Kanha-V

We raided the bowls and trays like starving tramps and soon the dishes were made to look washing a completely redundant exercise. Veg or non-veg did not matter now, not even to the most fervent followers of flesh-eating amongst us. The attendant at the canteen was amazed at the speed of our intake. If he was ever afraid of the Tiger's appetite we were surely giving him afterthoughts at this moment. All done and devoured it was time for some afternoon reflection. Lounging in the afternoon sun people around me were having their favorite pastime of choking me to death with 'that obnoxious smoke-machine' they call cigarette. Dodging this way and that I was trying to have a conversation with the troupe, but with little success. Plans and possibilities for the evening-trip into the forest were being discussed. All seemed eager to have another rendezvous with the Striped Beast. Soon it was 3 and now familiar with the system of affairs a little more we were less wide-eyed on entry. Two owls stayed perched inside the hole drilled into a old banyan tree, indifferent to the approaching cars. They had indeed adjusted well it seemed.

There is one thing amongst others which is remarkable about a forest. Feeling the forest is a completely different experience from under the shade than under the sun. Not only is the temperature drop stark and realizable it also provides a kaleidoscopic variety to a single frame of vision when viewed from different angles, at different times. The most absorbing aspect of this trip was becoming the sudden forays of evening radiance interleaved with climbing shadows of the sal. At one bend we saw a family of elephants, three adults and one infant. They seemed to be in a bit of hurry and our guide told us that they belonged to the forest department. Elephants were used to track and monitor the animals ( especially the tiger population) during the monsoon season when navigating the kuchha roads would become impossible.

A word of mention for our present guide here. A fair, strapping individual who seemed every bit the army-jawan type, dedicated to the cause of the forest, devoted to the contentment of the tourists under his charge. But, alas, our discovery was a total contradiction to such expectations.
He stopped our car and went all-ears for fifteen minutes at a stretch, perching on his seat, straining his ear muscles in anticipation of some otherwise humanly imperceptible signal, forbidding us to make any murmuring noise or even less. A tiger was on the prowl nearby, he would have us believe. Then, as if on a cue the monkeys on top of the trees bordering the dense thicket around us started calling out. This call was very different from their normal ones. These were the alarm-calls. Distinct, unmistakable and unfailing in their ability to inspire dread in any animal, even humans. The monkeys gave out such screeching alarm-calls when they would sight a tiger. And we were, if the instincts and calculations of the guide were to believed, some ten hands away from it. But then, nothing happened. Twenty minutes into the wait already and our guide and Rajenbhai seemed stuck on the issue if to move forward or stay waiting for the tiger to make an appearance. The alarm-calls had since long stopped. Helping the course of decision I suggested we move forward. "Agar naseeb mein hain to dikh jayegaa", were my exact wordings. This proposal met with nods of approval and we moved away, to a new location. Little did I know then that this innocuous statement of mine would come back to haunt me later. On our way we intercepted a bunch of wild-boars crossing the road. Shy yet every bit enthusiastic to show us their wares, some even came out of the bushes. They were very short and dark, but looked stocky and ferocious. One wild-boar in its natural surroundings could give even a tiger a tough time, we were told.
Half-an-hour or so passed. Coming to a crossroad we could see one gypsy waiting in anticipation of a tiger. The foreigners in that car were as laconic as their guide was garrulous. Avik, not the one to curb his communication skills even in this haunting wilderness, seemed to have found the perfect audience to his antics in them, a blue-eyed girl. "From which country?" was his inaugural query. "England" being the polite succinctness in her tongue it failed miserably to curb further inquests from the other direction. "First time in India? On vacation? Enjoying your trip to ?" were next in store for the unsuspecting soul. She mumbled and nodded to show that she approved of our country very much, but the swiftness of her departure/escape showed that her belief in the semi-literate desi was amply shaken. Whether she recovered or not we will never know. In the mean-time gypsies arriving from the spot we left after waiting for twenty minutes reported that they had spotted a tiger there. And quick to sense the danger in the air as had been taught to him from his childhood perhaps ( though there weren't any that we were posing him) our army-jawan did a volte face. And believe me, he was quite good at it. He squarely put the blame on me for having missed the tiger. That I had allayed his confused state with my philosophical one-liner was lost on him now. He even rued having left that spot at all. My amazement making way for mild amusement could not garner a suitable response from within. Perhaps we were too tired for it. I even complied with him that we had "missed the tiger. Blame be on me."


Tired we were. After the evening-tea was arranged to be delivered to our door-step ( thanks to the immaculate theatrics of Alekhya feigning someone amongst us was 'really beemar' and hence room-service a necessity) life comprised mainly of waiting for the dinner. A little bolder after the previous night, Baeka showed us groups of tens of cheetals thronging the adjoining field under the cover of the night on our way to the canteen. As the torch-light met them in their eyes, some ran away, some stayed on, petrified. Another sumptuous dinner purged off the plates we couldn't wait to watch the stars today. A pity i.e. Everyone was dog-tired. Back in the dormitory, Avik was complaining of an upset tummy, deprived of rest or any time to acclimatize. In the current light of things ( the upset tummy of course ) the feasibility of conducting a morning-trip next day was being discussed. One could gauge all was not right with his war-hog-like digesting capabilities which seldom failed to deliver. Then suddenly, when everyone thought Avik was reclined to relieve himself of his 'present worries', he came rushing out from the toilet. He seemed excited about something, something he had never believed he could do and yet had finally accomplished with much effort and pain. A cherubic smile complicit with a look of astonishment told us of its 'novelty-quotient'. And believe me, we were not at all off-mark on this.




This is what greeted our eyes and revulsed our senses:
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Avik had done it.






to be continued.................................