34. JIM CORBETT PARK (UTTARAKHAND), INDIA

This is the last of the five blogs covering this enjoyable trip

The thick Terai forest of Ram Nagar area

Driving down from Nainital, we reached Ram Nagar by noon. I had shared in my previous blog the pleasure of looking at the lush green forests on both sides of the winding hill road and the tall pine trees kissing the azure sky. What perhaps I did not share was the joy of taking off, one layer after the other of the woollens, that I was wearing when we started from Nainital in the morning. Finally, in a cotton T-shirt and Denims, I did feel like a human being as against the stuffed doll that I had become in the freezing cold of Nainital.

In front of the room where we stayed in the Country Inn

As soon as we reached the Country Inn Hotel, our first query was regarding visiting the Jim Corbett National Park, the famous Tiger Reserve named after Jim Corbett who killed a number of man-eaters in Almora, Kumaon and Pauri Garhwal hills and whose memoirs I first read when I was only 10 years old and which I still remember.

The Receptionist at the hotel informed that they could arrange for the Entry Permit required for entering the Park for the next day only. But who wanted to wait? Dumping our luggage at the hotel and having a quick grub, we headed off to the Govt. office where Entry Permits are issued. It did take some time, but we managed to get one, with the help of the owner of the Gypsy that we had hired. We could not take our car inside as only licensed olive green coloured Gypsies (a type of Jeep) are permitted to enter the park. Driving down a distance of about 15 km from the Govt. Office to the park at a high speed in an open vehicle forced us to put our coats back to use.

The thick  rugged forest in the Jim Corbett Park

At the Jim Corbett National Park, there were some more formalities to be completed at the gate, e.g., the name of the tourists, addresses, verification of identity cards etc.  Once the formalities were completed, we started off our journey in an open rickety Gypsy in a tiger reserve which is known to actually have tigers. 

Hum tum ek jungle se guzarein, aur sher aa jaye,
socho agar aisa ho to kya ho?

As we moved into the thick rugged forest, I was reminded of the song from yesteryear’s Rishi Kapoor & Dimple Khanna starrer “Bobby”, “Hum tum ek jungle se guzarein, aur sher aa jaye…socho agar aisa ho to kya ho…. socho agar aisa ho to kya ho?” I kept humming the song for some time but I could not keep quiet for too long and asked the Gypsy driver and the guide, who were nicely seated on the front seat as we were standing in the rear open part of the Gypsy, “What if a tiger actually appears and attacks us?”The guide responded, “No, no. The tiger will never do that.”
“But why will the tiger not do that if it gets an easy prey?” I asked.
“I know that, it will not attack human beings,” he emphasised.

“How can you be so sure?” I was persistent.

“Madam, after all, the tiger also knows that if it attacks a human being, it will be sent to the zoo.”

I wanted to burst out laughing but suppressed it with great difficulty and asked with a smug face, “Oh…really? But how would the tiger know that a place like zoo exists?”

“Tiger knows everything. They have been living here so long. They are intelligent animals and so they know that human beings will transfer them to a zoo if they attack them.”

A number of rivulets criss-cross the Jim Corbett Park

Listening to such great defence of the tiger’s intelligence, I decided to honourably concede the point. Nodding understandingly, I decided to admire the beauty of the thick forest and different sounds of the innumerable birds audible despite the engine’s loud irritating sound. 

Watching these colourful pebbles under water was a treat to the eye.
Can you see the water here?

There are no pucca roads here. They are all natural kutcha roads with round river stones strewn all around on a bumpy road. Many rivers including Ramganga quietly flow through the forest in their full glory during the rainy season but in their puny avatars in the month of December. The water in the rivulets was crystal clear and seeing the colourful pebbles through the flowing water was a treat to the eye.  

The tiger was elusive, but cheetals were plenty.

We drove through the forest entering the side roads and taking unexpected turns trying fervently to spot a tiger. We did see cheetals (a type of deer) at many places and I started wondering how they could survive with so many tigers around.  We also heard chirping of various birds as this area is known to shelter many migratory birds.

