Tadoba
Bodies sore from the past two days of forest excursions, skins parched from the aridity of the Deccan, and lungs heaving in the piercing chills of central India, we pushed off for our fourth and final safari at the Tadoba Andhari Tiger Reserve. It was six in the morning, an emanating hue of misty blues lay suspended over the forest floor, still as a cloud. All of life awaited the arrival of the gleaming sun.
The northernmost entrance to the forest, the Navegaon Gate, was swung open, and the all-pervading silence swiftly slipped away. There rose a synchronised uproar of Gypsy engines starting up, and the routine human infiltration of the forest was underway.
The forest’s soft rejuvenating breath turned into a gale of sharp wintry blades piercing further into our thickly protected skins as the Gypsy drove deeper into the heart of the woodland. The morning held promise.
The three previous outings had been rather dry and desolate. The forest seemed to be engulfed in an emptiness, and a painful silence was eminent behind all the human commotion. Despite having had good glimpses of the rich wildlife, including the likes of elusive wild dogs and that of a tiger named Balaram on the very first safari, I was disappointed — disappointed that perhaps the forest had not entirely opened itself up to me, or rather I had not been open enough to feel it in its entirety.
We entered the forest for one last time. My initial excitement had slipped away. My eyes seemed to be looking through a veil of neutrality. All was flat, — lost in an emptiness and nothingness. There was an all-pervading shade of grey. The mighty life force of the forest had, for the first time, failed to appeal to me.
Despite this lack of enthusiasm, excitement and intuition, there was a calm and sturdy conviction that the forest was bound to disclose itself. But it was not a superstitious yearning or a blind belief in this idea that drove me. It was an absolute and certain knowledge of the events that were to unfold, a pre-established faith in the feelings that the forest would awaken in the heart, and a flat timeless quietude in the mind. I felt prepared to immerse myself in the womb of the forest.
As the sun traversed the blue horizon and began to flood the forest with its golden light, the canopy opened out into vast, gentle meadows. Steeped in light, the grassland unfolded before our eyes, immersed in a body of absolute beauty. The tall dry grass softly brushed against a formidable herd of Indian Gaurs. Further ahead a grazing herd of Chital and Sambar deer jewelled the golden-hued, magic-infused meadows. In vain our lone jeep endeavoured not to mar the divinity around us. Amid all the rapturous magnificence that engulfed us, mere existence was bliss.
“A godlike packed intensity of sense
Made it a passionate pleasure even to breathe”
The forest, awakened from its stupendous trance, spoke with a mighty golden-white tranquillity that rendered the air fragrant with love and bliss. The stagnant trees we left behind now danced to the call of perfection — every curve and texture responding to the transcendent rhythm of a Supreme Entity. A vast celestial movement rising from the depths of the forest’s enclosed soul, perhaps unbeknownst to the forest itself. The trail that seemed to lead one nowhere, now hinted towards the grandeur that lay in wait. The emerald forest was ablaze with the cry of aspiration.
But ephemeral and short-lived, the hour of glory, too, had to fade. A trickle of silent murmur from unknown planes troubled the calm and marred the peace. The unheard rumble, distant and yet at hand, seeped through our impotent minds and hearts into the vast ocean of bliss that engulfed us. Time, incessantly coursing through its unshakeable path, hauled the end of the golden hour in its unsparing clasp.
The ears, too, now caught a distant murmur. The minds raised fretful questions, and hearts, casually letting go of the moment’s bliss, turned in excitement to the sordid calls that plucked at its strings. The gentle sun turned harsh and gaudy. There came an abrupt jolt to the body and a flash of storming jeeps, — the beautiful hour of fate had irrevocably slipped away.
The bewildering hunt for Maya was once again underway.
The soundless paws that braved the splendour they bore, the mystical stripes that crept unseen through the leaves, the glowing ember that set the forest’s silent heart ablaze, — Maya reigned supreme.
The tigress, codenamed T16, has ruled these lands for over a decade. Wise and graceful, she remains the sole enchantress of the ancient forest, hence the name, — Maya. Her very name emulates the power she holds and the resplendence that she is, and it was in search of her that jeep after jeep tore across the dirt track.
