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The silhouetted deer is so massive and still that it seems almost sculptural in the thinning dark. Even when our car draws level with the full-grown sambar, it does not flinch or flee. Its curiosity matches our awe, and I have time to observe that the flaring three-pointed antlers end in white tips. And to think, this is my "tiger moment," the highlight of my trip to Tadoba.
It's fair to say that most visitors to the Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve consider time spent here without a glimpse of the beast as time wasted. Forest officials frequently remind guests that they "can't guarantee a tiger" because their policies don't allow staged sightings. But people frequently stop each other to ask, "Tiger mila, sir?" They crane their heads out of car windows to scrutinise the roads for pugmarks. I am somewhat bemused by this endemic hankering after the animal. I'm happy just to be here, grinding along dirt roads that cut through endless teak trees and bamboo. I marvel at "ghost trees" whose white bark and bare, flailing branches appear almost eerie in certain lights. The encounter with the sambar leaves me slack-jawed.
When the deer finally darts into the bamboo thicket, we continue driving in near silence to the core forest. The day feels too young, the air too bitterly cold, for conversation. Then we arrive at Pandharpauni, one of nine viewpoints in Tadoba. It's extensive meadow came up when a tribal village of the same name was relocated in 1972, the abandoned fields turned into grassland. Climbing an iron watchtower (no longer allowed now), we immediately begin to appreciate the diverse wildlife drawn to its various microhabitats. Spotted deer and peacocks feed in the sun-bleached grass, which turns tawny as the sun rises. Egrets speckle the tops of trees, and wild boar root in the swampy edges of the lake.
The gilded meadow and placid animals seem to defy the fact that Tadoba is a jungle that has been part of Project Tiger for a decade. I think to myself that a tiger or leopard appearance would merely be a bonus after this view. But a companion bemoans our lack of luck. "We should probably have brought some Tiger biscuits," he wisecracks, then mocks his own sense of humour. "Now you see how desperate I am."
It ought to be easy to see wild cats in Tadoba, a national park since 1955 that has approximately 93 tigers and over 80 leopards. But it is winter, and the trees - mohua, ain, jamun - are at their verdant best. The undergrowth of bamboo is as riotous as it is green. The wild grass rises six to eight feet high. Waterfalls, rock pools and streams emerge everywhere, so that the waterholes that attract big cats in the summer lie forsaken.
After Pandharpauni, we visit the other "points" of this reserve forest. They vary widely in topography and wildlife, but each has a waterhole of some sort, natural or man-made, where animals congregate in the dry season. Dhauna, where we spot a crested hawk eagle and crested serpent eagle, is no more than a dirt road flanked on either side by a steep vegetated cliff and the Bhanuskhindi river. The birds start to call out to each other to proclaim their territories, and their cries sound, oxymoronically, like melodious shrieks.
At Jamunbodi, an elevated grassland descending sharply to a pool ringed by trees, we see a wild bison almost totally obscured by soaring grass and a wild boar skulking among the trees. At Panchdhara, a small clearing, we spend two hours up in a rickety watchtower, watching black-faced langurs scale jamun trees and pond herons fish in a rivulet. A sambar appears but sees our guide and dashes back with a tinny cry of alarm.
As we drive from viewpoint to viewpoint, we see groups of men and women along the roadsides, hacking grasses and low branches with axe and sickle. They are local villagers, hired to make "firelines" or open swathes of land that serve to stanch forest fires and to provide a front from which to launch fire-fighting operations. Tadoba's tendu and mahua trees - used to make beedis and liquor respectively - are often the cause of forest fires. Locals are said to start the fires because it encourages new growth of tendu leaves, and because the mahua flowers are easier to see and pick from the ashes on the forest floor.
Officially, harvest of any sort - of peacock feathers or honey, deer antlers or timber or fruits - is prohibited here. As part of Project Tiger, this forest merits the highest standard of protection and management. We are not allowed to alight from our vehicle inside the jungle, except near the designated viewpoints. Between 11am and 3pm, our group idles at the visitors' centre near Tadoba Lake because it is mandated "rest time". (Note that this is also not allowed anymore)
The stuffed tiger that is the prize exhibit at the visitor's centre holds little appeal, so we walk down to the lake. It's a deceptively idyllic body of water underneath whose shimmering surface lurk marsh crocodiles. A sign posted here warns, "Swimming is strictly prohibited-Survivors will be prosecuted." We fail to see a single reptile, but find a small white temple crammed with tribal and Hindu idols in terracotta and stone. We learn from our guide that it is was built to soothe the spirit of a Gond tribal called Taru who was killed at this exact spot by a tiger, and that is how Tadoba got its name.
