The King & I

Atop Sita Mandap, we stopped the open jeep in a welcome patch of sun and laid out breakfast on the back seats as the weak winter rays thawed my frozen nose at a painfully slow simmer. Our guide had a warm enthusiasm about him as he proceeded to pour steaming water into the coffee press. The ground beans imparted that glorious aroma. And just as I held my cup out longingly, my guide’s face contorted. Was he an aficionado of the bean? Had I not waited for the coffee to stand long enough? Hesitantly, I edged my cup closer towards him. This time around, his head cocked, his eyes locked to the side, he sternly lifted his hand. I immediately withdrew my cup. “It’s right here,” he whispered, “below the mandap.”

Before we could ask what he was talking about, there was a thunderous roar that tore through the jungle. The King had woken up and smelt the coffee.

Every animal in the jungle gave off various alarm calls in chorus, though one would think that the tiger’s roar was warning enough. Our guide swiftly dived into the front seat, leaving the hot coffee press between my feet and all our breakfast deftly piled up on my lap. “Hold on tight, buddy,” he yelled, and swung the jeep around 360 degrees and sped off.

Now that all hell had broken loose, coffee was the last thing on my mind. To be honest, balancing this banquet as we ripped through the dusty jungle trail was as stressful as the roar I had heard a minute earlier.

Now, I felt like joining in and screeching with all the other animals as well.

Switching from our jeep to Nature’s 4X4, an elephant, we traversed the tall grass towards where the tiger had been spotted. I’ve been fortunate enough to have seen tigers in the wild on many occasions. Yet, every time I see this magnificent animal, I am reminded why the tiger is, indeed, the King. As our elephant turned around a dense frond of bamboo, we stopped abruptly. There, as the light dappled through the leaves, a tigress sat and watched us. Her winestained chin hinted that she had been indulging in a kill. But for now, she seemed content licking her chops and watching as we gaped at her like idiots from just 10 feet away.

I’m not sure how long we watched her, or, rather, how long she permitted us to do so. I remember thinking many things in that brief time. What animal could even remotely compare with a tiger’s exquisitely perfect design? Would my children ever get a chance to see this magnificent creation in the wild? And then, I thought, whatever happened to that coffee in the jeep?

Useful information: Mahua Kothi is an intimate, tasteful and highly professional set-up that is a combined effort of CC Africa (the renowned safari guys from South Africa) and the Taj Group. It offers spectacular services and has highly qualified naturalists who furnish a detailed overview of the sanctuary. Winter is the coolest season and the best time to visit. Summer is boiling hot but sighting tigers during this time is almost a surety. Visit www.tajsafaris.com for booking.

That’s when the tigress turned at us and snarled. Not like an alley cat snarls and spits—this was more of a subtle hiss as she bared her canines that were the size of my fingers. Respectfully, our Elephas Maximas 4X4 backed up. Satisfied, she turned back and stuck her head into the thick growth pulling out a fresh, massive chunk of flesh of a species of genus unknown. Oh man, it was the most beautiful, primo piece of steak I had ever seen. Ravenous, I headed back to the jeep. As the sun set and the jungle seemed to wake, we exited the gates of Bandhavgarh National Park towards our luxurious abode at Mahua Kothi.

It takes a while to digest that you are actually in Tiger Country. That even after you leave the park, the tiger sightings may not be over.

I wouldn’t say this if we didn’t hear them outside Mahua Kothi. But what makes the experience even more special is when you speak to the locals who have lived here all their lives. Out here, everyone has a “tiger story”. And it’s not to impress outsiders.

It’s actually casual conversation on their everyday lives. As I entered my toasty room, I switched off the lights and enjoyed the candle light lick the darkness. I immersed myself in the pre-prepared steaming, fragrant tub and watched the shadows dramatically dancing on the wall of my kothi. I recalled all the jeeps carrying people around the sanctuary in search of the King. And as I thought about it, it seemed strange.

Why do people go rushing around the jungle to see animals? Is it because we are trying to hold onto something that we fear will not be around in the future? Are we trying to go back to our roots to figure out where we came from?

What is this madness that obsesses us to watch animals as they go about eating, drinking, sleeping and, as a bonus, a little copulating for good measure?

Are we the official voyeurs of the animal kingdom?

And as I pondered over this, I looked out of the window of my kothi and I saw a Mottled Wood Owl on the tree outside my courtyard watching me. As I sipped my wine and scanned my torchlight over the field, I caught the glint of four chital eyes staring directly at me. Some creature bolted off the path as I walked to dinner. On my way back, may be it was the excessive wine, but I just felt that that the King was watching me. I flopped down on my heated blanket and the last thought I had before fading into Neverland was this: despite the jeeps and our voyeuristic obsession, I wonder who is really watching who?