Maya had apparently been sighted on the western periphery of the forest, close to the Tadoba Lake. Despite knowing well the enigma that Maya was, I sat disheartened, reminiscing the visuals of the divine moment we left behind, wishing only to be amid the golden meadows once again.
As we continued on our way towards the Lake, there flashed through the clouds of dust an array of red lights, ensued shortly by an abrupt halt. Anxious murmurs arose, and eager heads began to peer out of their jeeps. The dust began to settle, and slowly the mystery, too, unravelled itself. There appeared through the fading clouds another pack of jeeps in the distance, slowly coming our way. But before them, leading the way, was Maya. The queen, grand as can be, walked down her palatial corridor, tailing a convoy of meagre humans.
The revered tigress, the emanation of strength and perfection in form, had presented herself before us, and one could only remain transfixed in awe. Faced with Nature’s most lavish creation, we sat still, abased by her enigma. Once again, all the magic poured in. Her stripes set our eyes ablaze, and her gaze kindled our feeble hearts. Her paws left imprints of her splendour on the sand, embedding the magnificence they bore. She was beauty unconstrained. She was strength concealed within wisdom and poise. Hers was a breath of majesty, and hers an air of graceful pride. Her coat glistening golden and her every movement distilling perfection, she had indeed set the forest ablaze. She was unlike anything I had ever encountered in the wilderness, for she carried within her lone self all that the forest was.
But once again, ephemeral and short-lived, this glorious moment, too, had to fade. Caused by a sudden animal impulse, there emerged a mindless agitation, masking the moment’s beauty. Strangely, it was not Maya who was subject to these impulses, but us. Nature’s most developed beings, evolution’s highest creations thus far, — it was the humans who fell prey to the brutish vibrations. Excited jeering arose alongside a chaotic hustle to get a glimpse of the tigress. The air quivered from all the noise. As the voices cried out loud and jeeps jostled for position, it was as though we humans had momentarily taken a step backwards in our evolution. The sheer unappreciation for the beauty that moved before us was eminent. Amid all the cacophony, Maya had remained entirely unperturbed. She effortlessly maintained her grandiose stature, but to no avail, for all of it was masked and concealed by the ruckus all around. All radiance and ecstasy had once again fled the scene. Dejection settled upon my heart once more, and confusion and emptiness once more occupied the mind space.
I had been so engrossed in simply absorbing Maya and her resplendence that I had forgotten to get on with my first order of business, — photographing her!
But now, with all the rapture drained out, I could not but proceed lifelessly. The passion for taking meaningful pictures had receded, and I felt no joy whatsoever in doing so. What ensued was a blind-eyed analysis of the lighting conditions, a disinterested adjustment of camera settings, and a series of uninspired images. I had expected nothing more. There was no creative endeavour attempted whatsoever.
In any case, the chaos around Maya lasted a while longer until she walked off the track and into the thickets. A cloud of grief now loomed over and followed me for the next few days. Afterall, how often does one get to experience the forest in its fullness, let alone the magical enchantment of a tigress like Maya? And to have it all abruptly cut short is disheartening indeed.
I had felt at the time that memories of momentary experiences would be the sole takeaways from the trip, and that these, too, with the lapse of time would fade away. But upon returning to Pondicherry, while going through the set of ordinary images, I encountered one single frame that stood out. The image instantly sent my heart back to the forest, re-evoking Maya’s living presence. With a miraculous stroke of chance, I had managed to capture her in all her splendour. I don’t just feel, but know it with an innate conviction, that I have been able to bring out and showcase Maya in her true reality as far as I understand it, — that of a refined vitality; one that carries an elevated grace, majesty, wisdom and beauty, while retaining a pure and powerful strength at the core. With her powerful gaze fixed towards the camera, and the beam of light perfectly caressing her gleaming coat, Maya now remains with me through this picture, albeit an uninspired creation.
Photo by Arunaditya Dass
Photo by Arunaditya Dass
Photo by Arunaditya Dass
Photo by Arunaditya Dass
Photo by Arunaditya Dass