Discovery- Wild walkers near Ooty

Tucked away in the folds of the Ooty mountains, a small cottage lies in the middle of a plot of farm land. The approach road to the cottage itself isn't in best shape, and it is necessary to leave your car half way and use a jeep to cross the final stretch of road. One needs to turn off the Mudumalai-Ooty road, drive across the hill slopes, past a few villages until one essentially reaches the end of the road - thats where you park, and meet caretaker Nanjun, who will take you to the cottage itself. One needs to first walk a little stretch and then climb into a jeep for a rough ride to the cottage.

After driving through Bandipur and Mudumalai, the road to Wild Walkers starts to make you wonder whether there has been some mistake in selecting the destination. There are several villages along the way, each with concrete houses more colourful and kitschy than the other. Yes, the mountain air is delicious, but you do wonder if the cottage is going to give you the privacy, peace and isolation that you have been expecting. The walk from your car to the jeep takes you by surprise, because one is not normally packed in a manner to quickly pick up bags and begin a mini hike. Even my shoes were still packed away, so I had to lug my baggage across in slippers, along with the little bags of food and other utilities we had picked up along the way. Once you reach the jeep, things start looking up, for you drive through a small tea plantation interspersed with scrub jungle, and finally you can see the trees parting ahead , which is where Wild Walkers cottage is located. The immediate area around Wild Walkers is an extension of the reserve forest, and gaurs, elephants and even bears have been spotted here rather frequently. This means that access to the cottage normally requires the caretaker to escort you, and you cannot really head out on foot on your own.

The cottage itself is a 3 bed room cottage, with each room having a separate access of its own. The common areas are all open to nature, so whether you are sitting at the dining table for a meal, or getting warm next to the fireplace, you are always exposed to the outdoors. The cottage is powered by solar power, so you can only keep 2 bulbs on at a time, and charging points for phones, cameras, tablets and every other gadget you are carrying with you need to be used sparingly. Phone are a little redundant, for there isn't enough cell phone network coverage. I would recommend putting your phone off or into flight mode, so that you can still use it to take pictures, but not drain the battery looking for network continuously.

The food is vegetarian and local, but delicious and fresh. The flavours were comforting, and there was an unlimited flow of food, tea and evening pakodas the whole time we were there. Not having electricity also means there is no water heater, so you need to tell Nanjun when you'd like to get a bucket of hot water delivered to your room.

The cottage doesn't really give you much to do either - with limited electricity, lack of network, no facility for games or music, one can be rather bored spending too much time here. But then again, this was exactly what I was looking for. All the things that I have mentioned so far may be slightly putting off for most travellers - which is why I have spoken of all this up front. If you are still reading this article, then this is when you begin to discover all the reasons why I loved this destination.

To begin with, the cottage is done up and maintained beautifully. Each room is spacious, with a view of the outdoors; bathrooms are modern and well maintained; beds are comfortable and the room is filled with curios, antique pieces and little details that reflect the taste and the attention to detail that has gone into putting the place together. Not having electricity was no trouble at all - in fact we barely even used the lights that we could, and spent our evenings by candlelight. The solar lights were used sparingly, only to use the bathroom or while we ate - and we didn't really need it beyond that. The views from the cottage are spectacular - on one side you have high mountains, in front you can see smaller hill slopes covers with jungle patches, and beyond is the valley that has the Mudumalai wildlife sanctuary. Considering the amount of land we could see from where we were perched, it was delightful to also notice that in all these spaces, we could see no signs of other habitation, no other human being, no electric pole, not even a single light bulb or torch!

We could spend days hanging out on the verandahs, gazing at the view, looking at the clouds roll in and out, and watch Nanjun maintain the farm and keep the birds away from his crop. But that isn't all that we did, within an hour of reaching the cottage, we went for a little walk with Nanjun, to a lake and then to a view point, where the view only got better compared to what we could see from the cottage. Along the way we saw some gaurs on the slopes nearby, and even crossed some bear scat, which told us that the bear sightings in the region was indeed true. The next day we went for a beautiful hike up the mountain and spent some time at the peak, soaking in the air, gazing at the view, jumping in the rain and taking innumerable pictures. Words do not do justice to the place, its location, and the experience of doing those hikes in complete isolation, tucked away from the maddening traffic, crowd and construction that is Ooty.

For wildlife lovers and birders, Wild Walkers will surprise you. A pair of resident black eagles make regular rounds of the cottage, and you can watch it soar and circle and hunt and perch. Gaurs and barking deer are a regular feature from the cottage itself, it feels like you belong to the landscape for they graze and walk around without being affected by your presence. We were also lucky to have a bear digging around for termites very close to the property, and even spotted a wild cat (leopard cat) in broad daylight while we were enjoying a cup of tea. Once you realise the potential there is for a sighting right from the cottage itself, you spend the whole time keeping watch with a pair of handy binoculars.

