The Hindu Business Line : The lady & her tigers

ULLAS Karanth, in his book A View from the Machan, describes a naturalist as "someone who loves to observe wild creatures, never tiring of it" and elaborates, "the few who manage to keep the fascination for nature alive throughout their lives are the ones that I call `naturalists' - as opposed to `environmentalists,' `activists' or even `biologists,' for whom conservation may just be another nine-to-five job."

Journalists doing the forest beat are absent for Ullas though Prerna Singh Bindra writing for Pioneer and Darpan should make it as a naturalist. I have not met her though have heard my friend Kishor Rithe often make a favourable mention. She has trekked a few of the tiger sanctuaries in search of rainbows in the forests and her book, The King and I; Travels in Tigerland, is about her walks.

Tigers in Sariska and other wildlife reserves morphing into dancing robes for Tibetans have made it to the front pages of newspapers and primetime news bulletins of TV channels in 2005. In that sense, the book is well timed as it could sensitise a thin spread of young and old towards this decent animal aptly described by John Seidensticker as: "Always secretive/Never devious/Always a killer/Never a murderer/Solitary/Never alone."

Experts may look askance at this rendering by Prerna but for amateurs (like this writer) it is a fine fit. Ranthambhore is the starting point for most tiger enthusiasts and Prerna begins with the fabulous beast, Bumbooram, sighted by the US President Bill Clinton in March 2000. "Bumbooram is my tiger on the wall, the most beautiful animal I never saw. He had his brush with fame when he was alive but it was in his death that he became immortal. He lives in the hearts of those who crossed his regal path. He continues to trouble our collective conscience, a constant reminder of our failure to preserve his kith and kin, of our brutality as a race that we reduce this feline to a rug on the floor and his bones into a pill to boost impotent souls." The tone is set.

Prerna is possibly at her best dwelling on Palamau in Jharkhand and Manas touching Bhutan. One female tigress lives in the tourist zone of Betla in Palamau because its home has been torn up and extremists roam the area.

Tigers were pests for the district gazetteer of the late 19th century and the reward for removing pests was Rs 25 for a tiger and Rs 5 for a leopard.

There was a brisk trade in live tiger cubs and Balakrishna Sheshadri mentions in his book, The Twilight of India's Wildlife of a batch of five cubs sold at a mere Rs 15 a piece at the Daltonganj Court, the town which today houses the headquarters of the Palamau Tiger Reserve.

At Betla, the lady comes across Mohammed Umar, the Tiger Reporter, on the rolls of the forest department to track the tigress. "His day starts at 4 a.m., and long after the sun has set, he scouts for pugmarks, scats, sports, scratches and any other sign of the lone tigress. His work is dangerous, patrolling the forest, day and night, alone with only a lathi for protection. Worrisome though they are, Naxals are far from Umar's mind; he is worried about the curious predicament of the single tigress... As if on cue, I hear a faint call, aaouumm... . Continual. ... There is no echo of my delight in Mohammed; he sinks further into despair, enveloped into a grief so private and profound that it is scary. `Don't you understand, Rani is calling for a mate.' He hears her desolate call, night after night. Rani is nearly seven, if nature had her way, she could well be ready for her third litter now." This was in 2004.

In 2005, Prerna visits the park again. Mohammed Umar is no more. He died in the forest. It took one some time to read on. One tigress, Rani and no forest guard. Manas is a story of trigger-happy poachers and terrorists "fiercely protecting the sanctuary " after the 2003 settlement for the creation of Bodoland.

Three big cats - tiger, leopard and the elusive Clouded leopard - are found in Manas. In 2005, Prerna made it to Manas where for over two decades extremists ruled.

Babulal Oraon, a forest guard, reminds the reader of the days when militants killed every moving thing in the park. Rhinos and tuskers were knocked off. But now there is normalcy and one can spot a rhino.

Budhesar Bora, "a diminutive man packed in a wiry frame," has given up killing. Earlier, no tusker could pass Bora by without being shot dead. "One shot from the gaazimara, the Bodo name for the locally produced gun, and the mighty giant would have toppled. His tusks would have been chopped off and sold across the border in Bhutan at Rs 3,300 per kg.

Killing the elephant comes easy to Budhesar who admits to slaughtering 80 elephants. He bagged two tigers; of deer he has lost count. The prize though was Kurusu or the Greater One-horned Rhinoceros," Prerna says. The horn fetched Budhesar Rs 1.7 lakh.

Forests and its animals have become big business; there is a price for every gunshot.

For naturalists, in a minority, they are precious living beings to be left alone. Thanks Prerna for the book.