The last time that we went to Kanha National Park in February this year, we did not see a tiger on our first trip into the jungle. You would think, what’s the big deal? You don’t see a tiger just like that. Many tourists spend a whole week going in both mornings and evenings, straining their eyes till they go practically blind, and they draw a complete blank as far as the tiger is concerned. Some tourists are even known to give the baigas (the tribals who live in the area and are legendary as far as their jungle knowledge and the supposed camaraderie with the denizens of the jungle is concerned) some money to pay for the prayers they will then conduct so that the tiger gives them darshan.
But it has been different for us all this while. The first time we enter the jungle, within the hour the tiger will come out and will stay with us for some time before darting back into thick cover. There is some affinity here either of the tiger for us or vice versa or both. Or may be we have been just plain lucky. There is another pattern too. The last trip we take into the jungle, we again see the tiger though this time it may just give a glimpse before disappearing. This has gone on too long – more than a decade – and so when we did not see the tiger in our first trip this time, we felt something had gone wrong. The spell was broken.
Or was there something more to it than just plain luck?
We enter the jungle in the evening of the last day we are spending out here. Ram Kumar is worried. He is fretful and he is actually downright pissed.
“It never happens,” he mutters. “There never has been a single day that I have not seen a tiger.” He is not boasting. Ram Kumar has this extra perception, this sense that very few drivers or guides have to be there at the right time. He knows. He instinctively knows where to be. But this time our collective luck too has failed.
“It’s the guide,” he complains. We know that there is some truth in what he is saying. The guide we have is one of the most knowledgeable guides you can have – Murari Patel. He knows a lot about the jungle and we have had very good time with him before in the jungle. He was the one who took us to an area where we for the first time saw wild dogs hunting a wild boar. He was the one who showed us the hard ground barasinghas at extremely close quarters. He knows more about the fauna and flora of this jungle and its terrain than most other guides. But there is no love lost between him and Ram Kumar. The chemistry they have between them is botched. Ram Kumar may be right – when the driver and the guide don’t match like the stone and the ring, all may be lost.
We move first to Nakti Ghati. Nothing. We move over to Umar Pani. Nothing. But ram Kumar is certain that a tiger is here. We spend time roaming around. Nothing. Then there is a sound – tiger is calling. We stop dead in our tracks. We spend several moments here. Nothing. The sound has vanished and not even a leaf is moving. No alarm call either. We start rolling again. We stop at a crossroad and there is a debate between the guide and the driver. I normally keep my own counsel when this happens. For the first time I break this golden rule – I tell Ram Kumar to take the direction he wants to. We head towards the Kanha meadow.
And then it happens.
There is a sudden roar from up ahead. We move faster. When we arrive there, there are a few jeeps already there, waiting. We too stop. For the next few moments nothing happens. Then a large male tiger appears some distance to our right and deep inside the meadow. He is walking in our direction, crossing the meadow. On our left is an area that tried to be hill but lost badly in the attempt. So, it is just plain ground with a slight rise in the middle. On the other side of this rise are two deer, one of them a stag, grazing. They have not seen the tiger. The tiger is still maintaining its course and is heading towards the deer. Perhaps it knows they are there from the smell. Midways the tiger sees a hare and before the poor thing understands anything, he gives it a chase. The hare saves itself, but only just. The tiger clears the rise and it is only now that the deer see it. They make a dash for cover. But the tiger ignores them. It now crosses the road where we are standing. It goes on to the other side and then keeps going.
“It was almost like an afterthought on the part of the tiger,” I tell Kakoli as we are being driven back to the gate. “As if in the last moment it decided that it should give us a darshan after all.”
“It had to be this way this time,” is what Kakoli says.
“Huh?” I say not comprehending at all.
“Ashish,” she says quietly and in a flash things come to me and I am saddened beyond words.
Ashish, the man who lived his life every single moment. The man who laughed almost under any circumstances. The practical joker par excellence (those of you who want to know what this is about can go back and read my previous blog entry ‘COW DUNG PRINCE HENRY’ to get a whiff of what I mean. The link is:
http://avinashjee.sulekha.com/blog/post/2008/03/cow-dung-prince-henry.htm).