If you are a nature lover and would give all that you've got for a few days in solitude, away from the rush and bustle of the city, then Wild Walkers is the place for you. I do not exaggerate when I say that it is remote and cut off, and that there really isn't much to do other than to enjoy the outdoors, but if this excites you, be sure to plan a trip and do not forget to take your binoculars along.

Lawlessness in the concrete jungle

Life in the jungle would be exciting, adventurous, dangerous, relaxing - but mostly fair. Survival of the fittest it may be, but the laws of the jungle prevail. A wild cat wouldn't hunt just for fun, neither would an animal attack unless provoked. One may imagine that it is a dangerous, scary world out there, but experience, caution and respect goes a long way in nature.

On the other hand, life in the city is chaotic and unfair. The rude and oppressive thrive, while the gentle, fair and respectful are trodden upon. A decent upbringing has no value any more, it has become "in" to be abusive, violent and disrespectful.

A recent addition to my home, Sultan a 6 month old rough collie, was left in the custody of my parents for a couple of weeks since I was on a visit to Germany. Being a young and energetic puppy, he needs his share of exercise and my father religiously took him out for a walk twice a day. One evening he walked past a group of young boys playing cricket, and they showed some interest in the dog, asking what he was called. My father spoke jovially, and announced his name as that of a king's - "SULTAN". As my father walked away, the cricket ball hit him on his back, an incident which my father preferred to believe was an accident. The next day, as he was walking by, the same group of children decided to further their game by throwing stones at my father and dog! On confrontation, there were lies, denial, and laughter, not a sign of remorse at having thrown stones at an elderly man, a fellow human being, and a young puppy.

Here's another story - a close friend of mine was visiting my family while I was holidaying in Pune. At the end of her stay, I was dropping her off to her parents house, take a route through a quiet residential layout (Model colony). My days of racing and speed are past me, and I prefer a steady pace while navigating through the city. I was at an intersection, and making my way around a circle, when a two wheeler overtook me at top speed. It was a young woman, all covered up in her bandit-like mask, with her mother sitting behind her, seated sideways with both her legs on the same side of the seat. She was abreast with the car on the right, when she realized that I was going around the circle and she wanted to turn off to the left. I stopped immediately, giving her space to cross over, but she lost her balance and tumbled onto the ground with her mother.

I stopped the car immediately, pulled the window down as I was unbuckling my seat belt to step out and help them. However, they both were up on their feet within a couple of seconds, and the young lady strode up to the car, screaming at me at the top of her voice, implying that it was my fault. Her mask remained on her face, and the only thing we could make out from her was the string of abuses she kept hurling at us.
Even though I didn't think I was at fault, I realized she must be in shock and wasn't interested in a confrontation. I remained calm, and even apologized when she insisted that I was in the wrong. As soon as she sensed that I wasn't being aggressive in the situation, she flung her arm into the car window and whacked my head, right across my forehead, eye and cheekbone. I blanked out for 10-15 seconds, I couldn't see a thing except darkness in every direction, and could only hear loud and oppressive voices all around my head. My friend was now defending me, but her concern for me prevented her from stepping out of the vehicle and continuing the fight.

When I could finally open my eyes, I was aware of the mother looking at me with concern and embarrassment, pulling her daughter away so they could flee the scene. My instant reaction was to leave the unpleasant situation as soon as possible, and I didn't gather my wits quick enough to hold her responsible for her behaviour. I should have taken her to the police for physical assault.

I drove about a hundred metres and was overcome with rage, anger at doing nothing and allowing this to happen to me. That moment, I am not sure I would have the sanity to control my actions, had she still been present in front of me. This is the kind of irresponsible behaviour that triggers violence and road rage.

My only take-away from these incidents is to stop being decent on the streets, or you'll only get punished for it. Don't make conversation, don't smile at people, even children, and worst of all, never stop to help somebody who has had a fall. My next purchase is a pepper spray, and the next time I am in an accident, even if it is my fault, I am going to drive away and never bother to help. I apologize now, to the few decent people out there, who may suffer my inconsideration in the future, I've learnt the hard way and maybe they need to do the same too.

Sometimes it feels like a better life to risk being hunted down by a pack of wild dogs, than try and put up with this farce of civilization and society.

Back in the country

It has been a long since I even tried writing a new post for this blog. Living in Germany and lack of contact with my favourite landscapes left me blank in the head, and I couldn't think of a good topic to write about.

