These days, travelling has become synonymous with getting the passport stamped. While thinking of a wildlife safari, the first thing that comes to mind is Africa. It is exotic, expensive, and ‘cool’. But sometimes our zeal to see the world, we forget about the treasures lying in our own backyard. Yes, Africa is beautiful, and the sightings are great, and they have the Big Five. But what they do not have are Tigers—possibly the most majestic beasts walking this planet. India has around 3,682 tigers, which is 75 per cent of the world's wild tiger population, in its 55 tiger reserves. But catching sight of the elusive animal in the wild is both rare and thrilling. Here is memoir of spotting tigers across five Indian national parks. 

Prelude

Folklores and urban legends of the Sundarbans—the supernatural adventures of folk deities Bonbibi (the guardian spirit who protects the inhabitants from forces of nature) and Dakshin Rai (the lord of the tiger who rules the jungle), who are ubiquitously worshipped by people of all religions in the area, and of course the blood-curdling tales of its most vicious and majestic resident, the man-eating Royal Bengal Tigers—have been part of my childhood thanks to our house help who hailed from one of its remote villages. In fact, the word ‘tiger’ had become synonymous with something mysterious and evil, something that is terrifyingly beautiful. Later, we had multiple family trips to the Sundarbans (just a few hours from Kolkata) on houseboats and launches and the fear of a sudden tiger attack always loomed large, especially in the nights. The low-lying islands in the Bay of Bengal, spread across India and Bangladesh which form the largest delta in the world is famous for its unique mangrove forests, are notorious for its human-tiger conflict, and the topography makes it extra challenging to spot one from afar. And even a few years back tiger attacks were common. What is not common however is for tourists to spot a tiger. In fact, having managed to spot only a few pugmarks over the years, I had almost started to dismiss the animal as a mythical being. That was until I visited the tiger reserves outside my homeland. While in college I picked up a boyfriend who was obsessed with tigers. With him, I first visited a national park. And as luck would have it, we saw four tigers on our very first safari. Seeing a tiger in the wild in all its glory is a magical experience; watching the magnificent beast inside the forest had a profound impact on me—it made me realise how the trappings of ‘civilisation’ takes one away from experiencing such pure divinity of nature. Post that trip, I fell in love with the forests and these striped beasts. And strangely enough, after that, whenever I have visited a tiger reserve, the god of sightings has always been quite gracious. Maybe mother nature can sense your vibe—my trips to Sundarbans were that of a scared child, but in later years it was pure love for nature that had dragged me to the forests. 

Here are a few pages from the diary of a serial spotter: 

Love at first sight 

(Bandhavgarh National Park)  
 

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,  

In the forests of the night;  

What immortal hand or eye,  

Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

-William Blake

It was December 2006. My first trip without ‘parental guidance’, and my first-time catching sight of the majestic beast with ‘fearful symmetry’ in the wild.  

The wake-up call rang at 5 am sharp. Sheathed in woollens I stepped out for the morning safari and the moment I did I froze—it was 2 degrees! I hopped onto the open jeep and rode right into what seemed to be a dream sequence—there was mist rising from the lush green ground, the tall silhouettes of Sal trees piercing the scant clouds had a mystical glow on them, a groggy sun had just spilled some inky orange over the cold winter sky making the moon blush, and there was an intoxicating smell of the dew-drenched foliage enveloping the forest. I had a very cheerful driver and an extremely knowledgeable forest guard to keep me company who intermittently in a very low voice kept explaining to this tiger-sightings virgin the different types of ‘calls’, tiger trails, pugmarks, along with sharing anecdotes of tiger spottings and even a few folklores. I was told that tigers of Bandhavgarh are Natgeo and Discovery channel regulars and have no qualms being ogled at. We spotted Nilgais, chausinghas, chitals, chinkaras, langurs, monkeys, wild boars—if some were sucker for limelight and kept posing for photos, some were too camera shy, whereas some simply chose to ignore us. It was my first time in a forest, and I was enjoying every bit of it. But even after about 4 hours of soaking up the wonderous wilderness and a host of ‘false alarms’ in the form of langur and chital ‘calls’, there was no sign of the royal beauty.

