Sayan Sarkar
BEEP! BEEP! A mobile alarm goes off.
As I emerge from my sleep, my eyes slowly adjust to the yellowish hue of the night lamp in the room. After a moment of brief confusion, I remember that I am in a hotel located within the buffer zone of Jim Corbett National Park in Uttarakhand. Originally named Hailey National Park after William Malcolm Hailey, the park was renamed in 1956 after hunter extraordinaire Edward James Corbett, lovingly known to the world simply as Jim Corbett. Having heard and read stories of his exceptional exploits as a hunter and his unwavering love for the people of India, it had always been my dream to visit the national park that he had helped establish. Jim Corbett National Park was also India’s first national park.
It is December, and I am here with my lab senior and friend—someone who shares my love of forests, wildlife, and adventure. We reached our destination last night and went to sleep early because we had a jungle safari planned for the next day, i.e., today at six in the morning.
I grab my watch from the bedside table. The radium dial informs me that it is only five in the morning, ample time to get prepared for our adventure through the forest. Braving the cold and a strong urge to stay in bed, I force myself up and freshen up.
Around 5:30, I wake my friend up and get dressed. Dressed in a safari-coloured jacket and matching boots, I joke to myself that I might blend right into the jeep—except for my face, of course!
As the minute hand of my wristwatch races towards six, we wait eagerly in anticipation for the arrival of our jeep. Outside, silence cloaks the forest.
The silence is broken by the sound of an approaching engine, and we are delighted to see a safari jeep entering our hotel premises. It is 6:01 a.m. The driver is quite punctual!
We rush downstairs in excitement and board the jeep, exchanging pleasantries with the driver, who is surprised to see that we are as punctual as he is! Alright then, time to start our adventure!
As we move out of our hotel premises, the driver informs us that there are six entry gates into the main zone of Corbett National Park. We are heading towards Dhela, which is a half an hour’s drive from our location. As we whiz past the hotels in the buffer zone at more than 60 kmph, a continuous gust of cold wind bites at our skin. We huddle against the biting wind. After a few minutes, there is complete darkness all around, and our vision is aided only by the headlights of our jeep. Dense foliage flanks the road, and occasional bird calls echo through the darkness.
We reach the gate of Dhela, where we see three other safari jeeps waiting in line. The forest rangers are checking the IDs of the passengers and making sure that everything is in order before the jeeps are allowed to enter the main forest. A couple of people are approaching the jeeps and offering binoculars for rent. A young girl offers us binoculars—we rent a pair for 200 rupees. Once our IDs are cleared, a guide hops on our jeep with a broad smile on his face. He introduces himself and informs us that he will guide us through the forest for the next three hours.
As we start our journey through the Dhela Zone, the sky begins to clear, bathing the horizon in a reddish-orange glow—pure magic. It looks heavenly. The guide informs us that there are currently around 260 tigers who have made this national park their home, and who continue thriving in this environment. We learn that tigers usually move through the forest only when it is sunny and warm, conditions which make them hungry as well as thirsty.
Therefore, it seems that our chances of a tiger encounter depend greatly on the prevailing weather conditions. We keep our fingers crossed in the hopes that the sun comes out in all its dazzling glory, spreading its warmth across the land.
The scenery is beautiful! On both sides of the road, there are tall grasslands shining with a golden hue, making it look like the mythical city of El Dorado. The mountains loom ominously in the background, as if hiding ancient secrets across their rugged terrains. Our bodies have acclimatised to the cold by this time, and we are captivated by the beauty of the jungle.
The scent of trees and wet earth stirs something ancient in me—a primal memory we all carry. It feels like I have known the forest all my life. It is a part of me. I am only returning to it after a temporary hiatus in the civilised world. And it welcomes me with open arms, just like a mother welcomes her child after a long period of separation.
The sun has climbed a long way up by this time, and the entire forest seems to have woken up after a tiring slumber. We see a herd of spotted deer (Cheetal), grazing in the shade of a large banyan tree. The elders, with fully grown horns, are standing on guard along the outer edges of the herd and scanning for potential threats while ruminating. The young deer are in the centre, happily munching away at their breakfast and running around in circles. They do not seem perturbed by our approaching vehicle and continue their activities, ignoring us completely. I remember that I had read somewhere that animals usually see the safari vehicles as a different species of animals. That is why they are not much alarmed. It is only when people get out of the vehicles that the animals take notice, and their fight or flight instincts kick in. We click pictures of the deer herd from different angles, and leave them to their activities before moving on.
As we continue along the road, we scan the forest with growing intensity, hunting for a flash of black and orange. We are occasionally greeted by jeeps coming from the opposite direction, and are duly informed that none of them have seen traces of a tiger yet.
