Royalty of a different kind

The Ranthambore forests, once the former hunting grounds of the Maharajas of Jaipur, are now home to the tiger, says V. S. RAGHAVAN.

RAJASTHAN, India's north western State epitomises the undulating deserts, camel fairs, the "Pink City" of Jaipur, and women who wear the most pungent of colours. Deep inside this fascinating countryside, lies the Ranthambhore National Park.

This wildlife refuge lies between the Aravalli and the Vindhya ranges - undulating wilderness that is dry, hot and sparse in vegetation in the intense summer, and close to freezing during the winter. During the summer months, the dry deciduous jungles here turn into "brownery", from greenery. The water holes shrink to small muddy pools where the animals come to drink, and among the shadows, lurks the big cat. The trap is all set.

Last April, our group, members of the Madras Naturalists Society, set off towards Rajasthan in the hope of seeing the fabled tigers of Ranthambhore. The town of Sawai Madhopur, the railhead for the park, was typically dusty, chaotic and chocked with all forms of traffic - and yet only some 14 kilometres away, were the vast forests, and the tigers.

Ranthambhore, as a tiger reserve, is truly unique. Entry to the national park is through huge wooden gates, the remnants of a 1,000-year-old fort. The Chauhans of Sapadlaks built the fort and the Lord Shiva temple in the 10th Century A.D.. Ruins of the old fortifications punctuate the landscape as one drives through the park. Kings and queens sat in the comfort and safety of the mahals on the lake's edge and watched wildlife. Today, the forests and its denizens remain, with royalty having faded with the march of time.

We spent five glorious days here in the simmering heat, driving around dusty forest tracts with parched throats, empty water bottles and bloodshot eyes. The afternoon April temperatures in the shade was a scorching 45'C, and the terrain was tinder dry as far as the eye could see. Simply mumbling the word "fire" would have set the forests ablaze.

Quite acceptably, judging by how even seasoned wildlife enthusiasts can react in such situations, our blatantly biased eyes were kept peeled open exclusively for the big cats. Our luck paid off on our very first chukker, when we drove up to a tigress cooling off in a pool of water. She paid no attention to us and continued to soak herself till a few more jeeps drove up, and she rose gracefully and drifted into the forest. Early next day, by the dirt road that ran through a forest tract called Lakkarda, we drove up to another tigress head on. She stopped to stare at us, looked around, walked up to a bush and sprayed it with urine, and strolled off, paying no attention to the human hoopla around her. The very next morning, we were inching through what seemed to the only green patch in this jungle near Bakaula Nullah, and there he was. Bambooram, the old male tiger, was strolling down the track heading straight for us. Mixed emotions of excitement tinged with fear, ran through my mind while I levelled my heavy Nikon and telephoto. But Bambooram, being the old gentleman that he was, brushed past our van and let me take my pictures. This was a truly awesome sight, a huge tiger up so close. (Bambooram is claimed to be missing of late - a recent article in India Today). Oh yes, we did go on to see two more tigers over the next few days but those are stories for another day.

With running into tigers getting to be unusually predictable, we turned our sights towards the other wild animals that are seen at Ranthambhore. Two animals some of us saw for the first time were the Nilghai or Blue Bull and the Cinkara or Indian Gazelle. The Nilghai looks blue from a distance, but is an ashy gray up close. The fleet footed Cinkara, a cousin of the African Thompsons Gazelle, is renowned to outrun any predator worth its fangs. Also in plenty were sambhar and large herds of spotted deer, with marsh crocodiles basking on the mud banks of the drying lakes of Raj Bagh Talao and Padam Talao. Troops of common langurs scattered and stopped to peer at us from a safe distance. Sounders of wild boar were promptly nicknamed "Ranthambhorboar".

Doubtlessly, this is also peacock country. Cocks with their ornate tail feathers fanned out, trying to impress the lesser decorated peahens were a common sight. Whether this floorshow had a great impact on the peahens or not, it certainly took our breath away. A Brown Fish Owl inspected us from his perch as we drove by below. Bush Quail and Grey Partridge scurried away from us on our approach. Red Wattled Lapwings, cried loudly on the wing "did-he-do-it?" when our van came too close for comfort. Crested buntings and drongos flitted about among the trees and white backed vultures soared up in the sky, waiting for nature to pass the death sentence on some unfortunate animal.

In my opinion, the odds of spotting the tiger is directly proportionate to the amount of discomfort that can be endured, as the two factors seem to be co-related. For those who plan to visit Ranthambhore, it is extremely rewarding to come here during summer, even though it can be unbearably hot. The truth may lie in the fact that animals have to stay close enough to rapidly evaporating streams and pools, and all the wildlife we saw, were near water. Finally, my conscience hisses through clenched teeth that I dump the "Tiger mode" in my mind, and continue to enjoy watching everything else that can be seen at Ranthambhore. After all else, if you do get to see the tigers, well, were you lucky.

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