Finally, the forest guard’s precious Nokia 3310 brought the news of a tiger being spotted by another jeep nearby. The next few minutes were like a chase scene from a Bond movie. It was a mad race to be the first to reach the spot for the best ‘view’ and ours was the third jeep to arrive. There were forest department elephants [Note: elephant safaris are now banned in Bandhavgarh] to give the tourist a closer look at jungle royalty. Mine was a baby elephant with absolutely no manners and not an ounce of interest in tigers or tourists—it kept on getting tempted by fresh leaves and it was quite a task to get the truant toddler to follow instructions. But when we finally reached the spot, my heart almost skipped a beat—nestled in the bushes was a doting mom and her three playful cubs feasting on a wild boar! It was one of the goriest yet one of the most stunningly beautiful sights I had come across. As I was trying to adjust myself on the (still moving) elephant to click a picture, I caught the eye of one of the cubs—it was keenly looking at something behind my elephant. As I turned my gaze, I spotted a large full-grown tiger walking by. It had the gait of royalty. It was drop dead gorgeous and a sight to behold. If Michelangelo has his David, and Cezanne has his apples, for Mr God, it is definitely the Royal Bengal Tigers—his masterpiece.  

For me, it was love at first sighting! 
  

She Walks in Beauty 
(Jim Corbett National Park) 

What the hammer? what the chain, 

In what furnace was thy brain? 

What the anvil? what dread grasp. 

Dare its deadly terrors clasp? 

-William Blake 

After my first brush with the forest and tigers, I was craving to go back. But after that perfect trip to Bandhavgarh, I was a bit scared of getting disappointed on my second attempt. What if I was not that lucky this time? Anyway, after one whole year of contemplating, I decided to give it another shot.

It was January 2009, and I was on my way to Jim Corbett National Park. Originally known as Hailey National Park, it is the First Tiger Reserve in India, established in 1936, long before the official launch of Project Tiger in 1973. I was staying at the Dhikala Forest Lodge, it is situated right next to the core area and is arguably the best place to stay if you want to truly experience the beauty of this forest. But what welcomed me was a gory sight. Just a few minutes from the forest lodge lay a half-eaten carcass of a sambar deer in a pool of thick blood. The forest guard who was accompanying me told me that a tiger had killed it last evening and will return to feast on it again sometime today. I shuddered.  Isn’t this too close for comfort? What if the tiger comes inside the lodge? “Yes madam, that also happens,” the driver smiled. As if I was talking about a stray cat. “But they don’t eat humans,” he added. So, even they have dietary preferences! But is human meat that bad? Should I, as a human, feel offended by this? Well, before I could figure out my emotions, I had already reached the lodge. But while still at the reception, the manager got the news that a tiger was spotted nearby. Within seconds he arranged for a jeep and packed me into it. “Off you go! We will put your luggage in the room”. By the time he finished his sentence, we had already crossed the gate. The driver seemed to be possessed by the spirit of Michael Schumacher; and I was already too exhausted from the journey to enjoy this adrenalin rush. Moreover, Corbett is a huge forest and tiger sightings are extremely rare. I was not really expecting to spot one, definitely not on the first day. But there it was! On the rocky, almost dry riverbed in the valley below. It was quite far from the car, but the driver was armed with a binocular. Through it I could vividly see the majestic beast getting up with water dripping from its glistening striped coat. It was a gorgeous sight. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty that I could feel a tear roll down my cheeks. It was truly a moment of pure perfection, and it is such moments that tempt you to believe in the existence of God.  

The Wild Wild West 

(Ranthambore National Park) 

In what distant deeps or skies.  

Burnt the fire of thine eyes? 

On what wings dare he aspire? 

What the hand, dare seize the fire? 

-William Blake

It was February 2012. A teeth-chattering two-hour ride on the proverbial ‘hari rang ki gari’ (it seemed nobody has ever bothered to know the number of this green-coloured bus and I thanked my stars for not being colour blind) from Uniyara had landed me near the gate of my hotel in Sawai Madhopur. I bumped into the manager before even entering the resort who announced that the last bus for the evening safari had just left. So, it was not until next morning that I embarked on the tiger trail. Ranthambhore has five zones open for the tourists in the core area and tiger sightings are not rare. There are two modes of transport for safaris—the 6-seater Gypsies and the 20-seater Canters—and the seats are randomly allotted by a lucky draw. I was certainly not lucky enough to get a Gypsy that morning. And as a double whammy, owing to an extended holiday, multiple bunches of antakshari-loving picnickers had unleashed themselves on the tiger haven shattering the forest quiet. As I boarded the Canter, not only there were people cracking jokes and shouting at the top of their voices, but I was welcomed by the shrill cry of a few months old baby—and to my horror its parents changed his diaper and nonchalantly flung the soiled diaper into the forest. But before I could react, the Canter stopped. “There! T-6 with its kill!” shouted the forest guard. And behind the shrubs was the striped beast sitting majestically in front of the bloody remains of its morning feast. What a sight! The driver stopped the Canter to wait for the tiger to get up, which will give us a better view. But the picnic bunch had by then lost interest, and some even remarked, “Arey isse achcha to zoo mein dekh lengey”. I was dreading that they might resume their antakshari session if we waited there any longer, but the baby took charge instead. It started crying waking up another baby, whom I had so far mistaken as a bundle of shawls and sweaters. Unable to appreciate their cacophonous duet, the tiger started growling. Not a great sign. Nobody wanted to become the second course of his breakfast, and the canter left the spot. A few dozens of deer, antelope, peacocks, wild boars, and monkeys later we spotted a sloth bear—one animal that is even more difficult to find in this forest than a tiger. The Canter stopped and the bear started walking towards us munching leaves. The driver cautioned us to be absolutely quiet as any noise can startle it and sloth bears can turn extremely violent if provoked. Thankfully the two babies had tired their lungs and fallen asleep. But suddenly the silence was broken by an affectionate voice: “doggy kahan hay doggy” ah of course I forgot the moms! A woman had found this to be that auspicious moment where she needs to teach her toddler about doggies. And she was pointing towards the bear and screaming ‘doggy aao’. The bear got adequately offended at being called a doggy and made a face before disappearing into the bushes. For the first time in my life, I was glad that the Safari was over. 

