| You have spent a lifetime
working with wildlife. What got you started?
My parents who were teachers, were both involved with nature,
basically plants. We lived in a small town called Nanguneri
in the Tirunelveli district of Tamil Nadu. Both my mother
and father loved dogs and I recall outings with them hunting
small game, which was then permitted. They would encourage
me to go swimming in village tanks. Picnics with them were
never in city parks, but rather in the wilds of the Western
Ghats that people now know as the famous Kalakad-Mundanthurai
Tiger Reserve. I think I was born loving nature.
And how did this love turn to a career in science?
I used to ask questions about wildlife that no one could answer,
so I began to search for answers myself by observing animals.
In my view curiosity is the greatest trigger for good science.
One of my earliest research projects was on dholes. My thesis
on these incredible canids was dedicated ‘to my father
for having taken me to the jungle when I was young and to
my mother for having permitted me to go with him’.
You have always been a pragmatic conservationist. Whose values
have influenced you most greatly?
Without question, Jim Corbett. He loved tigers, but he knew
that a tiger that had turned man-eater had to be put down.
I find that ‘over-sentimentalism’, is often the
enemy of good conservation in India. I discovered Corbett
accidentally when I picked up a Tamil translation of his famous
book Man-eaters of Kumaon in our town library. Corbett set
me dreaming of mahseer, goral, tigers and forests full of
wildlife.
And your ‘real life’ influences?
J.C. Daniel of the Bombay Natural History Society (recipient
of the Sanctuary- ABN AMRO Lifetime Service Award, 2000). I
first met him when trekking up in the Kalakad hills in May
1971. I had finished my Masters in Zoology from the Madras
Christian College and was teaching Zoology at Ayya Nadar Janaki
Ammal College, Sivakasi. J.C. put the thought in my head that
I should start writing down my own personal wildlife observations.
He helped me get an assignment as an assistant to
Dr. Michael Fox, a world authority on canids, in the Sigur
Reserve Forests near Mudumalai in 1973 and 1975. Later, the
superb works of Dr. George B. Schaller on various charismatic
mammalian species inspired me to make this my life.
You are best known for elephants, mahseer, gorals
and dholes. Did the tiger have any role to play in your life?
Very much so. Like anyone else, I too am in awe of this master
predator. I even remember the date I saw my first wild tiger
– September 6, 1976 – just three years after Bandipur
was declared one of India’s first nine tiger reserves.
I was following dholes in the forest and the light was fading
at the end of a tiring day. Near a lantana patch I heard langur
and sambar alarm calls. I thought the alarm calls were for
the dholes that I was searching for so I mimicked the whistling
call of the dogs. The tiger probably thought that a dhole
pack was around and it came charging out of the scrub around
25 m. from me. But it never saw me as I was standing behind
a tree. The Bandipur visitor’s book at the Reception
Centre, may probably still have my excited entry in it.
Is the black and white image of a tiger you have in
your hand the one you saw?
No. This image was taken two years later. For years, no one
had been able to take a clear picture of a tiger in Bandipur.
Because my dhole study area was littered with tiger spoor,
I always carried a camera around ‘just in case’.
On May 23, 1978, around 7 a.m., I was sitting eight metres
up on a mango tree in the Ministerguthi nullah, which was
frequented by tigers whose pugmarks could easily be seen and
whose spray markings, I could smell. I sat for around 45 minutes,
barely breathing when a movement in the tall grass caught
my eye. The tiger walked towards a clearing right in front
of me and when it reached a patch of sunlight, I whistled
and with a perplexed look on its face, it froze staring straight
at me. But the moment it heard my camera shutter, it vanished.
Interestingly, a group of langur feeding in the canopy above
my mango tree, failed to see the tiger, though I thought they
would surely warn me in advance of its arrival. I cannot stop
smiling whenever I see this picture.
And what about the elephant picture you took at night
on the bank of the Ganges?
I took the picture of this tusker at night sitting on a pile
of boulders in the Chilla-Motichur corridor. There is one
more tusker (younger) visible in the picture.
It was another one of those quiet, unforgettable experiences
that make up the life of wildlife people. It was taken in
May 1993, on the left bank of the Ganges. The icy snow-melt
water had formed an emerald-green pool in which I could see
many two kilogramme golden mahseer swimming. Dung and tracks
indicated that the pool was frequented by elephants. I guessed
that elephants visited the pool at night. My colleague Rawat
and I sat down on the nearby embankment at 6 p.m. after asking
our driver Navin to return at 10 p.m. Many sambar and chital
came to drink at the river and we could hear the musical whistling
of the Indian Pitta, River and Redwattled Lapwings, Great
Stone Plovers and nightjars. A half-moon shone in the clear
sky and the entire scene was ethereal. But no sign of elephants.
Around 9.30 p.m., I whispered to Rawat that the elephants
may not arrive, so we may as well start packing up since Navin
would soon be with us. I had hardly said this, when two bull
tuskers, one around 30 years of age and the other, perhaps,
around 15, emerged purposefully from the forests on the left
bank and literally plunged into the pool. They swam and played
for a few minutes unaware of us, which was good as they could
easily have reached us. When the larger bull stood facing
me, I took the image and the flash disturbed the bulls. They
ran to the far shore rumbling and swaying restlessly for some
minutes. Then as though nothing had happened, they plunged
right back into the pool and played for about 20 minutes.
