Bandhavgarh

The watery fog just didn’t lift that wintry afternoon. Huddled together with Atashi, my wife, in the rear of the car, I wondered yet again if it was a good idea to abandon the luxuries of a warm home for a cold enchanting forest. Nizammuddin railway station seemed almost too distant and the usual rigours of a winter travel schedule were beginning to tell on my nerves. But, once boarded and comfortably settled in the Utkal-Kalinga Express – Bandhavgarh seemed enticing after all.

Umaria at 5.45am – lonely little station, tea shacks and a few commuters – that was all. Sipping a hot cup of spicy tea I looked out for my brother-in-law, Vikram’s attendant who would be driving us the remaining forty five minutes to his splendid rest house on the outskirts of the delightful reserve forest. Shiv Kumar arrived sleepy-eyed and broke into an uneasy smile as he spotted us. Ushering us into his spacious Bolero, which we understood is also used to ferry locals and their wares from the adjoining commercial centre of Katni, he embarked on a tirade on Bandhavgarh’s virtues.

Umaria disappeared within seconds; a small town with a bustling bazaar. As the gently undulating Vindhyas filled the horizon, I gazed in wonder at the thick expanse of sal and bamboo forests spread out on either side of the road. Atashi’s quick gasp and a tug at my arm revealed a silent pack of jackals trotting past in the quiet clear sunlight of the morning. Soon followed more jungle creatures, energetic and alert, barking deer to the brilliantly coloured parrots and peacock - all a wonder for the senses.

Vikram’s cottage stood before us, radiantly whitewashed. As our co-passengers proceeded to Madhya Pradesh tourism guesthouse and other private hotels, we waved a goodbye with a promise to meet them inside the 132 sq.km forest later in the evening. The morning we decided would be spent sampling the delights of the small town of Bandhavgarh. Beginning with mouthwatering hot samosas and jalebis, we even sampled luchi and aloo-dum at a local Bengalee eatery. Sponging up like ravenous convicts we washed it all down with some more hot elaichi tea and a sweet which looked and tasted like gulab jamun – yet was called rasogulla.

We were ready - the jungle gates opened at 2 in the afternoon and our safari gypsy had arrived right on time. Armed with a guide, driver and his tiny little brave daughter Munmun, our anticipation to face the Royal Bengal Tiger was palpable. But would the great one consent… As my mind churned out debates about how the jungle was more than a tiger and how we should delight in spotting anything at all –even if it was the ubiquitous spotted deer, sambhar, nilgai, wild boar, langur, etc. – my heart still hoped for that elusive glimpse of the forest supremo. The forest was beautiful, no doubt, with dense patches of thickets and a fabulous waterfall at Charanganga where we ached to touch its pristine waters, yet were barred from setting a single toe on the forest floor. The tiger they say, can be just anywhere –so beware. But this evening the tiger it seems, was content in just spotting us from behind the thickets. As we left the park by 5.15 that evening, we promised ourselves another trip the very next day, just in case...

At 6.30 am, fighting the biting cold, we drove into forest which had magically transformed itself into a sun dappled tapestry of light and shade. The tortuous brown paths and myriad calls of jungle folk created an enchanted world of fairy tales. Although visitors like us were only treated to a small portion of the reserve – we were truly impressed with the richness of the spread before us. I softly held Atashi’s hand and smiled vacantly at the woods as the cold air cut into my jacket and chilled my ageing bones.

Suddenly a commotion broke my reverie – a tiger, or to be precise a tigress had been spotted somewhere and we could access it only on elephant back. Take a round- reach a grassy opening –stand on the head rod of the safari gypsy – climb on to the gently rocking giant – all happened in a daze. Atashi, always lithe on her foot, managed to clamber on without any difficulty. I however got tangled and needed some help to pull me out of a hopelessly ridiculous situation. All nerves, I said, spotting a tigress is not an everyday event you see.

There she was, with her two little cubs. What an incredibly beautiful creature, imposing and splendidly marked with a haughtily bored expression that just took the cake. The cubs on the other hand were yet to learn the tricks of the trade and remained the tiny frolicking monsters they were born as. As the elephant turned back to bring more people to this ‘show’ I arched my aching neck as far back as could to catch the last few memories of black stripes rippling in the gentle winter sunlight.

‘Just once more’ I begged, as Atashi grew restless with my obsession of the forest. ‘Tomorrow’, she insisted taking Vikram’s side and dragging me to the three day mela of the Kabir Panthi Ashram. Blaring mikes and hordes of devotees was not my kind of fun – yet pottering through the colourful stalls selling just about anything from chappals to shawls – I couldn’t help ponder over the vibrancy of our culture.

B2 happened the next day. A strange name for such a magnificent creature, this alpha male whose mate we had sighted the day before stood before us daintily swishing his tail. A yawn - a stretch and off he sauntered carelessly across the gypsy laden path to disappear into the green expanse beyond. A unanimous whoop of delight broke the morning air, and gorged in euphoria we headed back to Vikram’s pad. The best spotting season they said was between May and June when the grasses had burnt down and the water holes were the animals’ favourite spot – but weren’t we more than just lucky to spot not one but four of these exquisite animals?

Forlornly happy we ended our five day trip to Bandhavgarh-with a wish in our hearts to return again, soon.

Back in Delhi, the photographs at last arrived. Some I were happy with, others I thought, could have been better – yet of all my expeditions this was by far the best. On that front neither Atashi nor me harboured any dispute.
 

In the present context ...
Despite the fact that I thoroughly enjoyed my expedition Bandhavgarh- I can’t stop agonizing over the daily reports of neglect of our parks and their inhabitants. The very Bandhavgarh that I love so deeply has emerged tainted with reports of blood and gore of so many of our jungle creatures.

A current report, prepared by P V Jayakrishnan, Chairman of a special committee of the Supreme Court and Valmiki Thapar, points towards forest officers who seem to be seriously neglecting the Magdi, Katwa and Khatauli ranges that holds the park’s deepest forests where even we ordinary mortals were not allowed. Reportedly within the Khatauli range, the committee found a 36-feet wide road being constructed, supposedly unknown even to the forest director. Besides trees and bamboo are felled illegally as entry into the park is assured by corrupt guards and officials. Examples of such malpractices are rampant.

Visiting Bandhavgrah, we found a tea shack in the midst of the wilderness. Sipping the piping hot tea that cold wintry morning–I hardly stopped to think what it was doing there. Yet as I look back I wonder how the locals were allowed to open a shop and run it fullfledgely deep within the park precincts.

It is a marvel that I still spotted the striped wild wonder.