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Magazine
Sariska under the sun
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Sariska, Rajasthan's wildlife haven, is under threat. RANJIT LAL looks at its three major problems of disturbance.
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Sambhar cooling off.
EVEN at this time of the year, the very beginning of summer, it sprawls dry, thorny and desiccated, in shades of tan, amber, and a hundred browns. A tinderbox tiger reserve where greens are at a premium, and the landscape made even more surreal by the grotesque wholesale lopping that has ravaged so many parts of it. Even the dhak (flame of the forest), in flower, can only flicker feebly as it thrusts amputated limbs crookedly skywards as if in supplication. Greenery crouches around the few perennial streams and artificially filled waterholes. Here, the jungle comes to vibrant life.
At a coffee coloured (and flavoured?!) waterhole, by the side of the main road running through the valley, a small herd of sambhar cool off. The major domo male, tries in desultory fashion to discourage another, which is not yet in proper head-gear while the does gather around. He is quite a ragged fellow actually and not too enthusiastic about things. Further down the road, at a checkpoint, rufous tree pies (mascot bird of Sariska) fly down and will perch on your hand for suitable compensation. They are accompanied by a motley bunch of red-vented bulbuls and jungle babblers. A pair of grey partridge saunters up, pretending to be farmyard chickens, and even a magnificent peacock drifts in, palpitating with hope. At the duckweed covered Salopaca waterhole, a pair of whitethroated kingfishers stiffly stick out their wings (reminiscent of well-trained traffic police directing traffic!) as they display to one another. Probably they are nesting in the mud-banks. Drongos, with their blade-like tails, toss after insects, while at the far end, three rather downcast looking female teal swim disconsolately across. Then, a crested bunting, neat in russet and black and pointy crest comes down to drink, and makes your evening.
A happening place in Sariska in Kankwari fort, where it is said Aurangzeb imprisoned his brother Dara Shikoh, and where today, tigers and leopards pad at will. The drive to it lurches through increasingly devastated terrain as the lopping becomes even more desperate and wholesale: here even the 50-foot date palms have been shorn of their fronds, and virtually anything that grows has been looted for fodder. The drought has spread its tentacles deep inside the jungle. The small lake at the base of the fort is mirror-like, in which a diverse group of birds admire their reflections. There are stooping painted storks, immaculate spoonbills, small groups of dabchicks puttering about like busy little tugboats, and a pair of patrolling river terns, which I think are nesting on a mud-spit at the far side. Wood and green sandpipers dip and dither, while at the other end, a foursome of gingery, black-tailed godwits are sparring in the dust. A grey heron meditates halfway up a tree, while a pair of red-wattled lapwings drive away all comers from their private niche. Barn swallows and house swifts trawl above the water.
Ironically, you get more of a genuine jungle feel at Bandipule, north of the busy Jaipur-Alwar highway, where a stream runs past a rhesus-guarded temple and an old shooting town (pathetically unsporting), and the forest leans close over it. This is another favourite haunt of leopard, but now the pride of place must go to a pair of wonderful brown fish owls, sitting at the entrance of their home — a slit like cave in the cliff side. They see us, and one flies east, the other west, looking larger in flight than while at rest, because their wings are big and broad. One settles on a stump, its bark brown plumage stippled in white, its "ears" horizontal, glowering like a charming old curmudgeon. Take your eyes off it, and you'll be hard pressed to spot it again if you haven't marked the spot. As dusk settles, the nightjars chuck and flicker, dipping low over the water then climbing steeply up into the twilight sky on fastback wings.
The Kankwari Fort, Sariska ... happening place. Pic. RANJIT LAL
Most visitors to Sariska, first go to pay their homage at Pandupole, and the temple complex has expanded a great deal, right in the heart of the park. For peace and quiet, reach there early and never on a Tuesday or Saturday. The road that leads to it passes through some dramatic cliff country and forested gullies, and here amongst the big boulders you can spot the painted spurfowl play hopscotch. The stream that runs along the road is the main draw for bird and animal life. Langurs appear like magic, lining up on the culverts like wise old men awaiting a bus (but begging what tidbits you have), they're far better mannered than the rhesus, which will think nothing of getting inside your vehicle and making off with whatever they can. We followed tiger pugmarks on the road here leading to, hold your breath, tiger crap! So far, there had been little sign of Sariska's fabled raptors, but then, at around 9.30 a.m. we were treated to a grand circling display by half a dozen long-billed vultures, that gave place of honour to a single white-rumped vulture and a prawn faced King (or red-faced) vulture.
A honey buzzard set off in heavy pursuit of a Bonelli's eagle, and a clean looking Scavenger vulture flew on in solitary splendour. And amidst the bamboo pennants, a shikra jinked and swerved, cutting a dash so to speak.
Even the desiccated areas were not entirely devoid of birds. A large cuckooshrike posed quite cooperatively, but a rather clean looking spotted owlet would not be made an ulloo out of by paparazzi from Delhi pointing bazooka lenses at it. The few dhak that had been allowed to grow (along the road) had parakeets feasting on them in their usual wastrel princeling fashion as well as excited sunbirds zipping to and fro.
Sariska's three major problems need to be tackled urgently if it is to realise its full potential.
The villagers need to be given a better option than stripping the forest leafless and branchless, the disturbance caused by the temples needs to be minimised and the smooth Jaipur-Alwar road that runs through the park, needs to be shut down for heavy traffic, especially during the night, when roadkills by trucks include tiger and leopard. There's a haven here under the sun, just waiting to be created.
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