I haven't really made many trips to the wild after my return. I was first trying to get back into a normal routine of work and setting up home. That was barely in place, when I was shuttling between Bangalore and Pune, preparing for a Bharatnatyam stage event Smarati Mano Mamah, in memory of my classical dance teacher. The event was a grand success, and the charity Prerana received a considerable sum of Rs 10 lakh (100,000) as donation as a result of the event.

Post the event I slowly was able to make little visits to the most exciting places in the world, and I also treated myself to a visit to Ranthambore in Rajasthan, which I loved. Yes it was a tourist hub, with jeeps bumping into each other and honking in the presence of a tiger, just so all the guests in every jeep would catch a glimpse of the royal animal. However, I loved the landscape, I loved the blend of jungle with historic ruins - the whole feeling of being in that jungle was simply magical. A stop over on the way back in Jaipur only added to the fun, and I returned to Bangalore with a suitcase full of fabulous stuff that I bought in Jaipur.

Keeping a blog active about the forest isn't easy - not that that there aren't things to write about. Perhaps there are too many thoughts, that it gets difficult to find the right flow and bring it all together. In the meantime, though, I read a beautiful story written by Leela Broome (Mrs B) - "Flute in the Forest". The story took me back to why I got addicted to nature and wildlife in the first place. Mrs B's Nature Trails, held in their farm in Pune, was a magical camp exposing kids to the right attitude to nature. After attending two of her camps as a 12-year-old, the campus of NCL colony transformed from a big playground with plenty of space to run around, to a fantastic ecosystem with with all kinds of birds, insects and snakes around. If only one would take the time to notice.

I learnt to recognise a few snakes (the common venomous ones and a few others that one could see easily) and most birds that I'd see around our home. Holidays and weekends meant an early morning game of basketball, followed by a few hours of sitting around the front porch or backyard, bird book in hand, observing all the birds of the area go about their day. The Drongo chicks on the Neem tree learnt to fly as I was watching them. The Babul tree outside the front gate had several nests of plum headed parakeets, and they'd keep flying back to the tree to feed their chicks, screeching away to announce their presence. A silly Bulbul decided to nest and lay its eggs precariously on the top of a cupboard door, those eggs were doomed, and hopefully the Bulbul learnt a lesson after that. The rat snake from the trench nearby was a regular visitor to the house, knocking on the glass panes of the front door, in case the door wasn't open. I spent an entire afternoon watching a game of hide and seek between the rat snake and a bunch of squirrels on the Neem tree right outside the kitchen window.

I noticed how the Purple Sunbird changed its plumage through the year, and when the heads of the Cattle Egret changed colour. Golden Orioles frequented the Jamun tree, and I got a nice picture from my point-and-shoot camera one day, when I woke up and found the Golden Oriole right outside the bedroom window. Locating the Coppersmith from its call was always confusing, since it first seems to be coming from all directions - but I picked up the skill quickly enough and could easily find the bird high up in the branches of the Gulmohar tree. I loved silk cotton season - cotton flew all over the place every time there was a breeze, this was the closest we had to snowfall, so we'd run to stand under the cotton tree as the wind blew. The Spotted Owlets were permanently perched on a tree at the far end of the garden. They would get a bit jittery when there was a lot of human movement, but I often crept up to about 20 meters away, walking very slowly, and then would squat on the ground facing them. Once I had settled down, they'd be there forever, both pairs of eyes carefully watching to see if I was planning to move anytime soon.

Once in a while, we spent the weekend trekking in the hills around the city. I'd be really upset if there was a trek I couldn't participate in, and would wait anxiously for the trekkers to return. I'd be eager to know what they had seen, and was most excited to find out that they had spotted a Shieldtail, or Vultures around a buffalo carcass. On hearing this, I was often disappointed that I missed out on a special sighting.

The fast paced, high pressure trend of modern wildlife tourism has diluted the real joy of being in nature. You could meet hundreds of regular wildlife tourists today, and by regular I mean at least 4 trips to a jungle every year, and still not find a single person who could identify a serpent eagle. In most probability, 50% of these tourists would carelessly toss a plastic bag into the forest, once they are done with the chips inside it. Perhaps 70% of these would feed the monkeys on the roadside. All smokers would light up their cigarette while in the forest, in spite of the highly publicised news articles about raging forest fires all over South India.

Conversations at the end of a safari are predictable. In fact, one could create a little questionnaire for wildlife tourists and save the trouble of introductions:
1. What did you see in the safari?
a) Tiger
b) Nothing (terrible luck)

(Answer this question only if the answer to 1 was a)
2. How many?
a) One (normal luck)
b) Two-Four (good luck)
c) More than four (excellent luck)

Today's well educated, high salaried, SLR wielding wildlife tourist has encouraged very irresponsible tourism all over the country. This results in naturalists who think avian species are a waste of time, drivers who honk and shout in the middle of the forest, forest guards who'd accept a couple of green notes in return for a drive through the jungle in the night and resort operators who'd like to convert the waterhole into a boating attraction.