We spent 30 years together first as friends and then as colleagues and then he went on to become the Principal of the college where I serve. But he couldn’t restrict himself to the Principal’s cabin. He was essentially an outdoors person. Practically, a denizen of the jungle, having his home in Melghat forest area, he would put up a table outside in the lawn and take up all administration from there. The whole office then hovered around the lawn.
He loved jungles like I do and in a manner that I cannot probably even begin to understand. But he was not your Maneka Gandhi type conservationist. He hunted when the urge was upon him. Sometimes deer meat was available in his house. I have even eaten blackbuck meat at his residence. I must confess I initially balked at the prospect but later ate thinking that it is no more blackbuck – it is already dead and has become food. But Ashish understood jungle and loved the environ. Hunting was once in a blue moon. Most of the time he just relaxed and imbibed the scenario.
He knew how much I loved the jungle. Getting a leave for going to the jungle was therefore no sweat. I would go with an application and he would raise an eyebrow and ask, “Again? Kanha?”
He knew the date I was going from the application. And he would make it his business to call me to his office just the day before I was to leave.
“May you not see a single tiger!” was how he wished me luck. “Kuch nahin dikhne wala. Sambar, deer, kutta, yehi sab dikhega. Bas.” (Nothing is going to be visible. Just a few Sambar, deer and dogs are what you are going to see.)
I only gave a smile in return. There was hardly any need to protest. The guy was one of the most mischievous persons I have met but his mischief was always good natured. And a better well wisher I am not going to find.
The matters did not end here. Half way through to whichever jungle we were going, the mobile would ring and I would simply give the phone to Kakoli telling her that it must be Ashish and to talk to him.
“May you not see a single tiger!” was what he screamed into the phone bringing a smile to Kakoli’s lips. “Thank you,” would be her reply.
“No, really, you are not going to see a single thing; not even a Sambar. The old man you are taking with you is bad luck. He will spoil your vacation. It’s time you had a rethink – next time you go to the jungle, think about going with me. Dump the old man.”
“We will think when there is the next time,” was all Kakoli would say.
“Give the phone to the old man.”
“Hi, Ashish. I am resigned to the fact that I am not going to see anything. Just some trees would be all,” I would say.
“You better be. And, may you not see a single tiger!”
And we kept on seeing tigers everytime we went and even when others were drawing a blank.
Except this time.
We did not have the typical ‘left handed’ good wishes from Ashish this time. May be the tigers knew that. May be the jungle felt his absence.
Whatever, but we know that everytime we will go the jungle now, we will miss that wish. There is nobody now who can tell me, “May you not see a single tiger” with the same mischievous glint in his eye.
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Avinash,
No tribute can be enough for men like him. As you say, they die young - God has a different story for people like him.
Apurba
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Apurba,
Thanks for the comments.
Ashish died on the 23rd of January and he was just 48 (my age). It took me three months before I thought I would be able to write a tribute to him.
Avinash
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Katokatha,
Thanks for your comments. And thanks for your kind words. I hope I can write consistently in the same manner.
Avinash
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Poet,
As always tongue in cheek.
He was my friend and his death jolted me severely. After 3 months I thought I should write a tribute to him.
Avinash
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Hi BS,
Thanks for your comments. People like Ashish are indeed rare because they have their own way of doing things and this is at variance with the extablished ways. But such people most of the time die young and that is what happened to Ashish too.
Avinash
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Aditi, thanks.
Your impression that this was not about tiger sighting at all was indeed absolutely correct. It was meant as a tribute to a friend who died so early. Thanks for your kind words. My hope of writing better each day is encouraged by you.
Avinash
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Thanks Srinath. It is so very painful that words come back with all force upon the death of a dear one.
Avinash
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Avinash,
When I read the title, I thought - 'Oh! The tiger again'. But this had less to do with the tiger, more with the complexities of simple relationships.
I loved the way you brought the story to life through a character that is stupendous. You are missing him, so am I - where is he now?
Apurba
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