Losing and finding connection on the trail of leopards in Maharashtra

By Richa Tilokani

6.55 pm, April 13, 2023. As the sun set down on the Tadoba Andhari Tiger Reserve, the oldest and largest national park in the Chandrapur district of Maharashtra, the woods came alive with the sounds of predators and prey going about their nocturnal routine. A blanket of rugged darkness enveloped the region as insects and birds chittered away, their rhythmic buzz punctuated by periodic grunts, growls and snarls.

Wikipedia had informed us that the southern tropical dry deciduous forest named after the tribal god Tadoba or Tadu was spread over 1727 sq km. The Tadoba National Park was created in 1995 and merged with the Andhari wildlife reserve to create the current tiger reserve with rolling hills and picturesque water bodies.

“Are we sure we want to do this, guys?” I whispered as we stood outside the Junona Safari Gate.

I glanced sideways to find a similar look of terror on my son’s face. “Do you know phones are allowed in the night safari but I have almost no connection?” He waved his phone around as proof, his brows furrowed.

Husband shrugged at us. “You guys are always complaining that we need more adventure, more fun in life. Well, let’s do this.” And then turned towards me with raised eyebrows.  

My eyes narrowed, scared of the dark as I was. “It’s literally a jungle out there,” I joked weakly.

“If it was not safe, we would not be allowed in. Hey, did you know safari means journey in Swahili?”

With no other option, we clambered onto an open weather-beaten jeep, its dark green paint peeling, with me in the middle seat and he joining son in the backseat.

Shortly, our driver and guide Aakash joined us and our jeep followed a convoy of four or five cars into the forest.

Searching and searching

Son still had a poor connection but Aakash informed him he could use the phone to take pictures.

“Just don’t use flash and no stepping out,” he added as the vintage jeep plodded on.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, the dense vegetation came into focus, casting long shadows onto the path. The thick bushes, dry branches, gnarly creepers and dangling stems fused together to create a strange, unfathomable monolith on each side. Inhaling deeply, I picked up the scent of eucalyptus but my breath caught in the throat as the other jeeps turned into different directions at the first intersection, leaving a trail of dusty clouds in their wake. 

Coughs all around.

Amidst this, Aakash said. “We will focus on sighting the elusive Junona leopard today.”

My heart had never raced this fast as it did at this announcement. Never in my wildest dream had I imagined I would be hot on the heels of one of the most dangerous predators known to mankind, but here we were, gleefully barrelling towards it.

“Isn’t that umm… dangerous?”

“No worries, he usually goes after smaller prey like dogs, hens or cattle, madam.”

“Luckily, that rules me out.” Silence. No one contradicted me and I made a mental note to hit the gym once we were back.

Suddenly, a twig cracked followed by a snarl.

“Thamb,” Aakash commanded the driver to stop in Marathi, and shone his torchlight into the brush. A wild hare jumped out into the clearing and I heaved a sigh of relief, as the others sighed in disappointment. This was turning into a hare-raising adventure.

“Mom, look, Mars.”

“Is that the leopard’s name?”

“No, look at the sky.” 

I glanced up and witnessed a stunning spectacle. The inky blue sky was studded with hundreds of thousands of glittering stars. And a red planet shone right above us, next to the smattering of grey clouds; just then a number of fireflies chose to make an appearance and made the experience surreal.  

Discovering old connections  

As we drove ahead, the thick bamboo and teak wood trees thinned and a wire-fenced log-hut came into view. Aakash shared that the single-storey structure was built by forest officials to guard against poaching and deforestation, while its first floor was offered to tourists looking for an authentic experience.

“It is completely fenced in to avoid animal attacks, which are a reality for them and the residents of the Devada village. It is a small group of families who continue to live between the core and the buffer zone.”

“It sounds dangerous but it’s good the locals have not been driven out of their ancestral lands,” husband remarked softly. “A sustainable approach that balances the interests of all the members of the ecosystem is the only solution.”

We nodded and moved on to the next village on the trail, Avegaon, where the reclusive leopard had last been sighted. We stared at the small clutch of homes as dogs barked in the distance.

“He is here,” Aakash whispered. “This is why the dogs are restless. Let’s go to the spot where he usually sits.”

Our driver complied by switching off the headlights and we inched towards the spot – a raised platform heavily overrun by dense tall bushes and gnarly roots with bottle green darkness all around.

We waited in silence, hardly able to breathe. A sudden crunch of dry leaves. Swivelling our necks, we stared into the sea of blackness till the torchlight came on.

“It is only a wild boar,” my husband declared as the feisty animal trotted out and strolled away.

Where is the shy, spotted beast? Even I was looking forward to the sighting now.

We waited and drove around, staring at every tree, bush and branch in the vicinity but the leopard was nowhere to be seen. Sightings are a matter of chance and perhaps it was not our day.

Finally, we ran out of time, thanked Aakash and headed back, past the huge rice fields lining the dark, narrow road – mildly disappointed but in good spirits.

Making a new connection

As we drove back, husband asked, “So what if we missed sighting the leopard, overall, was it not a great experience?”

Son, deep into his phone by then, nodded, “Yeah. Hey, my connection is finally restored.”

Mine still had no service, but somehow I had found the connection I needed. My eyes met his and I smiled, “It was. Dhanya-vagh for egging me on.” (Vagh is tiger in Marathi.) It had helped me forget, albeit for a few hours, about the worries and challenges of daily life.

Perhaps, the leopard saw us – and that is almost the same thing. And hey, we did startle a wild hare, a boar and some noisy birds so that counts for something.

That night when I closed my eyes in bed, the familiar scent of the jungle washed over me connecting me to its wild, pristine heart. Truly, I had never felt so aware and so immersed in nature than in the heart of the reserve. It had almost been a meditative experience.

Leopards can’t change their spots but thankfully we can. I’m still scared of the dark but now I know, if need be, I can face it. It will be difficult but worth it. Like the night safari.  

Yes, it is a jungle out there but the only way out is through it.

Richa Tilokani is a Chennai-based marketing, communication and advertising professional. Her first book The Teachings of Bhagavad Gita: Timeless Wisdom for the Modern Age was published in April 2021.