In The Moment
I had a week’s work in Jaipur, but an
unexpected holiday wedged itself in the middle, leaving me at a loose end. Mr
B. the local colleague suggested we take a trip to
the Ranthambhore Tiger Sanctuary. I readily agreed eager to
see a tiger at last. Ever since I had read that I was in the ‘Year of the Tiger’, I have been curious to see the animal in
its natural habitat. Visits to several sanctuaries proved futile. I was always in a Jeep that arrived too early or too
late.
We decide to take a train to Sawai
Madhopur and catch the afternoon safari in Ranthambhore Tiger Sanctuary. Just a day before our
journey, the Resort Manager called.
“Sorry to tell you Mam, there is a big fog
in the morning so train will be running late, you miss Safari. No problem
we can try next day.”
The temperament of a veteran traveler is to savour the
unexpected, not fret about last minute changes in the itinerary, and smile easily as meticulous plans go awry. It calls for an emotional - intellectual flexibility
of trapeze gymnast swinging bars. There is always the safety net and prayer to hope it holds. Consider how Phileas Fogg won his wager to circumvent the earth in eighty days way back in 1873? Travel is not for the
faint heart.
I saw my venture as a tryst with nature,
fog was part of the experience and suddenly ‘Project Tiger’ metamorphosed into
a exploration ramble beginning with a train ride and ending in a game park. Often I am appalled at the emotional meltdown of a scholarly person chaffing at a traffic snarl or at a level crossing when
the barricade comes down unexpectedly. I was determined to go with the flow after all a pesky fog is is in its natural habitat for the month of January in Northern India and my goal was to sight the elusive tiger. The moment I decided to blend with the stream of the natural weather and enjoy its adventure, I felt ebullient energetic.
Mr. B sensed my attitude and was quickly reassured.
“Look here B. let us enjoy tomorrow in all its moods. Getting vexed
over what is to come and forgo what is here now is to suffer a double loss. I
propose we go ahead with our evening dinner plans and catch the Intercity tomorrow.”
Of
course the Intercity was abominably late and as the train departure got pushed
further and further back. I had to make a serious effort to
hold my frustration in rein. Philosophical ruminations on ill tempered scholars
is one thing, a shrug shudder from a nonchalant station master
who gave a laconic smile to my question on how much longer was much harder to digest. Would we make it in time for the 2.30 Safari or not?
Around noon the Intercity pulled in. A few minutes later we hurtled out of
Jaipur and whizzed past picturesque countryside.
Mr. B accosted the ticket checker going
down the aisle clicking his gadget like castanets. ' Sir, how much time to Sawai Madhopur?’
‘Very short distance, we should arrive by 2.30.’
Mr. B called the Tourist Office at
Sawai Madhopur. They agreed to collect us from the railway station; we would go directly on the Safari. Now all that was required was the train to
get us there on time.
The ticket checker heard our conversation. He decided to join our team as navigator. As the wheels clacked and ate the kilometres, he called out the milestones every fifteen minutes. The tourist agent knew my every five kilometres exactly how far off we were to Sawai Madhopur. We arrive with five minutes to spare and Mr.B is relaying our arrival to the tourist agent. Our ticket checker friend waves us out of the coach with a hand
flourish.
‘Where are you all now?’
‘Exiting from the station.’
We confront the Safari guide mobiles glued to respective ears. It was a 007 moment!
The guide hustled us out and
threw us in an auto rickshaw. The auto driver was a duplicate for Steve
McQueen in The Great Escape, we clung to handholds and prayed to arrive in a piece. Mercifully there was no traffic, and
in minutes we are at a waiting open Canter from the park safari. Breathless with
nervous excitement we clamber in.
The afternoon was warm with winter heat, and sharp sun rays touch our flushed faces to a rosy hue. We entered the Ranthambhore
sanctuary, the parkland home to over twenty five tigers
and six cubs, leopards, sloth bear, samba, nilgai, peacocks and the
playful tree pies.
A moment of epiphany. I asked myself if the safari was only
about the tiger or an experience on the wonders of the wild. As ‘project tiger,’ I could be sorely disappointed as in
earlier attempts; but if I savoured the anticipation of the
unexpected, the glimpse of the fleet footed, the flying burst of turquoise
blue, every sense straining, scanning and observing, eyes unblinking, mouth
slightly open and the body held in stillness, I would enjoy the game drive for its own
sake without an agenda. I decided to enjoy the present.
The guide points out on the far side steep ravines perfect
for a leopard hide out. Fat wild fowl and peacock, young
sprightly males with gorgeous plumage strut in front of the Canter as though on a
fashion parade. The brilliance of colour blinded; the sun dipped behind lazy
clouds, a sweet cool breeze brushed my face. We stopped. The guide pointed upwards; in a hollow among the lofty branches a pair of
collar owls sat unblinking, transfixed. With a shock I realised that the birds
or animals neither flapping or fleeing on hearing the Canter rumble. This was a part
of their protective routine and they understood it posed no danger to
them.
Hordes of spotted deer, followed by the exotic
antelopes and the bovine samba and nilgai made way for the many water holes on this
route and four large crocs take advantage of the last rays of the sun,
lying immobile on the muddy bank. Cormorants trip up close picking up tit bits
from the marsh grass, supervised by a perfectly motionless kingfisher. My eyes
looked further, to fearless squirrels trapeze and babblers flit and
flutter. The shadows lengthen and the woods start to look mysterious without direct sun light. It’s still very light but the warmth had faded. The tracker
points out pug marks on the road side; a young male tiger had crossed recently.
Next morning we are back on the Canter after a great night rest
at the Resort. Peter the Resort manager placed us on route 5. There was thick fog
so dense that one’s face was hidden. The cold bit the bones, everyone huddled under the blankets provided by the Resort. We enter a new part of the sanctuary. Dense vegetation, trees, and tall grass do not allow a glimpse of any animal or bird. It's early the guide informs as the Canter slows on the rough track. The morning silence was shattered by a short bark. The driver
halts the Canter and all of us froze as in a tableau.
‘Listen,’ whispered guide Vijay, ‘it’s the Samba
bark.’
Again a short bark and again and again, five barks
punctured the fog.
"What is it", we whispered?
The guide hissed back, " the samba gives a
warning call when a tiger or a leopard is on the move. Be still."
We waited. There was thrashing in the
under growth. A young samba ran right across the road, followed more
leisurely by a full grown adult. We remained motionless for ten minutes, seeing through our ears.
The fog lifted. In a small clearing a
young female spotted deer suckled her doe, placid and still, the only movement
the quick flicking of the doe's tail. Two and half hours in the park and we were headed back. The fog lifted, sun shimmers down, blankets are off and the
long tail sponges were out. Parrots screeched over head and monkeys ran lazily
from tree top to branch. We pass another clearing and behold a rare sight of
two young bucks with perfectly shaped antlers fencing. There was no aggression in their movements, just a sensuous tango
performed to a silent orchestra. Feint, spar, the antlers click like dandiya sticks. Dust swirls rose up in the sun rays.
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