I got rid of my SLR and picked up a little pocket camera, for I had no wish to be associated any longer with the wildlife photographer that seems to infest every pocket of forest space. I make a trip to the forest with a bird book in one hand and my lovely German binoculars in the other. Every visit leaves me content thanks to the crystal clear sighting I've had of a Flameback making its way up a tree trunk, or a Sambhar cautiously approaching a waterhole, taking every precaution to make sure there was no predator waiting to pounce on it. Every movement, every behaviour pattern leaves me filled with the ways of the jungle, and I consider myself lucky that I have learnt how to observe and enjoy this.

Country for sale

I spent a relaxing month with my mother here in Germany, we travelled a little, did some sightseeing, but most enjoyable times were spent taking walks in the countryside. The countryside I talk about isn't particularly made up of stunning landscapes, or snow clad peaks – this is good old plain countryside – farmlands and meadows, with little streams flowing in between. There are patches of scrub and forest land that belongs to nobody, where one comes across an occasional cottage with a modest façade and an apple tree in the backyard. Fruits on the trees are available for all to eat, and nobody will complain if you pick a few raspberries from the bushes along the path. The streams and rivers are clean, and ducks paddle up and down. Now and then one sees families riding bicycles, or dogs playing fetch bounding across a field – simple pleasures that suddenly seem like impossible luxuries.

Forests and meadows

Like I have mentioned before, I grew up in NCL colony, in a beautiful big house with the slopes of the hill behind blending naturally into our backyard. We couldn’t see the neighbour’s house – as the foliage in between was too dense! Family outings were on bicycles, cycling down to NDA or towards Balewadi – the sports stadium that was built for the 1994 National games, located on the Pune bypass. Even beyond, was Nature Trails camp, run by Leela and Ashok Broome – this is the place I went to for my first ever nature camp, its a farm that was considered to be located far outside the city. The closest village from this farm that had more than 10 homes was called Hinjewadi, and we had to remember the name so we could ask for the way in case we were lost on our bicycle route. There were many ways to get there, but one of the easier routes was to go down Pashan-Sus road, hit the highway, go past Balewadi, and turn at Wakad. Then on, it was a single lane road, and it was nicer to pedal on the side of the road on the mud track than in the middle which was semi laid and very bumpy. The whole route was pure and simple countryside, with very little plastic strewn around, where birds of all colours and sizes could be seen on trees and electric lines along the road, where we could feel lucky to see a snake wriggling across the road. In the monsoon, these places would be covered with little waterfalls, and the electric green could make spirits soar.

The good old days

The countryside in Germany reminds me often of those days, where the outdoors was simple, open for all to enjoy, and belonged to nobody.

My parents home is now in an apartment complex on the same Pashan-Sus road. This was one of the first apartment complexes to come there, and now the road is bustling with cars, apartments, banks, supermarkets – you name it! 

A couple of years ago I caught a watchman killing a snake in the apartment, unfortunately it was already too late, as the snake had very little life left in it by then. In response to my outrage and fury, he explained that there were children in the area and it was unsafe to have a snake around. One look at the snake told me it was a wolf snake – completely harmless, and possibly the last one left in the area thanks to the ruthless development that has taken place. Not many years ago, the number of snakes on this road would have far outnumbered the humans.

A wolf snake in happier times

The roads we once went cycling on, now lead to an enormous IT park – Hinjewadi is well known in Pune, with its wide roads, well lit software complexes, high end security and endless facility. The roads are famous for accidents and carjacking incidents. Today, cycling on these roads would probably equal suicide. Every other road around Pune suffers a similar fate. The open fields, patches of scrub jungle and beautiful hill slopes are now replaced by buildings and exposed rock where great excavations are in progress, to make it more suitable for a cutting edge software park or luxury apartment complex. There remains no place where one could take a peaceful walk, taking in the countryside, without worrying about trespassing on private property. Everything is now private property, all the countryside we grew up in now suddenly belongs to somebody. Who sold this land? Who ever owned it – there never were fences in these places! The whole landscape seems to be getting divided into neat little plots, and you need to buy it to enjoy it! Those who have the money to buy it, immediately surround themselves with a high wall, a watchman, flatten the ground out and build themselves a garish house where they can enjoy every urban luxury without having to step out of the door. Of course – this is only a weekend getaway, and the place remains locked up all week long. 

