The Hindu Business Line : Dance show fails to impress

"Jungle mein mor nacha, kisne dekha (Who saw the peacock dance in the forest?)," goes a popular Hindi film song. We can reply, "Hamne dekha (We saw it)." Driving round the Pench National Park (Maharashtra and Madhya Pradesh) on a bright early evening Paul spotted a peacock with its train of feathers spread out half-vertically like a Japanese hand-fan trying to woo two females. It wiggled its light brown posterior as we moved towards the bird from behind. The females were not bothered moving off the forest track as the male quietly folded his train. At a second spot, we saw upfront the male peacock dance trying to impress some four peahens, who again cynically passed by. We in the open Gypsy were impressed but not the ladies.

In technical terms, the peacock is called the common peafowl (Pavo cristatus) and Dr Salim Ali puts it better when he writes: "The gorgeous oscillated (eyelike and ringed) tail of the adult cock, one to 1.5 metres long, is in reality the abnormally lengthened upper tail coverts. Hen, also crested like cock, but smaller. ... .polygamous, usually parties of one cock with four or five hens; cock displays before his bevy of hens erecting and fanning out his showy train, and strutting and posturing to the accompaniment of paroxysms of quivering."

One saw them fly from one medium-sized tree to another, though the flight, like its hoarse call, has little style. At Tadoba and Pench, it rained late in the night, and at Tadoba, the crinum lily, white in colour, had come to life on the forest floor. It comes and goes with the rains. On par with the dance show of the peacock was the viewing of the small and slim, greyish brown Scops owl (Otus scops), looking out from a hole in a dhava tree. We would have missed the Scops owl as it had become a part of the tree and was sitting still.

Our guide, Amar Singh Narati, a trained bird watcher, identified the owl. He helped us see the honey buzzard, sitting on the ground, teased to distraction by a few yellow-wattled lapwings; probably, the buzzard had sighted the ground nest with the chicks of the lapwings and was keen on a meal. That was not to be as the buzzard had to give way.

The crested hawk eagle is my favourite raptor, as one is quite sure of identifying the bird and this one was sitting on a bare branch with a couple of drangos trying to pass it; a slight wind was blowing at its crest; after a couple of minutes the raptor took off into the deep forests. Seemingly, the crested serpent eagle is quite numerous in these areas like the Indian rollers and common grey hornbills.

On an afternoon, it was amusing to note one roller taking off vertically into the sky and falling down in a straight line; a second Indian roller followed our Gypsy at Panderpauni in Tadoba; we halted the Gypsy and the bird took residence on a wooden pole some 10 ft away from us. At the end of it all, one spent some time watching the goings on in a crow's nest on a peepal tree from the veranda of a spacious PWD guesthouse in Khawas, on the Seoni road in Madhya Pradesh. One could not spot the chicks, which were being regularly fed by their parents. A Muslim family treated us to some fine roti, sabji, dal and rice papads for lunch and dinner.

After lunch, Giri invited six-year-old Faiz and his sister Israat for a trip into the forest. Their parents allowed Faiz to go with us but not Israat, who gazed longingly as we drove away.

The disappointment quickly died away on the little girl, Israat; she will be waiting for the next touch of luck, if that ever happens to women in this blessed country called India. With a smile, Israat welcomed us in the evening and lovingly tugged at her brother Faiz when he got off the Gypsy with three packets of Lays potato chips.

When the lights went off in the evening, Israat, dressed in a pink salwar-kameez, gave us light with a lighted candle. For Faiz, it was the first forest visit and one pointed at a common langur when he promptly replied in Hindi: "Ye tho mere ghar ke pass rahta hai. Humlog isko khilate hain (common langurs stay near our house and we feed them)."

That trip was a dry run and outside the Park in Pench (Madhya Pradesh), Paul spotted a fox at a distance of some 30 ft. The fox moved along with us, keeping the safe distance, when Faiz broke out in Hindi, "Ye tho lomadi hai (It is a fox)." Faiz was unhappy not being able to see a tiger. "Jungle mein bagh nahin hai (There is no tiger in the jungle)," he remarked.

For Faiz, Israat and their generation, tigers may exist in the past tense in schoolbooks as chances of the animal living in peace in the forests are diminishing by the day.

Like it or not, the country may have just about 1,000 tigers in all the parks put together. Is her time up? An essay in the June 2007 issue of Sanctuary asks: Quo vadis Panthera tigris?

In the 1970s, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi banned tiger hunting and started Project Tiger.

"The tiger's brief moment in the sun turned to night in the early 1990s, as international poaching syndicates turned their attention to the tigers of the subcontinent. ... .Project Tiger stands de-fanged. Its leadership has faltered. Its political support has virtually vanished," says the essay.

If tigers go, there will be no peacocks and owls, teak trees and crinum lily.

P. Devarajan

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