In this first of a series remembering tigers, presenting the only tiger I’ve ever seen who was a sage. B2.
Tag: Indian Wildlife
The Tiger in the Cellar
Old Hag had an interesting story to tell me after a long time. And it has lessons in psychology.
The Orange Ghost Miracle
Nothing out of the ordinary: just one of those days when a miracle occurs and a ghost is seen!
Arrowhead
Meet a guided missile with premium-apparel branding.
Enlightenment under a Banyan
As Arrowhead sat meditating under a banyan tree, it was quite someone else who was enlightened.
The Magadhi Marauder
Burly, lithe, has stripes and panache. The Mahaman Male from Magadhi.
Dates with a Star
When I draw under starless skies memories of midday mimes, on sunlit days and a fairy land, the fondly kept tell vivid tales of a deathless date. For the present is so vast that in it even the past resides. There was an untanned patch of hallow ground, from which there sprang grass green and…
How does it feel to see a wild tiger?
So how does it feel to see a wild tiger? I could tell you that waiting for a tiger to emerge feels like watching raindrops trickle off a roofline while awaiting your beloved – a wistful longing fanned by sweet anticipation. But that wouldn’t let you know what it’s like to melt in your own…
Morning Blessing
The bounty of some days makes up for the drought of others, and on this day, another page of the Kinarwah chronicles was to be turned over for our reading pleasure. Just as we saw the Banbehi female off on the Banbehi Nallah Road, Vikas turned back to drive to Mirchani and then complete our…
Survivors at Sunrise
It was the last safari of the trip, an intentionally truncated affair, since we had a date to keep with an annoyingly punctual flight at the end of an 11-hour drive. 25 safaris, including 19 from the previous trip, had passed that year without a glimpse of Kankati’s cubs. Back in May, the first-time mother…
Mirth
My perch in the tree-house creaked. I sat heavily on my feeble rump, feeling in every breath the pangs of a bereaved man. “Old Hag knows the cause of your melancholy,” said Old Hag, who, turning around I noticed, was seated legs folded, roughly two feet off the floor in thin ether. “But let me…
A ‘Boaring’ Digression
One late morning at Sukha Talab, the Pateeha female, having watered herself and her two girls, had risen to a stately squat, ready for departure, when one of the cubs’ attention was diverted by a sound. On the firm conviction that it behoved him to investigate, the cub walked away from the water and positioned…
A Tiger’s Way
The wheels rolled into Rajbehra one searing afternoon, and we learned that one of the Jhurjhura cubs had taken throne on a rocky outcrop behind the dam. As I sat in brief contemplation, the following advisement from an eminent photographer cracked the silence at its seams: “Kaunsa lens hai tere paas, bhai? 300 hai, na?…
Portrait of a Lass
A rejuvenating shower reduced the summer blaze to a simmer. When the sky had run dry of cold tears, a freshness had flowered. A grey francolin, drinking its nectar, stood on a log calling oft, as though, through a broadcast of the pleasant status quo, inviting all parties concerned to partake of the toast. A…
TIGGA TALES 