Wonderful countrysides of once-upon-a-time

I like to believe that the wonderful nature that we are blessed to have in our country is tough to equal. It is frustratingly difficult to understand how our educated middle class can throw all this away in their race for affluence. Where is the country that I belong to, where I can feel free to roam and breathe in the fresh air? Where did it disappear?

A little bit of luck

Every regular wildlife watcher is superstitious - whether he admits it or not. Every safari starts with a quick check of all the clothing and accessories that should or should not be present - to try and find some guarantee of a rare experience. A rare experience is, well, rare - and to find it you do need to have a little bit of luck!

An old favourite movie of mine, has this little song sequence, which more or less summarizes the dozens of tourists as they step into their jeeps heading for a safari each day...

Lucky beginnings are always rare - my very first encounter with a full fledged jungle was years ago in Mudhumalai. This trip turned out to be stupendously lucky - two leopard sightings, wild dogs, even a jungle cat! This was most certainly beginners luck - because very many trips followed without even a whisker of a wild cat in sight.

Well I am glad to say, the fast is over - but I have burnt my fingers, and wouldn't take luck for granted. I try a few small tricks to help things go my way, that includes keeping my sunglasses on the top of my head, wearing or not wearing my watch, wearing my favourite Taurus pendant or not (the one I spoke about a few posts ago). There is nothing to prove that any of this works, but like I said - all wildlife watchers are certainly superstitious.

While writing this post, I think very specifically of people I know, who are terribly confident of their luck, and are just a few steps away from trying to make some money off it! Some of them are cocky and arrogant, and go so far to think that they part-own the forest (I have heard one of them famously pointing out to a bunch of green proclaiming it to be "mah forest, mah forest").

Others cant believe that they could have a bad day, and will take any measure to get rid of the unlucky charm. I have heard a story of a guide, who was really exasperated that he couldn't show his group of guests a tiger. Finally, he got rid of one "unlucky" member of the group, by pushing him on to the back of an elephant promising him an unforgettable experience. Unforgettable indeed, because the rest of the group watched a tiger for twenty minutes from the comfort of their jeep - while the poor man was scanning the horizon from his awkward mount, wondering when the ordeal would come to an end.

And then there are those, who pretend not to even acknowledge the luck they have - "Luck has nothing to do with it", they say, while they strut around with the luck of the devil with them. These are the crafty little ones, putting money* where their mouths are, and there are a million eager newbies, waiting to take part in the lucky moments with them at any cost (*thats the money I was talking about).

The good thing about having such characters around, is that a wildlife experience can rarely get boring. A serious wildlife watcher would say that the jungle can never get boring. There always are the birds and butterflies and tiny little insects all over the place, a little bit of observation would be all that is needed to have the rare and lucky wildlife moment. I have to agree - although these little human quirks can always add some laughter into the wonderful jungle memories.

A Few Good Men

It has been almost six months of being in Germany, and the call of the Indian jungle gets stronger as time passes by. One way to feel in touch is to read the books by the great men of the Indian forests. Last year I read through the collection by Kenneth Anderson, and now it’s the Jim Corbett Omnibus that keeps me occupied.

I know I read Jim Corbett’s books as a child – but I do not remember whether I enjoyed the books or not. I remember reading several books by Enid Blyton, James Herriot and the likes over and over but I have no recollection whatsoever of being addicted to Corbett’s books. I think I always omitted the part where a hunt actually happened, and only possibly read the parts in between where one can get a feel of the jungle. I managed to get a set of the books recently, and decided to read them again, to see what I think of them now.

Kenneth Anderson was a hunter turned conservationist, and in every book he regrets his years when he hunted for sport. He was especially careful never to shoot a wild cat, unless he was sure it was the man-eater he was looking for. By the end of each story, one can only feel sorry for the man-eater, which was forced to get into its man-killing habit thanks to some or the other human interference – be it a trap laid for the tiger or a badly aimed bullet from a pseudo -macho hunter. I enjoyed the books, and to a large extent agreed with Anderson’s thoughts and opinions – I disliked his son, Donald, who continued to hunt for sport and never seemed to come around.

I was hoping for a similar experience while reading Corbett, but found to my discomfort that Corbett was quite the sportsman, as he himself calls it, right through the days that he hunted man-eaters. I still haven’t reached the end of the collection, but his cold blooded narrative of each kill, several times quite unnecessary, leaves me squirming that our country could have its largest national park named after him! An encounter with a bear, which he chased and hacked to death using an axe, particularly sends shivers down my spine. I find myself blaming him to a large extent for the depleting tiger population we have in our country today.

