Representative image showing a tiger.
Credit: iStock Photo
At the Mudumalai Tiger Reserve, in the Nilgiris District of Tamil Nadu, we expected, reasonably enough, to see tigers. The fact that we saw none was probably our fault. Although our group of four set off early from nearby Masinagudi to join the safari, we missed the signboard indicating the National Park. As was the case with the narrator in Robert Frost’s poem, taking one path instead of another made ‘all the difference’. The bus left without us, and we settled for a jeep at double the cost.
We trundled along rough terrain through a vast expanse of forest, but no big cat was visible. If we had been in the bus, we might have sighted one through barred windows. As the youngest member of our party pointed out, the vehicle in which we were travelling was uncovered, and the driver would hardly expose us to danger.
Our trip to the adjoining Thepakkadu elephant camp, on the banks of the River Moyar, proved more eventful. On the way, we met peacocks, which approached us as we stopped to admire them. We also saw a spotted deer (chital) relaxing on the roadside. Perhaps they feared the predators that had eluded us that morning and found the outskirts of the jungle safer than its interior.
At 5.30 pm, as we waited to witness an elephant-feeding session, we were entertained by a troupe of langurs and the antics of an elephant calf that was trained to perform tricks. Not far from the latter were three majestic adults. They were secured by chains and separated from the spectators by a barricade. If not restrained, they might have wandered at will. The previous night, two wild elephants had knocked down an electric pole while entering a sugarcane field. As a result, the place where we were staying was temporarily plunged into darkness.
Presumably, those beasts went on a rampage because they had to fend for themselves. They did not have access to the horse gram, ragi, rice, jaggery, coconut, and mineral mixture that comprised the daily diet of the elephants in the sanctuary. A blend of these foodstuffs was kneaded into a dough, and the mahouts went from one elephant to the next, putting a large lump into each animal’s mouth. Formerly, visitors were permitted to perform this task, but the practice was discontinued after an untoward incident. We were quite content to be observant onlookers.