being far lower, chances of ‘sightings’ are much higher. Summers are anyways the best season to sight game. With sources of water shrinking, animals are forced to gather in the few remaining water-holes, thus, making it easier to track and view.

So, pack your bags this summer, beat the heat, and head for the wild! This breathtaking beauty lies only a few hours journey by car from Jabalpur. Unless one is a ‘wild’ fanatic, the ideal thing to do would be to club it along with places like Jabalpur, Panchmari, Amar Kantak or north to Khajuraho, Orchha, and Gwalior etc., or even west to Sanchi and Bhimbetka. It’s worth every penny!