Two hours have passed, and we have still not had any success. While it is true that the beauty of the jungle is mesmerising, we feel a bit dejected as our hopes of seeing the elusive Bengal tiger seem to fade away. I remind myself of an old saying that states that even if you are unable to see the tiger, the tiger has seen you through the jungle. My chain of thought is suddenly broken by the loud call of a barking deer. Our jeep comes to an abrupt halt, and both the guide and the driver get up in excitement. The guide informs us in a hushed voice that the barking deer has just informed the jungle that a tiger is on the move nearby. I am reminded of a story of Jim Corbett, where he states that the inhabitants of the jungle have a language of their own, and a successful hunter can read the jungle as an open book if they can understand this language.
Our jeep engine is turned off, and all four of us get up and wait with bated breath for the next clue as to the whereabouts of the roaming predator. After a few tense seconds, the barking deer calls again, followed by a langur who corroborates the presence of the tiger.
We wait silently and eagerly, all the hair on my body standing up in anticipation. After a few moments, I hear a faint low-pitched growl, followed by another. I look at the guide for confirmation, and he nods his head in agreement. It seems that luck is on our side today!
The spot where we are standing is an animal crossing zone, and a canal-like clearing is present on our right. Any animal crossing the clearing will be visible to us. As we keep our eyes glued to the spot, every second feels like an eternity.
Suddenly, the sound of an approaching jeep engine disturbs the silence of the forest. A look of disappointment flashes across the face of our guide. The tiger has been made aware of our presence. It will most likely go back to the forest now. As the approaching jeep meets us, the passengers are a bit surprised by the dejected looks on our faces. But the driver understands and immediately turns off the engine.
The guides of the two jeeps discuss our chances of a sighting, and it is decided that we will wait a bit longer in the off chance that the tiger decides to cross even after being made aware of our presence. So, the wait begins again. Minute after agonising minute passes by with no sign of the tiger.
It is one thing not to spot the tiger at all, and quite a different thing to be so close to one and yet fail to spot one. I cannot shake the feeling of dejection that grows in my mind. I am certain that our chance has gone. Another case of so near, yet so far!
Suddenly, our guide lets out an ecstatic (albeit hushed) cry and yells as silently as he can! “Tiger! Tiger! Look over there!” Within a flash, all our eyes are trained upon the canal, just in time to see a Royal Bengal tiger, in all its glory, coming out into the clearing.
My mobile is already out and I have started taking pictures. The tiger reaches the middle of the clearing and starts moving in the opposite direction, its back towards us, its tail moving aimlessly. Then, suddenly, it stops in its tracks. It turns its head around and looks directly in our direction! It scans the six pairs of watchful eyes trained upon its body. Here I am, it seems to be saying. Feast your eyes on my resplendence!
After a few seconds, the tiger is satisfied with the effect that its appearance has caused, and it decides to stroll through the forest and disappear on the other side of the clearing. I had read somewhere that the stripes of a tiger often confuse its prey and keep them transfixed to the spot despite the impending danger. Looking at the stationary figure of the tiger for those few seconds, I could feel the unspeakable horror that these animals must feel in the presence of the apex predator.
Once the tiger disappears from our sight, we congratulate each other for this successful sighting and compare the photos on our phones to see who got the better images. It is almost nine a.m., and we start making our way back to the Dhela gate. Along the road, we catch up with many other safari jeeps, and we realise quite soon that none of them have spotted a tiger today.
I think the main reason we were successful was because of our patience. While most of the jeeps wandered around the forest without stopping much, we were rooted to the same spot for more than 20 minutes. Even when it seemed like the tiger would not appear, we still waited patiently against all odds. In the end, our patience was rewarded, and we were gifted with a royal encounter. An encounter that will remain etched in our memories as long as we live and breathe.
As we move out of the Dhela gate and start approaching our hotel, I recall the adage Patience is a Virtue. Oh, how true it is! How true it is!
Sayan Sarkar was born and raised in Kolkata and is currently an Associate Professor in the Department of Electronics and Communication Engineering at IEM, Salt Lake. An engineer by profession but a storyteller at heart, he is a passionate reader and lifelong learner who spends his leisure time immersed in books and new ideas. He primarily writes fiction, seeking to entertain and inspire readers through his narratives. His short stories have appeared in Twist & Twain Magazine, and one has been accepted for publication in Borderless Journal.
Featured Photo: “Filmmakers were busy capturing footage of this sub-adult tiger in Bijrani zone of Corbett TR, Uttarakhand, India” by Soumyajit Nandy (Wikimedia Commons)
Beautifully written.
Feel like visiting Corbett National Park!
Fantastic.
Good read.
Was hooked till the end.
The grandeur of the royal bengal tiger in full display.
Enthralling.
Patience really is a virtue.