All the “great” hunters always talk about the local people of the forest – every story has an incident about a villager and his incredible human spirit. A few visits to the jungle have also given me a chance to come across some such personalities – although in a more modern setup. Every jungle always has the veteran guide who has been around for years, and has experiences with every possible kind of animal behaviour. Of course, there are the few of them, who pride themselves on the fact that there couldn’t be a single jungle moment that wouldn’t miss their keen eyes. These are the entertainers, the PR representatives of the jungle – they take each day as it comes, and each tourist at face value, and are happy and easy going as long as you don’t hurt their pride. There is also the hardworking, earnest naturalist, always waiting to know more than he already does, who can rattle off the sub-species of every mammal, reptile of bird that comes his way. The simpleton, who typically works in the background like in the kitchen, who smiles easily every time you take notice of him, because he isn’t used to being spoken to, as most tourist these days are much too occupied with themselves to even acknowledge the fact that another person is serving them all the while. And then there are the men whose expressions are full of character, hardened with difficult stories, be it being mauled by a wild animal or due to severe financial hardships, who just do their jobs as well as they can so that they can and go to bed each night with a clean conscience.  There is of course the rogue in every place – the slacker, the pervert, the person who will do anything to make a quick buck, with no qualms whatsoever.

The truth is, the jungle experience hasn’t changed that much from the times of Kenneth Anderson and Jim Corbett as far as the people in the jungle go – modern settings and tourist setups may give a place a different face, but the people always remain the same. The same goes for the corrupt officials, and the so-called honest forester – who has a clean and savvy look to him, and manages to get good reputation amongst the educated middle class, although his intentions or actions are either down-right criminal, or simply negligent. The few good men, who struggle through their lives to consistently do their best for nature and wildlife are mostly taken for granted, or even called crazy. It seems that it is only with the right mix of bad blood that one can ever be successful!

The only thing that has changed, to a large extent, is the frequency with which one could see the majestic inhabitants of the jungle. Jim Corbett came across a new tiger every day – Kenneth Anderson needed about a  week to come across a tiger, and today we sometimes need years before we first see our first wild tiger! How can it be, that the jungle has changed so much, and yet our people and attitudes remain exactly the same! Many years ago, the most successful hunter of the North earned the right to have a National Park named after him – and today, each corrupt, scheming forester, with houses built of teak wood and marble, earns his promotions with equal ease. I would think it is time to introspect about who really is the rare good man.

My circle of friends

I lost my favourite pendant a few weeks ago when I returned home from an evening swim and realized I had dropped it somewhere along the way. It was a cold day, and snow was expected, and I unwillingly acknowledged that it was the time to let go. I knew it was nothing but an inanimate object, and I wondered why I felt so attached to it – in many ways I felt it defined me. It was colourful and transparent, and shaped like a bull, which of course relates to my naturally affa’bull’ Taurian character!

I don’t know about lifeless possessions, but I believe that like pets, wild animals connect to us too, and I have a few stories about this to narrate myself. The wonderful home we had when we were children was in the beautifully overgrown NCL colony, with the hill at the back and numerous visitors (more or less of the human kind) up in the front. A couple of creatures visited us too from time to time, and one regular visitor was this 6-foot long rat snake. It was a regular sight to watch it slither in from one door and out from the other. If the doors were closed, it would occasionally stand up to its full length against the window and knock on the glass pane. To the irritation of the squirrels who originally claimed the space, it spent a few days in the neem tree at the back, right next to the kitchen window. 

An old scanned picture shows you how close it was to us, and I spent my time watching it play mind games with the squirrels. This felt like a house pet, our very own snake, and we would wonder where it disappeared if we didn’t see it around for a few days. I don’t know if it knew us, but it seemed to know that this was the house where it wouldn’t get killed.

Whichever part of the world I am in, I find myself wandering into the countryside, where I eventually find myself in the company of wildlife. Over time, one begins to recognize specific animals. The same pair of female elephants has chased the jeep I have been in on numerous visits to BR hills. A couple of times, they did seem to go particularly out of their way to track us down over the hilly terrain. One of these times, we didn’t see them, and as we went down the road we heard a distant trumpet. We stopped the jeep to see where the elephants were, and there was this pair, two hillocks away, walking purposefully towards the vehicle and trumpeting so that we wait for them. 

This appeared to be a planned attack, they took different routes so that they could get to the jeep from two different directions, and the only reason we didn’t wait there to find out what would happen next is because we recognized the elephants as the notorious two, and made sure we kept adequate distance. 

I am convinced that this was special treatment for the regular forest visitors, because this was certainly very unusual behaviour for a wild animal towards a bunch of unfamiliar tourists. I honestly believe that those elephants recognized us, and I always wonder how. The only stories I share with these elephants is when I have been chased by them – although this regular interaction leaves me with an elephant nightmare every now and then, it is a connection that cannot be ignored.

