Tigers and Temples
Our small jeep juddered to a halt and the driver hung over the side peering at the ground. He spoke to the local guide who joined him in his scrutiny of the sandy ground below. “Pug marks” announced our guide, “fresh”. Noting our puzzled expressions he clarified this statement and explained they were tiger tracks, made this morning.
Early morning lethargy vanished and we sat up alert and watchful as we continued on our way following the clear tracks on the verge of the track. At a crossroads we stopped. The engine was cut and we listened intently. A loud, raucous call rent the air. It was an alarm call. The direction was established, the engine sprang into life and we raced away. This stop and listen exercise was repeated twice more and each time alarm calls were heard and it seemed we were getting closer to our objective.
Rounding a corner we came across several other jeeps parked on the road and the occupants of the one nearest us raised their fingers to their lips to indicate we should be silent. The excitement was tangible and the urge to shout “have you seen one” almost irrepressible. But we resisted and sat in agitated anticipation.
We edged forward, then we reversed and then our driver pointed urgently ahead and I looked up just in time to see a tiger crossing the road. I tried to focus my camera but failed because in my excitement I had forgotten to remove the lens cap! When I looked down at my camera I found myself staring straight into the face of a tiger that had popped his head out of the jungle right by our jeep. I was so mesmerized I missed the moment and the tiger quickly turned tail and vanished.
Our engine roared as the jeep surged forward following the vehicles ahead. It appeared that the tiger had gone deep into the trees but then miraculously turned back and his face appeared even closer to our jeep than before. In that split second it seemed he stared straight into my eyes, I fervently hoped that the moment had been recorded for ever but no second chances as, like the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland within seconds he had melted away. We waited and hoped he would come back and he did re-emerge, but further away. He and another tiger came right out into the open and crossed the road in single file their powerful muscles rippling under the distinctive striped pelt. Then they were gone. There was a rush to find the best place should the tigers appear again. Some optimists waited where the tigers had last been seen, others moved further down the road. Everyone had guessed wrong, the tigers went deeper and deeper into the jungle.
By now it was time to return to the lodge for breakfast and we made our way back chattering excitedly about the tigers and examining digital images. Breakfast was a relaxed and happy affair as everyone in the group had now seen a tiger and most had good pictures as a memory of a unique experience.
Lounging in our comfortable chairs we lingered over last cups of tea in the open sided restaurant cooled by a breeze from the jungle beyond. It had been a good trip. We reminisced about the Taj Mahal that had come up to everyone’s expectations. Then there was the Red Fort, a fantastic example of Mughal architecture. Varnasi and a dawn boat ride on the Ganges had enthralled us all, the silence as our oars dipped rhythmically into the brown sacred waters and we were spellbound by the early morning activities on the banks, most bizarre the washing of hotel linen that was spread out like a white patchwork on the sandy bank.
Prior our arrival at Bandhavgarh we had visited the Chandela Dynasty temples a Khajuraho, a wonderful experience as these beautifully engraved temples are situated in a lovely, landscaped garden where it was so pleasurable just wandering around as the day faded into sunset.
More was to come, an overnight train journey that can only be described as a true Indian experience rather than a good night’s sleep. And finally a last day in Delhi to embrace this frantic city one last time and race through the narrow shop lined back streets of old Delhi clinging precariously to our bouncing, swaying rickshaws. After sauntering through the spice market enjoying the colours and aromas of the huge sacks full of essential spices we returned for our last night in one of India’s many heritage hotels, the delightful Oberoi Maidens hotel.