Everything was there, but the bright burning stripes of the tiger, which we wanted to see so desperately, were elusive. Tiger ... Tiger ...where are you? Saying this, I suddenly remembered this poem of William Blake:

“Tiger, Tiger burning bright
In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”

                      (William Blake 1757-1827)

We were scanning the area with a fine toothcomb repeating the same routes again and again and failing. It looked like that ours was the only Gypsy in that area. Driving through the forest amidst tall and thick elephant grass, the Guide suddenly asked the Driver to stop the vehicle in the middle of nowhere. 
Getting down from the jeep, he turned to us, “Now both of you just stand here quietly and don’t move….” 

I was shocked. What was this guy up to? What does he mean by telling us not to move and stand still? I quickly slipped my hand into my right pocket and grabbed tightly the Zapper that I usually carry with me as a weapon of defence in suspicious circumstances.

“….Now you listen to the sound of the jungle,” he said.

Trying to listen to the sounds of the jungle when the Gypsy stopped 

I loosened my grip on the Zapper and tried to appreciate the rustling sound of tree leaves in the quiet forest. But being an overcautious Delhi bred person, where anything is possible, my eyes were at the Guide and the Driver. When I noticed them moving towards a side with arms on each other’s shoulder, I again became uncomfortable and called out to them, “Listen, we have heard the jungle sounds. Not interested anymore. Let’s go back from here now.”

As they turned, hubby got irritated, “What’s happened? Why do you want to leave? Let’s hear and enjoy the jungle sounds.”

“No. Let’s leave,” I sounded curt but did not know how to tell the unsuspecting hubby that the behaviour of these two guys aroused strong suspicion in my mind. So long as they were sitting in the vehicle and driving, I felt safe but not this way. I realised at that time the value of coming to such places in a group of friends and missed my Buddies. I don’t know whether I am over-suspicious or just practical ….. whatever! Mercifully, they both returned though hesitatingly and we resumed our drive much to my relief. 

As we moved, we reached a place where a number of Gypsy vans had already reached and were waiting. Tourists in at least one vehicle had seen the tiger and one of them was showing to everyone, a video clip of the tiger he had recorded. So many vehicles were moving in the forest and we had not come across any one of them. Such is the size of this Forest. I understand it is spread over an area of 521 sq km in Nainital and Pauri Districts of Uttarakhand.

Fresh pug marks of the tiger put us on its trail again

A fresh effort to locate the tiger began and all the Gypsies again started moving on the tiger trail. Suddenly, we saw the tiger’s fresh pug marks on the road-side and we started going up and down and back and forth but the tiger had become invisible. “It must be hiding in some bush,” our Guide said.

An unfulfilled dream

He also told us that the best time to see the tiger is in April because most trees are denuded by then and bushes become dry. With the forest being less dense, the tiger is more easily visible. Moreover, by April, the weather is a little warm and most rain-fed rivulets dry up. When a tiger comes out in search of water, it is easier to locate it.

As the sun was about to set and our permitted time was getting over, we had to drive out of the jungle.

The jeep dropped us at the Govt. Office from where we had taken it. After paying the amount, as soon as we got into our car, hubby asked for my explanation and I had to sheepishly share with him why I had asked those guys to get back to their seats and keep driving. It’s a different story that he did not agree with me. But then I still feel, better be safe than sorry.

Dining Cottage made of locally procured natural material

The relaxed evening was spent in admiring the hotel premises, its beautiful lawns, stone building, a circular Dining Cottage made exclusively of locally procured natural material, its beautiful trees, beds of colourful flowers, marigolds and chrysanthemums and quiet peaceful environs. There were many exclusive cottages too apart from the rooms.

Such colourful flowers were feast to our eyes

Students travelling standing on the bumper of a bus on a cold foggy morning

Next day was the time to drive back to Saddi Dilli. But what I saw on the road made my heart overflow with compassion and sympathy for our youth and anger at the apathy of the Govt. Young boys travelling from one town to another for attending college, hanging on the bumper of a bus on a foggy morning in the peak of winter made a painful sight. The fact that the Govt. has neither been able to open sufficient number of colleges in towns nor has provided enough buses to make inter-city commuting easy, made me feel very sad. How I wish I could do something for these boys who were precariously hanging on the bumper of the bus which we were following for a long time! If their number were small, I could have given them a lift in my car, I thought. However, despite this ordeal, they appeared to be enjoying the ride. Finally, when we overtook the bus, they all merrily waved out at us. 
Youth is after all youth!

“When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?”

                                      (William Blake 1757-1827)

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