Watching nature come alive in the little-known Nagzira Wildlife Sanctuary near Nagpur

Though my commute to the park wasn’t half as treacherous as Jai’s — who had to cross villages and highways on his journey — my vehicle of choice, a battery-operated electric rickshaw, jolted its way through the forest-fringed road that led towards my stay. The rain gods chose to reward my back-bruising ride with a sudden spell of rain, alleviating my weariness. Many might find little joy in a jungle soaked to its soil, as one is less likely to spot animals. I, however, wasn’t one to sulk, relishing the sights and sounds of a forest freshly rinsed.

I arrived on a Monday, a day when tourists in the park are fewer than on the weekends. But little did I expect mine to be the only gypsy doing the rounds that day! By the time my safari began, the rains had abated; the jungles were bursting with birdlife: a band of White-bellied drongos blitzed through the upper reaches of the forest. Their more flamboyant cousins — the Racquet-tailed Drongos — flaunted their spindle-shaped feathers hanging fashionably from their tails. The throaty cackles of the Rufous tree-pies filled the air. A pair of Collared-scops owls were cooped up inside a cavity, blending seamlessly into the beige-brown bark of the tree. To wax lyrical about the avian riches of a tiger reserve might seem digressive, but it would be remiss to not mention these creatures for the colourful company they kept us.

My wait continued until the next safari when a troop of langurs screeched their displeasure at the sight of a feline in the depths of the forest, deeper than our eyes could penetrate. I was convinced that a tiger was afoot — the calls betrayed none of the panic that the langurs are known to display when their dreaded nemesis, the leopard, is on the prowl. We had little to do but to wait for the drama to unravel. Half an hour elapsed before the cat finally began to make a move. Before we knew it, an entire herd of sambhar were hollering their alarm calls in tandem. The fluctuating intensity of the calls told us that the cat was heading towards a clearing, and so we wasted no time in repositioning our Gypsy — to obtain a view. The driver was the first to catch sight of the feline and pointed out its location — but no matter how industriously I strained my eyes, I couldn’t discern a single stripe.

Miraculously, only a few seconds later, a portion of the undergrowth began to twitch and — as if by magic — metamorphosed into the form of a leopard. Its coat had been the perfect foil, but I was partly responsible for this oversight. All this while, I had been searching for a coat of stripes. The bearer of these spots — a brawny male leopard — lay sprawled on the forest floor, before rising clear of the undergrowth and disappearing into the forest, as if denying us a share of something sacred.

Luckily, this wasn’t to be our final rendezvous. Our driver had anticipated where he was likely to reemerge. And sure enough he did, with — lo and behold — a leopardess in tow! The leopardess seemed to have consented to the courtship. What followed could best be described as a swift, snarly consummation, sans the subtleties of love-making. Leopards are known to be wary creatures and to have witnessed a mating pair in full view of camera-wielding tourists was a resounding testimony to the flourishing forests of Nagzira.

As I bid adieu to this feline couple, I felt even more sympathetic to the tiger Jai. He had never returned, but I hoped that I would.

Indranil Datta is a Kolkata-based writer