There is a nice little forest patch near Lollar, the village where my office in Germany is located. I lived in Lollar for a few months a couple of years ago. Being a village, this place lacks any form of entertainment, and the only way I spent my time back then was by taking a walk into this forest. Being a wildlife junkie, my eyes are always scanning the bushes for any form of movement, and invariably I would see a deer or two on each of these walks. This was considered rare, since most of my other colleagues and friends in the area didn’t see the animals quite as often, and they considered me very lucky. Of course, I believe it was partly luck, and but mostly my good eyesight. 

This visit to Germany finds me staying in Giessen, which is a town near Lollar. I travel to Lollar everyday to work, but don’t spend any of my free time there. One weekend I decided to head out for a really long hike, and the trail meandered all over the country side, briefly skirting Lollar at the edge of the same forest. It was a bright and sunny day and there were many walkers in the area – considering the human movement and the fact that I was only at the edge of the forest, I had no hope at all of seeing any of my “deer” old friends again. I was walking along the road, map in hand, and very, very exhausted and I missed a left turn. I walked about 5 minutes along the wrong road, still along the edge of the forest. The road hit a dead end, and I turned around, cursing my carelessness, because my legs didn’t really want to be associated with me any further. On my way back, I kept my eyes open for the turn I missed, and in a small open patch was this deer staring at me, completely still. I was stunned, because this seemed to have been fate working all its magic just to make sure I see a deer here again! It felt like seeing a long lost friend after ages, because it seemed like all the set of events that led to me standing at that place at that time seemed planned just to work out this reunion.

It has been since this run-in with the deer that I have been thinking of writing this blog, and laziness has stopped me ever since. However, today is the 2^nd of April, a big day for a very close friend of mine, and I’m heading off to a weekend in Rome instead of being with her on her wedding day – as I sit in the train heading towards Frankfurt to catch the flight, I think of all the people, animals, things and places I really wish I could see today. One thing I don’t need to look for though, is the pendant that sits firmly around my neck. As it turns out, I almost stepped on it the next day as I went out to get my groceries. There it was, lying on the side of the road, through the very cold night, waiting for me to come by and pick it up again! I suppose if I hadn’t walked by the road at that time, it would have found a way right to my doorstep. My circle of friends does seem to be larger than I realize!

Unnatural Harmony

Over dinner with colleagues the other day, I got talking about wildlife and jungles back home. It scared them a little to know our jungles have tigers and leopards roaming freely, and wondered whether it was safe for people to be going there. The conversation led to the kind of animals one finds around these parts, and the only animal they considered dangerous here, is the wild boar. One colleague said – there are really too many of them and they are a serious problem, although fortunately they are good meat. This is the only way to control their population. I was pensive for the rest of the meal, my mind wandered off, and I was wondering how serious a problem should be that it becomes all right to eat the cause of the problem! I suppose in this case, the boars probably dug up a few roots from a garden, or made a bit of a mess – a mistake unforgivable – I don’t suppose they’d have the same reaction if their children did the same thing! So it’s not really the crime that matters, it’s the perpetuator who determines the kind of punishment deserved, and if the perpetuator is tasty – um well, there couldn’t be much argument, could there.

I always had this impression, that the developed world had more ethics when it comes to nature. They have much more compassion for pets and they like to spend their time with nature, they don’t litter – just as long as nature doesn’t inconvenience them. However, if nature turns out to be the rat in their backyard instead of a squirrel, or a wild boar instead of hedgehog, it becomes worrisome, and what is worrisome, must go. Maybe back home, we don’t care about anyone else other than ourselves, and we don’t pretend to either. Most people I know freeze at the sight of a pet, and wish all animals were always in cages or tied to a leash. Back home, a snake in the backyard is almost always killed, a person with a pet is ridiculed, and picking up trash is beneath dignity. However, there is no exception to the rule; it is like it is; no hypocrisy. So I wonder what the lesser evil is – I am sure if Europe had elephants, there would be wild elephant meat available in all traditional restaurants – unfortunately, here one has to be satisfied with only rabbit, deer and boars.

Domestic and wild together - buffaloes at a salt lick while elephants wait patiently in the darkness of the bamboo behind

I have seen a few and heard of innumerable encounters between animals that can leave one astonished. A documentary I saw, made by National Geographic, has heart rending scenes of the leopard Lakadema and the baby baboon she found after she killed the baboon mother in a hunt (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gpfvkeo0KBc). Equally amazing is the footage of the lioness and the baby Oryx (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svbm9Z7yoyA). I have heard of so many stories where prey and predator have been caught in the same camera frame, completely oblivious of one and another. Without human intervention, the animal world has a perfect sense of balance. A hunt is only driven by hunger, not greed. At all other times, the “lesser” creatures with “smaller” brains appear to have a perfect sense of balance in life, and can coexist with other species without rocking the boat.