Lady Luck 

(Sariska Tiger Reserve) 

And what shoulder, & what art, 

Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 

And when thy heart began to beat. 

What dread hand? & what dread feet? 

-William Blake 

Sariska, an hour-long bus ride from Alwar, is not as popular among tourists as Ranthambor.  Somewhere in the beginning of 2005, it was discovered that the poachers have wiped out the entire tiger population of this region and in 2008, tigers were slowly reintroduced to this Reserve. When I visited Sariska Tiger Reserve in 2012, there were just about 7 tigers and the chances of spotting one was almost next to nil. But by then, I was in love with forests and the idea of one not bustling with tourists was tempting enough. And then, I was told that instead of canters, tourists can avail individual jeeps here. Which not only meant a respite from whining babies, but it is easier to explore the interiors of the forest in jeeps.

Ours was the only vehicle on the route apart from a few occasional patrol cars. The forest guard, who was the car, decided to check the control room for tiger movements (all tigers in Sariska are radio collared and hence can be tracked). Apparently, there was a signal, though a frail one, coming from top of one of the hills, and our forest guard said that his ‘gut feeling’ is that it might come down in another half an hour and cross a road. Nothing works better than a forest guard’s gut feeling in times such as these…so, we decided to give it a shot. We drove to the road which the tiger might cross and waited. And w.a.i.t.e.d.  

There was an eerie calm, and we could almost feel one another’s heartbeats. It was certainly not one of the best places to park a car—the tiger might come from any side and the guy might just not be in the mood for visitors. In times like these reading the hanuman chalisa, or a mere raamnaam are usually suggested as morale boosters but being an atheist all I found myself muttering was the Mountain Dew tagline: Dar ke agey jeet hay. 

After almost an hour’s wait, our driver suggested that we go back and recheck the signals. We turned the jeep. But half-way to the control room the guard’s gut feeling again kicked in. He insisted that we go back and wait at the same spot. Although the driver was reluctant, since there were hardly 45 minutes left until all vehicles are supposed to be out of the park anyway, he made a U-turn. As we reached the intersection of the road, there it was! Walking majestically down the road. “This is the first time I am seeing this one! It is the ST-6—one of the two male tigers!” whispered the guard. The driver slowly started following the tiger and I started clicking. After some time, it turned back and faced the camera with an amused look.  For the next 15/20 minutes we kept following it until it got bored with all the attention and went down into the jungle.  

I pinched myself. Ouch! It seems I am the lady with the luck… at least when it comes to spotting tigers! 

Sunny side up 

(Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve) 

When the stars threw down their spears  

And water'd heaven with their tears: 

Did he smile his work to see? 

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

-William Blake 

It was May 2018. The time was around 3pm. From a long shot, it resembled a heart-pounding, edge-of-the-seat (quite literally) Hollywood off-road chase scene through an arid forest with five heavy-duty SUVs following one another through a cloud of dust in top speed. It was 44 degrees. I was feeling every bit like a burnt bread popping out of a toaster; the attempt was however to not get ejected from the scorching open jeep.

