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Published: January 20th 2011
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Even the little Indian girl, who had been wailing just moments before fell silent, on hearing the distress call of the Samur buck, sounding for all the world like a smoker ‘hack’ ing through a megaphone. Answering calls came back from the plateau above and the other side of the narrow wooded valley that surrounded our safari truck. There was some agitation in the trees too, as the birds caught wind of what was up and then the spotted deer and monkeys playing by the river seemed to disappear into thin air. Our guide whispered that there was a predator moving along the plateau so we waited, barely daring to shift our sore buttocks for fear of alerting the tiger or leopard to our presence. The forest fell silent and seemed to suck even the noise of the breeze through the leaves out of the air, and we sat for what seemed like hours, all scanning the tree-line for movement. As the number and loudness of distress calls diminished it was with some reluctance that we moved on, marking this encounter down as a near-miss. Earlier in the day we had seen fresh tiger paw-prints, right feet overlapping suggesting that the
tiger was walking rather than running, and had had another near-miss with a leopard hiding in the undergrowth that was scared away by another truck starting up its engine. So, after a day and a half in Ranthambore National Park we saw neither tiger nor leopard which was very disappointing but just reinforced to us all how rare these beautiful animals have become, despite their protected status and Ranthambore having the largest big cat population in India. The park was beautiful, full of lakes, streams, escarpments and wooded slopes, and historically it served as the Maharajah’s hunting ground. Dominated by the pink battlements of Rathnambore Fort, with its pilgrimage site of Ganesh’s temple, the park is home to some 30 tigers, 50 leopards, jackals, jungle cats, sloth bears, monkeys, wild boar, spotted and Samur deer, antelope and millions of mischievous monkeys. The majestic banyan trees are home to a myriad of beautifully coloured birds, when not housing leopards lying languidly on their branches, and we saw beautiful lapwings, kingfishers and storks. Treepies are the Indian equivalent of magpies and seem to be just as thieving; every time the truck stopped we were beset by the orange and black birds looking
for tit-bits. The Page and Moy party sharing our hotel had seen tigers the morning before our arrival and the staff had recently had a leopard visit the edge of the compound so perhaps we were lust unlucky. We returned to the hotel somewhat down-hearted but an evening barbecue, complete with Rajastani entertainment, under the stars and in front or a roaring fire lifted our spirits a little. W,E and I now sport henna tattoos on our hands and, do you know, if I flex my fingers mine almost looks like a tiger roaring! Our hosts had been most gracious and helpful, despite short-changing us by one safari (more of a fault of our tour company than the hotel), which made our exorbitant bar bill (London prices!) difficult to stomach. Clearly the local economy depends on tiger tourists much as other places in the world do when they are surrounded by rare wildlife. It is right that tourists should pay for the privilege of visiting such places; our issue here was the hidden nature of the costs, almost at the level of trickery, and it is hard not to feel, at times, that everyone in India is out to rip
you off. Anyway, ‘English’man abroad rant over …
Rajastan is a riot of colour, from the beautifully-decorated Jeepneys and trucks to the colourful saris of the women at toil in the fields. Indigo-painted temples, the mustard yellows, purples, ultramarine and crimson headscarves of the women at market – even the tractors seem more beautiful than Utar Pradesh! For the first time in India we have seen kite-fliers, boys and young men hoisting their man-made diamonds high into the sky from the rooftops of the small towns we have passed through. Like tiny jewels they dance and spin around each other and the vanquished ones flap aimlessly on telegraph wires and in tall trees. There is still dust and litter but here we have seen well-maintained yards and farms and people attempting to accumulate the rubbish into piles – it is a such a shame that there is no-one to take it away.
Our journeys with Kuldeep early in the morning have taken us past the first customers of the street-side barbers, men huddling and rubbing their hands around the remnants of last night’s fires as line after line of young girls and women carry home the daily water, balanced on
heads and carried in huge steel flasks. The men then move on to the real business of the day, dissecting the newspapers and chewing over local village politics, whilst the women make breakfast and prepare themselves for another hard day in the fields, scything and pitchforking and bundling up firewood. Young boys walk to school in their immaculate sky-blue shorts and grey shorts but girls seem less likely to enjoy this privilege away from the cities. Instead they, and the boys too poor for school, help their mothers or herd goats and tend the family cows, although most of the cows look as if they wouldn’t take instruction from anyone as they amble their way out to graze and forage in the streets before wandering home again in the evening. As the women toil in the sun and the dust, the younger men engage in cricket barely a full-toss away. We catch momentary glimpses of children at play, usually stick and hoop and all too many views of men excreting and urinating at the road-side. We are all experiencing a very different culture and William and Emily seem less repulsed and confused by such sights, less worried by the hugs
and cheek-pinching and more patient about the roads and distances than Diana and I feared they would be. William’s rather flat ‘No thank you’ that he uses as armour at home against foods and activities he doesn’t want to try is now being put to good use against the hawkers that surround us as we emerge from any historical monument. Emily accepts all of the attention graciously, although did become upset by the over-close attentions of the monkeys at Ranthambore Fort.
We move on to Jaipur today, and say goodbye and a huge thank you to Kuldeep for his excellent driving and for conducting us safely through the fields of saffron, mustard, wheat and potatoes and pass the brick-kilns and stonemasons of this part of Rajastan. He has taught us much, in his own quiet way – not least that not everyone in India is out to rip us off!!!
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