Two of the most dangerous and unpredictable animals with their young ones - the bear crosses the path with her cub, while the elephant and the calf are nearby at the salt lick.

Spending a few hours, watching the jungle in complete silence, can bring one across the most amazing interactions. From the smallest to the largest, every animal appears to have its own set of things to do for the day. The birds play in the water, the deer graze, bears walk down to the stream while elephants have their mud bath. The jungle is alive and the amount of activity all around can well equal the hustle of a big city – except without any arguments and loud unpleasant noises. Not only is it difficult for people to coexist with another species, they even find a million petty reasons to fight amongst themselves, be it about language, territory, money, oil, and the list is endless. One must step back and wonder, which one really is the “intelligent” species here. It’s funny to answer the question whether people are safe venturing into a wild jungle where predators roam freely – we all know quite clearly which species is really more at risk in a man-animal encounter.

Contrasts

What got Billy's goat?

Billy Arjan Singh died a few days ago. A man I didn’t know, but always wanted to meet – which is why I regret that I now never can. I no longer am much of a reader, and of the little that I do read, wildlife is a popular subject. Mr. Singh’s stories with Prince and Tara and the rest of the mixed herd always keep me wishing that I could catch a glimpse of that life, if not live it myself.

I am now travelling abroad, doing a long stint on work, and have been contemplating writing a blog – I thought it would keep me busy, and possibly capture some of the experiences I may have. However, with my heart in the Indian jungles, I find it apt that I begin with my first blog now.

Recent visits to some of the jungles of South India leave me angry and upset. Most of the tourists one encounters are rowdy, noisy and boisterous groups, trying to prove to each other that each of them is most capable of scaring the mightiest of animals away. And the small minority of well behaved, civilized tourists is far too well behaved to sit up and take notice, they mind their own business and walk on, possibly muttering that India’s wildlife is in shambles. The forest department is no better either, barring perhaps a very small handful.

The shy langurs have dangerously ventured on to the roads because they are used to receiving food from tourist vehicles

Forest officers who drive their jeeps through the forests at top speed and top volume, are flattered by hordes of “wildlife photographers” who pacify them to get special permissions to enter restricted areas. What else will they do – the common areas are full of ill-mannered humans who cannot leave the forests to themselves, and it’s impossible to rightfully enjoy nature without the noise and commotion caused by the numerous tourists visiting the area. Of course, it is also a matter of pride that they get a rare frame, which could only be rare if they have exclusive access. Expensive lenses and digital technology does the rest, and the skill required to get a good picture takes a backseat.

A home of a government employed forest officer would leave the most imaginative minds astonished. Ornately decorated in teak, rosewood and marble, it is clear that the recent postings have been rather lucrative for the ranger, as well as his mother, wife, aunt and so on – these are typically the names used to register expensive real estate. The job is easy, and the perks include throwing your weight around. Rules are always rules, unless you are closely associated with someone in the department, in which case you find yourself at the end of a long line of vehicles entering the core restricted areas of the forest to catch a glimpse of rarer wildlife. If these favours were granted keeping in mind the behaviour of the group in the jungle, it could be forgiven as there is no other way these people can enjoy the serenity of the forest the way it is meant to be. However, more often than not, most of the special access is available to a group of brightly dressed, screaming, honking dimwits usually related to the local politician in power.

Typical scene of hassling an elephant tempting it to charge to get a few shrieks and thrills from the passengers

Despite well-illustrated instructions, neither the educated tourist nor the forest department pays any attention

The stories from central India are no different, and I often hear that a tiger sighting is accompanied with 30-40 jeeps packed with excitable tourists and guides who live by the motto that “customer is king”. The animals seem dangerously complacent about the presence of humans nearby, and this could certainly not be a good sign.

A vehicle reversing into a spotted deer - what can I say?

While tourism is definitely a good thing, there should be laws to keep in check irresponsible tourism. And the people who care should speak out – as they are the last hope.

An educated conscientious person would understandably stay out of the government. It would be very difficult to fight the corruption alone, and if he did, he would definitely be transferred as fast as possible. On the other hand, why would an educated person want to choose to work in a place where he is bound to earn less money, unless he treads the trodden path like all the others around him? That would only be possible if he is backed by a rich family, and the lucky few who are blessed with this have other things to do it seems.

Like a good friend often says, the jungles were left alone much more when the brigand Veerappan was around. Perhaps the jungles need another brigand today, one that takes it upon himself to take to task all the corrupt politicians, irresponsible travel operators and noisy tourists. A revolution is necessary, much the same way Billy Arjan Singh once stood up to all the officials who came his way.