The tiger was approaching

My first trip to Ranthambhore was probably the most exciting moment of my life. I never realised then how it would change my life forever.

My first trip to Ranthambhore was probably the most exciting moment of my life. I never realised then how it would change my life forever. Thirty-five years ago,I remember speeding away and leaving the one-horse town of Sawai Madhopur in the distance. And then,another world opened up.

Leaving the town,we followed a narrow road running parallel to a range of hills,and after several kilometres,turned off onto a dirt track; but still,there were few indications of what lay ahead,be it forest or wildlife. The road then turned sharply,and suddenly we were skimming along the rim of a deep ravine,bouncing and jolting over the stony track. All of a sudden,the view changed. Below a sheer rocky cliff stood an ancient but massive stone gate that must have once been flanked by fortress walls,which had long since crumbled. It was the royal entrance to Ranthambhore,which had been constructed to protect the domain of kings and is surviving today to protect a treasure of equal if not greater value. Water flowed through the gate through a marble cows head,forming a pool at the entrance. Beyond the gate,the air cooled down,the vegetation thickened,and the sounds changed. The chatter of birds mixed incongruously with the groan of the jeep. Cresting a rise,we saw the incredible sight of the Ranthambhore Fort,grey and looming,extending upwards from a steep cliff face. The sky was a clear blue,the forest a dull green. The huge walls glinted in the sunlight,glancing at the world around as if man had decided to chisel a bit of nature,the upper fringe of the rock,rather than disturb or fight it. It took my breath away then and takes it away each time I pass it.

We were close to our destination. I tried to look around me,straining to see through the trees for signs of life,but my eyes were not yet accustomed to seeing in the forest. It is a skill not easy to come by. I could see old peepal trees and large banyans as we wound our way below the massive fort. As we crossed the last rise,the terrain changed dramatically. The steep hills gave way to a broad valley,dotted with low hills and large expanses of water,the largest of them clothed almost entirely in giant pink and white lotuses. It was the pink of innumerable folk paintings,a pink that I had never before believed possible. It was too much to assimilate all at once,the mix of history,man,and nature.

As we branched off the road,I thought that we were plunging straight into the largest banyan tree I had ever seen. Two of its hundreds of roots formed a natural gateway to Jogi Mahal,the forest rest house,which,decades ago,had been the residence of a temple priest. Before Prahlad,the driver,could even stop,I was rushing up the steps across a wide terrace and through a high arched doorway. There,at my feet,lay the lake of lotuses,Padam Talao,with its waters lapping peacefully against the base of the rest house. In the distance,crocodiles lay sunbathing,one with its jaws open,another swimming lazily in the water. Many deer were grazing on the lush grass along the far banks of the lakes a few big deer were even immersed in the water sambar,I think. What a sight! Many varieties of birds were pecking in the shallow waters and far across on top of a hill sat an ancient guard post. Turning around,I looked back at the way I had come. The vast banyan tree and the backdrop of the fort filled the horizon with their imposing presence. What beauty! It was a moment of hypnotic intensity.

And it was on the last day of this trip,having searched every corner of the park,that I had the most amazing encounter. Late in the evening I heard how a tiger had killed a buffalo and I rushed off to see it. It was about 9 pm and near the road I saw a leopard feeding on the buffalo! Where was the tiger? Was it so shy? I watched the leopard while it fed nervously,looking over its shoulder every few seconds. Then the silence of the evening was shattered by the booming alarm call of the sambar deer the tiger was approaching. The leopard glided away and went off to climb a large banyan tree where he curled up on a branch and watched the carcass below. I waited for an hour but the tiger never came.

I left the leopard watching the tigers kill and drove off in total delight. What a scene to witness. It was on the way back that the driver shouted,Tiger,and in the pitch darkness of that night I saw my first Ranthambhore tiger framed in the jeep headlights. The scene is still vivid in my memory and I dont know how long I sat totally mesmerised by the beauty of the moment. Some time later I was joined by the park director,Fateh Singh Rathore,who would slowly become my tiger guru.

Seeing tigers in Ranthambhore 35 years ago was really difficult and we tried to inch closer and follow the tiger as it edged off to the lakeside. With Fateh at the wheel negotiating the terrain in darkness,we ended up getting stuck in the shallow waters of the lake. Water lapped the edges of the jeep and I could see the tiger peering out at us from behind a rock!

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This was my first encounter with a Ranthambhore tiger. While we waited for another jeep to pull us out of the lake,I knew it was the beginning of what would become my lifelong engagement with the tiger.