Concrete Jungle

Our tiger trail began from Hotel Tungareshwar, perched on the edge of the great jungle, a few kilometres from Vasai station in suburban Mumbai. As we sat there chatting with the local tribals, it became clear that pattewala wagh (striped cat or tiger) was the big new topic of discussion at this quaint forest inn, next to the 400-year-old Tungareshwar temple. It is believed that the Peshwas would visit the temple before embarking on a tiger-hunting expedition in the forest.

We had to head to the top of the 2,200 feet-high Tungareshwar hill. The gruelling (for us) three-hour climb was interrupted with interesting encounters with langoors, a mongoose, a snake, and of course lots of hardy tribals who claimed they had spotted the cat.

‘‘Most of us have seen the pattewala wagh, though I have only seen the panthers in this jungle. But I would love to see a tiger,’’ said Tukaram Panduvadhan as he pointed to a patch of soft ground where panther pugmarks have often been found in the past.

As we went deeper and higher into the jungle, even the pot-holed city roads that we curse now seemed like a distant luxury. All our efforts were concentrated on our next step.

The urban forest offered all kinds of sights. Like the autorickshaw we suddenly came upon, prettily parked in the dense jungle. Its driver had used the kuccha pathway to climb to this vantage spot. He was not to be seen, but the three-wheeler had a poster-sized panther stuck on its rear window! Was the missing auto driver a genuine wildlife enthusiast taking time-out in the middle of nowhere, we wondered.

A tiny tribal hamlet, made up of just three huts and lost of hens and chicks was an interesting stopover. ‘‘These tribals must have chicken every night for dinner!’’ was a thought that crossed my mind, as a wide-eyed old lady, Bishiteer, informed me how scared they were to venture out after sunset. ‘‘The wagh is a big worry for us, as we earn our livelihood by collecting forest wood and poultry farming.’’

So where was that wagh, and how come we still couldn’t spot it? ‘‘Tigers sleep in the afternoon, don’t you know that?’’ she chided with a smile.

On top of the forest was the ashram of Balayogi Shri Sadanand Maharaj, who has lived there for over 30 years. Of course he’s seen the tiger at night, he says, but he’s not afraid of any jungle creature. Over ten hours in the jungle, we met dozens of tribals, all of whom claimed to have seen the wagh. Everyone, that is, except us.

As the sun came down, the jungle seemed to wake up. Even the slightest sound was magnified three-fold. Grazing cattle and sheep hurried back to their homes, and the hamlets prepared to retire.

The tiger, on the other hand, was getting ready to start his day.