I took more pictures, but they were not nearly as good as
the first one. The elephants ran from the pool only when they
heard Navin driving the Land Rover towards us. My colleagues
tried the same trick later but they saw no elephants. It is
not that the experience was dramatic, just that it felt magical.
Some biologists have claimed that the Chilla-Motichur
elephant corridor is not really very important.
They are entitled to their opinion, but they probably do not
know the facts. V.B. Singh wrote in the 75th volume of the
Journal of the BNHS, when he was Chief Wildlife Warden of
the former Uttar Pradesh: “Not long ago, the banks of
the Ganga between Haridwar and Rishikesh were fully forested,
except for a few inconspicuous hamlets like Raiwala. Every
summer, a wildlife spectacle of elephant congregation occurred
on the banks of the Ganga, as it now happens on the banks
of the Ramganga near Dhikala in Corbett Tiger Reserve.”
Elephants from the forests on both banks gather to bathe,
play and drink, and feed on the sprouting green grasses of
Kunaun chaur, an area of about 15 sq. km. If we establish
this corridor, we will have a 6,000 sq. km. continuous tiger-elephant
habitat between the Yamuna and the Gola rivers near Haldwani.
Such a large contiguous habitat may not occur anywhere else
along the Himalayan foothills.
So why did this spectacle vanish from Raiwala?
By human design. Populations grew and ‘development’
was ushered in to Raiwala, on the right bank of the Ganges,
turning it from a hamlet into a township. The Indian Army
built an ammunition dump here in the early 1960s. Then 90
Tehri dam oustees were resettled between Raiwala and the Motichur
rau in three settlements. On top of this, the
13 km. long Kunaun power channel was cut into the left bank
of the Ganga in the early 1970s. The Kunaun goth (village)
grew in size and Gujjars encroached upon most of the chaur.
Then the residents of Gangabhagpur Thalla village abandoned
their landslip-prone homes in the mountains and settled on
the chaur between the channel and the Ganges river. Despite
all these traumas impelled by ancient urges, the elephants
still use the passage. I continue to see chital, sambar and
elephant bulls moving between the forests on both the banks
of the Ganges. But this will stop and another nail will be
driven into the elephant coffin – unless the Chilla-Motichur
corridor, proposed 20 years ago, is re-established.
You turned 60 this year. Any regrets?
Are there choices you made that you might like to change?
No. I would change nothing. My wife Kousalya and I, and our
two sons, Mike and Mervin, have had a blessed life. Every
day has been an adventure. Of course, there have been ups
and downs, but I am still a trekker in the hills and know
that the ups and downs only serve to make journeys more interesting.
Disappointments at work?
I wish we had been able to convince powerful people including
politicians to be more strongly supportive of wildlife conservation.
In our beloved country everything works in slow motion. We
took ages to eliminate Veerappan, even longer to imprison
Sansar Chand and we have been discussing the crucial
Chilla-Motichur elephant corridor in the Rajaji National Park
across the Ganges for more than 20 years.
You and I have worked on this initiative together
for a decade. Do you actually think we will see the corridor
revived before we die?
Yes, we will. While bad news seems to be the order of the
day, I can make out that the many warnings we have been giving
over the years about the impact on our water security from
forest loss have been internalised. The only thing is that
a system used to moving in one direction does not know how
to change. I am still confident that the emergency measures
we have recommended for the corridor will be implemented and
that the elephants will get back their ancient migratory route
before either of us die.
What about the lion translocation project from Gir
in Saurashtra to Kuno in Madhya Pradesh?
The less said, the better. We must translocate a pride, but
before that we must ensure that the meticulous plan to restore
Palpur Kuno in Madhya Pradesh is implemented. Gujarat does
not want ‘Gujarati’ lions to leave the state.
The villagers in Palpur Kuno who have expressed their willingness
to move are not seeing the kind of support they expected from
the M.P. government. It appears that the tiger crisis in the
country has made the authorities forget about the lion translocation
programme. A Sariska type situation could strike Gir,
but instead of poachers it could be disease that wipes out
all the lions. For the sake of saving ‘Gujarati’
lions, we need to urgently establish a second population far
away from Gir.
You have now retired after a lifetime devoted to wildlife
conservation. Will you miss the Wildlife Institute of India?
My 20 years with the WII were the best years of my life. I
will never forget my colleagues or some of my students. The
good thing about my stint with the WII was that while I was
teaching, I was learning. What is more, I lived right next
to the Corbett landscape where tigers, goral, king cobra and
golden mahseer fish roamed free. The WII will be a part of
me till I die and even though Kousalya and I will now be settling
down in south India, I expect to be back at the WII frequently
as part of their training, research and teaching programmes.
Any advice for young field biologists?
Learn from nature. Let your curiosity take charge. Be fit
physically. Read everything you possibly can about the hidden
secrets of nature. And don’t let this remain a book-involvement.
Protect nature. Be an active conservationist and work with
others who share your values. Learn also to work with the
powers that rule the land and try to influence them to take
the right steps to benefit nature conservation. Stay away
from bitterness and destructive rivalry as this will only
cause you to fritter away your precious time, energy
and resources. |
