It’s 7 pm and an eerie silence surrounds the lush cotton fields in the villages of Rajula taluka in Amreli district of Gujarat. The hamlets are pitch-dark, with people huddled inside their homes to avoid the cool winter breeze. As the villagers get ready to go to bed, Raju Dhakhada, 25, and Kishor Dhakhada, 21, begin their day. The two cousins from Bhachdar village get on to their bikes and ride to railway crossing no. 13 near Bherai village. For the next 12 hours, the two have to keep an eye out for any lion walking near the three-kilometre stretch of track between crossing no.s 12 and 13, both unmanned. It was along this stretch that three Asiatic lions were mowed down by goods trains between and January and May this year. Asiatic lions are endangered, and found only in the Gir National Park and Wildlife Sanctuary, or surrounding villages in Junagadh, Gir Somnath, Amreli and Bhavnagar districts. So in March, the Gujarat forest department hired 16 “ railway trackers” to monitor lion movement and alert the Railways if they saw a big cat coming too close to the track. The trackers were recruited from villages near the tracks — some as contract workers, others as daily wagers. Raju, a sociology graduate, had to give an interview for the job. Hired on an 11-month contract, he now proudly sports a khaki uniform. Kishor, a Class XII pass, was only hired as a daily wager. Raju earns Rs 6,920 a month, Kishor Rs 5,443. The two men park their bikes near crossing no. 13 and cover the stretch on foot, with only batons as weapon. Men from surrounding villagers pass by, and stop to talk with them. As it gets cold, Raju and Kishor fling their blankets over their shoulders. Carrying water, they now walk in the middle of the track and tap the sleepers with their batons. The trains have no schedule, as the broad gauge railway line that runs from Pipavav port to Savarkundla railway station is privately operated (by Pipavav Railway Corporation Limited). There is no lion in sight so far. They’ve barely walked a few hundred metres when Mulu Vaghela, a farm labourer, climbs up to the tracks. “How are you, Rajubhai?” asks Vaghela, who is chasing his goat back to his hut. “Fine. Are there any lions around?” the tracker asks. “No, I have not seen them for three days,” the farm labourer says. In his last 10 months as a tracker, Raju admits, he has spotted “only 10 lions”. A kilometre south of crossing no. 13 is the watchtower — an elevated platform made of jowar stalks and supported by four wooden pillars. It’s going to be a long night, so the cousins make their 10-feet-tall watchtower more comfortable by laying more hay on it. In the next two hours, some trains whiz past. At the sound of the whistle of any approaching train, Raju flashes his torch in all directions to check for any moving creature. It’s 9.30 pm, and the winds are fiercer, but Raju won’t erect any barrier on his jowar platform. “The winds bother me, but a barrier would block the view, and lions can come from any direction,” he says, putting on his jacket and readying for another round of the track. Across fields, farmers keep vigil outside their huts, looking out for nilgais and other wild animals to prevent them from destroying their crops. After a couple of rounds, Raju stops at the hut of Arjan Ram, one of the farmers still awake, for a cup of tea and some hearty laughs. At 11.30 pm, Raju and Kishor are back at crossing no. 13. Two of their friends are hanging around. Along with them, the trackers walk on the railway line and converse generally about farmers, mobile phones, and movies. At 1 am, the cousins are back at the watchtower, and they now take turns for a nap. As Kishor dozes off, Raju kills time watching a video on his mobile phone. Raju is alerted by a sound coming from a distance at around 1.30 am. “That is the roar of a lion from Ghogham!” he exclaims, seizing his torch and focusing it at where the sound is coming from. Finding no sign of a lion, he rings up fellow trackers near Uchaiya village. They too have not spotted any lion. “I don’t sleep the night I notice lions crossing the track from Ghogham, a wooded area where one lion and two lionesses live, east of my village,” says Raju, rubbing his palms to warm them. It’s 2 am and the wind is at its chilliest. A train now passes by almost every hour. At the sound of an engine, Raju flashes his torch again. “If I spot lions moving within 100 metres of the tracks, I call up the station master at the Savarkundla railway station, who in turn contacts the loco pilot. I shoo away the lion and once the pilot stops the train, I tell him what happened,” Raju says. Raju, who belongs to a family of farmers, says he gave up his “better-paying job” of an electrician at Pipavav port to become a tracker for his “love of lions”. “My day is made when I spot lions near the track and ensure smooth passage for the animal and the train. I had to stop a train three months ago when three nilgais were killed by a train,” says Raju. His “most unforgettable” moment was in May, when a cub was overrun by a train. “After the accident, the mother lioness would return to the same spot every night for a week calling out to her missing cub,” he says. It’s 3 am, and his turn to take a nap. He wakes up Kishor, and then sleeps till 5 am. Once he is up, he makes another round of the track before returning home at 7 am. His mother serves him tea, chapatis and mango pickle for breakfast. He then logs onto the Internet looking for Gujarat government jobs. Much as he loves being a lion tracker, he knows he could have to move soon as his contract with the Gujarat forest department is nearing end. One of the jobs he has applied for is in the Gujarat Police. At 1 pm finally, he hits the bed for a three-hour-long sleep.