Resuming our long, lingering drives, we see several more forest shrines, all built by the adivasis who have lived here since time immemorial. Our guide points out the chattan or salt licks, patches of earth that appear white and cratered. This moon-like soil has a high calcium content, which the deer sniff out and then lick to grow their horns. We visit Dhauna Point, where the ains, also called "crocodile bark trees" because of their scaly bark, are wreathed in vines that twist and swoop and arch from branch to trunk to earth. These fantastic forms, we are told, act as an "earthing system" to protect the ains from lightning bolts.
Then we retire for the day, and I am almost light-headed from all I have seen. The no-show of the big cats is a non-issue for me, but it's otherwise for my travelling companion. "I don't think we'll spot the tiger," he says. Our guide suggests we not let "this tiger fixation" ruin our mood and instead "just enjoy the forest". My friend looks unconvinced, and we decide to focus our efforts the next day, our last in Tadoba, on finding the beasts.
We start driving so early in the morning that we reach the forest core well before the pink sun bobs into the sky. Our first stop is Pandharpauni, whose low-lying meadow offers a vantage point from which to hear the cries of animals. A barking deer raises an alarm from somewhere along Navegaon Road. We detect a dark shape along the road, but it turns out to be a villager armed with a stick. From then on, it's a mad scramble - from Navegaon Road to Waghai Road to Kollaradhari Road to Satyanau Point - as we follow a series of alarm calls.
At each of these sites, we linger hushed and still. "The tiger has seen us and is sitting down somewhere here," the guide whispers at each halt, but when we peer into wild grass and bamboo thicket we see only sun-stippled shadows. It is, however, an ideal time to savour the details of forest life. We test the strength of the filaments of ripped spider webs and admire the distinctive pattern of bear claw marks on jamun tree trunks. Finally, we reach an unspoken consensus to abandon the attempts to out wait the cats.
We use the remaining hour to visit one of the six tribal villages that remained within the reserve, relocated since. Jamni turned out to be a sprawling affair inside the core forest. In this incongruous setting, we saw fields with men threshing rice and a tractor collecting the grain, women washing clothes on the margins of a lotus-filled lake, and bullock carts raising dust clouds as they cart firewood to the village. The men playing carrom in the village tell us they would gladly shift if adequate recompense were offered. The hardships they describe are painfully familiar - lack of electricity, a primary health centre that is 12km away and constant raids on their crops by wild animals.
On the way out, our guide asks to stop the jeep by the lake. The view of lotuses, ducks and cormorants is lovely, but we are nonplussed when he wades thigh-high into the water and starts to poke at a pink lotus with a stick. We holler anxious reminders about the 11am curfew, but he continues to prod at the flower until it finally snaps. He returns in triumph and dangles the wet long-stemmed bloom towards me. Startled, I ask, "For me"? He nods, and I truly don't care that the only tiger I have seen after three days in Tadoba is a stuffed one.
Getting there: The Tadoba Andhari Tiger Reserve is most conveniently accessed from Nagpur (120km/2.5hrs). From Mumbai, take the Vidarbha Express or Nagpur Duronto.
Where to stay: Many private resorts and hotels are available at different price points. Tadoba Jungle Camp offers elevated cottages with a pool to relax in (INR 13000 per cottage).
MTDC runs a tourist complex at Mohurli, just outside the main gate of the reserve. It offers clean rooms overlooking the Irai dam. Bookings are available in Nagpur (0712-2533325), Chandrapur (07172-251654) or Mumbai (022-2202-6713//7762/7784). A clean communal dining room offers Indian food.
The most luxurious place to stay in Tadoba is Waghoba Eco Lodge, about 5kms from the Khutwanda gate of the reserve. (INR 19500 per cottage) Charges include accommodation and all meals. pugdundeesafaris.com
When to go: Wildlife sightings are best from April to June. Temperatures in the summer, however, reach the high forties. The natural beauty of the forest is best appreciated in the winter months, which is also the most pleasant time to visit. Tadoba is also quite lovely during the monsoon.
- Tadoba gets extremely cold in winter and extremely hot in summer. Prepare adequately.
- Power cuts are frequent in Mohurli, so bring your torch.
- Mobile phone reception is spotty in Mohurli and non-existent inside Tadoba.
- Cars can be hired from Nagpur or Chandrapur.
- Take home a bottle of mahua liquor (nice taste, unpleasant aftertaste) is easily available in Mohurli, and costs INR 60-70 a bottle. Dip a corner of a clean handkerchief in the alcohol and light it. If the flame burns blue, the liquor is fit to drink.
