Ranthambore, Day 1

After the 15th of April, all the Cassia fistula trees along the streets of Chennai were barren, shorn of their flowers. Bouquets of the konna, among other things, are supposed to be an auspicious sight on the morning of Vishu, the harvest festival of the Malayali and had therefore been taken down from the trees to be a part of the Vishukani display.

The road to the gates of the Ranthambhore National Park however showed no evidence of Malayalis having gone that way – the few konna trees on that road were in full bloom, their vivid yellow flowers a sharp contrast to the heat-washed early morning. Maybe they were auspicious, too, for almost as soon as we cleared the gate bureaucracy, we had to stop. Dr. Jayamurthy’s keen eyes had seen a movement on the stone cliffs of the Vindhyas – and there we saw what Dr.Jayamurthy had spotted, a sight possibly rarer than seeing a tiger – a leopard, ambling over the rocks. He then lay down for a while, letting all of us take a good look at him, before going deeper inside the ledge and away from our sights.

Bumping along the forest roads, we pulled to a halt on the shores of the Padam Tal, as did several other Canters and Gypsies. A tiger had been sighted there yesterday, said the guide. A herd of chital on the far shore looked at us and then stiffened, sensing a greater threat and then broke into a run. False alarm. It was only a big sambhar stag, coming down for a drink. A Gypsy came rushing up to the group of vehicles. The message was crisp: at Lakharda, near Mandu Point, a pair of tigers had dragged a kill across the road from a waterhole. The race was on. Canters galloped, Gypsies careened, as every vehicle tried to be the first on the scene, to grab the best spot for watching the tigers. But even before we reached there, four or five other vehicles had cornered the vantage points. Not that we were complaining. We had a wonderful view, as the male tiger – a large 5-6 year old – got up, crossed the road up ahead of us and walked towards us, stopping at the waterhole, where he slaked his thirst. Strolling back, he went about 25 feet away from the road and lay down, sated, needing some peace and quiet, now. The tigress was still feeding at the kill, but soon, she needed water as well and so cut across the road to the waterhole. Maybe the male felt protective, for he too got up and circled the vehicles, getting to the waterhole. He saw that the tigress wasn’t too worried about the crowd of onlookers – there were close to a hundred people, standing up on the seats of their vehicles, trying to get pictures the best they could – and had settled herself quite comfortably into the small waterhole, so he wandered back to the other side of the road. The tigress continued to lie in the water, soaking herself for a while, allowing everyone to take a good look at her. When she had enough of it, she got up, intending to walk back to her kill the way she had cut across the road. But by now there was a double line of vehicles blocking that path, so she had to go around, behind the last vehicle. That Gypsy suddenly gunned its engines and reversed, keeping abreast of the tigress – thankfully, it was only for a few seconds and the big girl was allowed to get across before she could build up her anger. We had been there for almost an hour, though it seemed but a few minutes, and the drive back was quick, for we had been lucky, to have seen two tigers on our first safari.

Our enthusiasm at breakfast was rather subdued; the smaller group of 11 had been lucky, the bigger group of 16 hadn’t. And so, before the afternoon safari, they were given detailed instructions: Zone 3. Mandu Point, where the road curves. Watch for a waterhole in the crook. Hoping the pair would still be digesting their morning meal, and hoping that would give the bigger group a good sighting, we went off into Zone 4. We zigged and we zagged. Herds of sambhar and chital were seen, so were nilgai, too, though less frequently. Peafowl wandered about everywhere, the males trailing their tails with practiced unconcern. Troops of Hanuman langur pretended to be unaware of the approaching vehicle, leaping away at the last moment and then muttering harsh words to us. We waited a while at an artificial waterhole, watching the communal drinking – circling around the water were sambhar, peafowl, red-vented bulbul, a flameback, some chital – all making for a nice, peaceful scene. We moved on, leaving the wildlife to quench their thirst without any spectators and Ramanan asked the guide about going to Bakola. “Not possible”, said the guide, “the forest department has chained the way shut. But we will still go on that road, as far as we can”. The road ran to the right of a low cliff, about 12 feet high and sloping down to meet the road just where the chain across two trees stopped us from heading any further. As if to taunt us, a jackal looked at us and loped away, heading into the forbidden forest, as if daring us to come after it. Not falling for that trick, we turned around to head back to the exit. And then, there he was. He looked Vidya right in the eye, and as she called out, the Canter stopped and backed up in a hurry, bringing us all right beside him. He had come down the cliff, probably just after we had passed, hoping to get across to the other side for some food and was now stuck by our return. He was confused, irritated, scared and bewildered at this interruption and seemed thankful when the engine was switched off. Crossing the path in front of our vehicle, he looked out to the flatland, wondering how he could bring down one of those sambhar for a meal. We waited a while, hoping he would show us the answer he worked out, but the little fellow – he was only a year-and-a-half old – did not seem to be that hungry. We drove back to find that the bigger group hadn’t been lucky at all; their guide refused to believe that they knew about a morning kill that he was ignorant about and being at his mercy as to the possible locations of a tiger, the group had spent the afternoon unsuccessfully searching at different locations. They had made up for the lack of tiger sighting with a large list – Dr. Shyamala had spotted over 60 species – of birds and the amazing spectacle of a mugger capturing a large fish in the lake.