Tiger = Maya

From the moment we head towards the forests begins the excitement of seeking an elusive pleasure, seeing the predator, the king of that particular jungle. There could be a myriad of other animals, easy to spot, but it is that shy tiger, leopard, or lion that has our whole heart. Always, our heart seeks that which is not easily available. We run after money, jewels, fancy cars, or other luxury items, seeking validation for our existence in these material things. Similarly, as a visitor to the jungles, our heart seeks only a glimpse of the tiger to make us feel the trip was a success.

We go up and down the jungle path, on the periphery allowed for human movement, scanning the bushes on the side for even a shadowy sighting of the predator. Any pugmark of the animal sighted on the floor has us excited and eager to run in the possible direction the animal has gone, hoping to see it drinking water or resting. "There, there! I think I see something," someone in the jeep we are on whispers and all of us crane our necks and peer intensely in that direction. 

Sometimes, it is nothing. Sometimes, it is another animal - a deer - peacefully chewing the grass and letting us know that there is nothing menacing around it.

And sometimes, there is one, trying to avoid the human eyes and hiding behind the bushes. It is not scared. Just not interested. Supremely disinterested. It is a direct contrast to all the bubbling excitement overflowing from the human in the jeep. The frantic photography and video capture is met with yawns and a brushing aside attitude. That's what makes it the king?

It makes me laugh at us humans. It is like wealth. There is no guarantee who will see it that day. There is no apparently deserving candidate. The person could be a photographer or a casual visitor who does not even respect the rules of the forest safari - like staying quiet. It could be a hit or miss sighting, or a long view as the tiger or lion walks a stretch in front of us! 

Once, we had to be content with just hearing the lion roar in the Gir forest and count it as a sighting.

Another time, I remember seeing a tiger marking its territory in the Bandipur jungles. It looked at our jeep as we crossed it with a "Oh, you" look and went on about its business. We must have had a royal darshan of about nearly 20 minutes, which should have us feel contented. Then, as other jeeps started coming, it went behind the bushes. Some saw its vanishing tail and some, not even that. 

The smart safari driver took us out to a point the tiger was likely to emerge from. It did arrive at that point eventually, but sat just behind, tantalisingly close and yet hidden from view!

Recently, in Ranthambore, we went up and down a path but missed seeing one. Then, as we came back down the path, the guide asked the driver to stop the jeep. There it was, a young tiger lying on a rock under the shadow of a thick canopy. We could spot it because it got up, turned and walked on.

That's all, but that image is still imprinted like holding on to some wealth for a few minutes before spending it all on repaying loans and other expenses. It was there one moment, gone the next!

But soon after, an older tigress stood in our path, leisurely made it to the waterbody nearby and walked on the other side till she went behind the bushes! Another young tigress slept, woke up, slept and woke up - clearly visible and yet not entirely out in the open. She moved spots and still we waited, wondering if it was worth it. And it was, for we got a royal glimpse of her as she walked beside us, crossing and caring only for herself and her destination.

But if sighting is a blessing, watching the animals mating or killing can send us into the next level of euphoria. What more can you ask for! But, wait, I have said that dialogue and heard many others say it after their first sighting. And yet, in every safari after that, our eagerness only increases. There is no satiating this thirst for sighting the predator. Sighting it clearly. And seeing it do different things - like scratch itself, yawn, chase each other, kill something, eat something, or even bare its fangs at us.

When one morning we saw a tigress, again, just barely visible, we waited desperately, hoping for a clear sight. That didn't happen. Disappointed, we kept hovering after the other vehicles left when suddenly two calves belonging to the villagers walked that way looking for greener pasture. With the bells around their necks ringing, the two young cows looked like friends taking a stroll. "They are walking to sure death," the guide told us and we stood to watch from what we hoped was a vantage point. One moment there were two calves, the next, the tigress pounced and killed one. The survivor ran for its life leaving behind its friend. The tigress dragged the beast to the shadows and we had to be content, knowing she was eating but just vaguely making out the figures.  

Wait, did I say content? Oh, that word doesn't exist in safaris as in life. Every time we are on the safari, we want something more. And we are jealous when we hear of others having some unique experience - oh, I wish I had been there, I had seen that!

Yes, it is nothing but Maya - ironically, there was a tigress in Tadoba called just that, and how apt! When we have nothing, we want something. But when we get something, we want more and more! That's what makes us go back once every few months, and do many safaris each time!

There is no curing this except saying, enough, I have had enough! And that, with a camera in hand, is a tough thing to say.  ///