No, we were not in hot pursuit of some cowboy gangster, and it was not the Wild Wild West. In fact, we were near Nagpur, Maharashtra. The scene was unfolding in the Tadoba—an hour’s drive from Chandrapur Railway Station and home to the state’s oldest and largest tiger reserve. And all these camera-toting tourist laden jeeps were rushing to the location where apparently a tiger has been spotted by some forest guards about 10 minutes back. When we finally reached, it was already another 30 mins and chances of the tiger still being there was slim. But as the first car screeched to a halt, the rest of the cavalcade followed suit. There were already other cars lined up on the road. From my car, I could see a tiny silhouette of a tiger slowly emerging on the stretch in front of the first car and crossing it. By now the tourist (this was before the Instagram reels era) from the other cars in front of me had propped their cameras blocking my view. The next few minutes, which seemed like an eternity, were utterly frustrating—all I could see were cameras and hats as the click of shutters echoed through the forest and the tiger eventually vanished inside the bushes. Dejected we left the spot. The driver took a trail that didn’t have any other tourist vehicle (which can also mean that the chances of a sighting on the path were less). But since I love forests, with or without the tiger sightings, I didn’t mind. I wanted to be as far from the maddening crowd as possible. 

 As luck would have it, about 15 minutes later, we caught a tiger yawning sitting on the side of the dirt road. “That is Madhuri” the driver informed. “How do you know?” I ed. “She has only half of her right ear,” he quipped. As the car slowly rolled near her, Madhuri let out a soft roar and started walking. We followed. She led us to the Tadoba Lake and plonked herself near its brim facing the golden-hued waterbody. She seemed to be in a rather mellow mood. “She loves the sunset, and this is one of her favourite spots to chill in the evening,” the forest guard quipped. And I couldn’t help but appreciate her aesthetic sense as I sat in the car watching the majestic creature basking in the sunset blush. It was a perfect evening. 

The next day we started the safari at the crack of dawn as I wanted to return to the resort before the mid-day sun turned me into a human crisp. It was still a bit dark, but we spotted a lump of striped fur. As we got closer, there were three cubs; one was sleeping on its back with its face and two front paws pointing towards the sky! The rest of its body was behind the bushes. “The babies are still sleeping,” the driver said as he slowly drove past them making sure that the noise of the car didn’t wake them up. But the sun had already woken up and its sharp summer rays were vengefully clawing away the dark blanket of the night. Unlike the emerald winter forests, what lay in front of us was a parched and cracked-up ochre landscape that smelled of thirst. The driver had received information on his mobile phone about a sighting nearby and we rushed towards it. This time it was Chhoti Madhu. We spotted her sauntering through riverbed near a culvert and thankfully there were not many cars yet.  

As we were returning, it was the same route, and the forest guard decided to check on the sleeping cubs. They were up and frolicking in the water. “These are two-year old cubs” the guard informed. And like every toddler, these three seemed extremely mischievous and were constantly poking each other. But suddenly a monkey dropped by to say hello to them and the two got so scared that they ran into the bushes (I think they were still not aware of the fact that they are tigers, and ideally it is the monkey that should get scared of them...but then kids are usually dumb) and promptly dozed off. Sleep indeed can be the solution to even the gravest of problems. 

How to do it right  

Here are a few tips gleaned from my experiences on tiger safaris: Try to stay at the government forest bungalows or the tourism board-run properties as they are usually at the best locations. Since the safaris are conducted by the forest department and only the govt-approved vehicles are allowed, especially into the core areas, if you are staying at their properties, you often get priority when the vehicles are allotted (if it is not through lottery). Also, you get the crucial updated and authentic information direct from the forest department network. Opt for safaris in the core areas. Find out the previous week’s sightings and where which tiger was last seen and their current movement. Always try to be the first car in and the last car out. You don’t want your view to be blocked by the cameras from the cars in front of you. Talking about cameras, if possible, put the shutter sound on mute and be prepared for dust and rain. Also, check the camera permit and what kind of lenses are allowed inside beforehand. Avoid wearing perfumes as animals pick up on the scents. Avoid wearing bright colours; khaki, brown, or olive green are ideal for camouflage. Wear sunscreen, use mosquito-repellent patches or creams, and carry an antiseptic cream, band-aids, emergency medicines, and water. Don’t litter, carry a bag to throw garbage. Don’t smoke or light fire inside the park. Alcohol is prohibited inside. Carry hats/scarves to cover your head.

Opt for an open jeep instead of a bus or a canter. The smaller the group size, the better. Tiger safaris are 60 per cent about your driver/guide’s knowledge of the forest, animal movements, and network, and 40 per cent your luck. The ride will be a bumpy one, ensure nothing falls out of the car (including you!). Don’t get off the vehicle for any reason (use the washroom before entering the park). Avoid indulging in a heavy meal right before the ride…you don’t want to doze off or throw up in front of a tiger! Avoid garrulous groups susceptible of breaking into an antakshari in the middle of the safari.  

But most importantly, remember that forests don’t respond well to human greed. Don’t go with the agenda to just spot tigers. If you love the forest, it will reveal its treasures to you.