Tigresses in the wild

Visiting the Indian forests for the past 10 years, one comes across interesting demands and language with regard to tigers. Apart from the usual ‘ akeli gadi’ and ‘road hi road’ another interesting demand by the guests directed towards the un- suspecting driver or guide is, “Female toh bahut dekh li, lekhin “bhaiya male dekhna hai” (we want to see a male tiger.) As if the pilgrimage without seeing a man of the feline world is incomplete. For me however, it has always been the lady folk of the feline world who have held special interest. It is probably because of their ability to seem unfazed, undeterred in the face of constant adversity or just the fact that well, they are women.

My first ever tigress was in 2010 (I first time I visited Bandhavgarh) by the name of Mahaman female. True to her family name of being shy and elusive, I just about caught a glimpse of her ochre coat in the fading evening light, speeding up a hill, her powerful stride crushing the leaves underfoot and leaving us gasping for more. My second was the beautiful Kankatti, fearless, with one functioning eye, she was nothing short of a warrior, raising her cubs in an area frequented by many males. A beautiful memory I have of Kankatti was when she decided to stow her cubs away into safety by hiding them in the lush fern of Jamunia at Bandhavgarh. With a perennial stream running through the patch, Jamunia was always cool, green and a great resting place for tigers. Once the haunt of the famous tigress Chorbehra or Langdi (who I didn’t have the good fortune of seeing), Kankatti’s cubs couldn’t be flushed out by the most experienced of mahouts even after a 2-hour search! It was in the evening that the cubs magically appeared only to follow their mother into the Bamboo forest, padding determinedly out of sight. 

My third was Kankatti’s sister, the beautiful Rajbhera. Graceful and lithe, Rajbhera was the epitome of calmness as she patrolled the vast grasslands in the shadow of the great Bandhavgarh hill. A bold tigress, I have had the fortune of seeing her cubs on a stroll with their mother when they were barely a few months old! The size of mice, she waited patiently while each of them crossed over into the forest even as they struggled to walk on the forest track, their legs unused to the slippery mud and they belly full of milk touching the ground.

Rajbehra

Speaking of cubs another tigress who I loved watching was the Banbehi female. Mother to three cubs when I saw her, she and Bamera would watch over the cubs in shifts and a memorable day was when I saw Banbehi and Bamera work as a team. With both slightly hysterical about the unresponsive cub who remained hidden behind a bush, I saw Banbehi lead the way scouring every bush, while Bamera walked laboriously behind her calling in a pleading manner for the cub to make an appearance. With Banbehi’s tail held high and swishing every now and then, it was interesting to observe the tiger as more than a predator, a worried mother.

Banbehi 

                                                                     

Two tigresses who have grown to be real keepers of their fortress have been daughters of the stunning blue- eyed boy of Bandhavgarh and the beautiful Sukhi Patiya female. Named Spotty and Dotty owing to their stripe markings they have been a crowd favourite, offering leisurely sightings to those in need of one. With Spotty being the bigger of the two and almost resembling a male, she was the first tiger my mother ever saw. Walking along the forest track with her tail held high in anticipation of marking her territory, she gave us quite a show, staring at us curiously as we drove past her, her piercing blue eyes, passed down to her from her father. I remember being only privy to stories of Dotty back then till I saw her with the magnificent Mahaman male or ‘Mamu’ as he is fondly called, courting and calling out to each other. The next time I saw her was she had littered, and I had the good fortune of hearing her call out to her cubs as she sashayed down the forest track.

Sukhi Patiya. Photo credit: Aniket Gupta 

Dotty with Sukhi Patiya cub (currently the Dabadol female). Photo credit: Aniket Gupta

Moving from the beautiful Bamboo forests to the Sal forests of Kanha, the first tiger I ever saw was the striking Choti Mada. Patrolling her territory on the far end of Bishanpura meadow, that encounter with her was quite brief. A memorable one was when we were happily trundling along looking for birds and a forest guard on a bike signalled to us desperately. As we hurried forward, he pointed behind him at a Sal tree. There she was! Eyes, a striking shade of obsidian, she was marking happily on a tree and I could hear her sniffing at the other flora around. Relaxed and seemingly happy, she started walking along the forest track into the sun and looked back at us. That’s when I noticed her chocolate brown eyes that had seemed obsidian black just minutes ago. With a flick of her tail and shake of her head she was gone but left an everlasting impression on me.

Choti mada. Photo credit: Varun Mani

The next lady from Kanha I had the opportunity of meeting was the regal Dhawajhandi. Fascinated by her name, the best encounter I have had with this tigress is when she suddenly appeared on the forest track and started calling out to her cubs. “aan aan” in a throaty yet soft voice, she did twice or thrice and walked, tail in their air to mark her territory. Within minutes we hear something rustling in the bushes and three bundles of fur tumbled out of the grass. Sprinting to keep up with the magnificent mum, the family disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared.

Dhawajhandi. Photo credit: Varun Mani

Dhawajhandi and cubs

My favourite from the lush Sal jungle, however, is the calm MV3 (named after the Mahavir clan). A young tigress, MV3 reminds me of the Rajbehra female of Bandhavgarh. Similarly calm in disposition, my favourite encounter with MV 3 was when she was resting out the summer heat with her head atop a rock in the water. Oblivious of her admirers, only her ears showed any sign of movement to flick the flies away, the only intruders to her serene environment.

MV 3 in her habitat

MV 3 on the Sal lined road

As recently as last year, I had the good fortune of seeing the superbly elusive Umarjhola female. Known to be extremely shy, we had to wait for her to come out of the undergrowth for an hour. Known to haunt the Sondar water body, she appeared with her body close to the ground making herself seem as inconspicuous as possible. The only time we could see her properly was when she decided she wanted a drink of water and waded though the shallow water body causing mass hysteria among the other visitors to the lake. After observing her for half an hour, we left her half submerged, the mysterious ‘Tedi poonch’ (famous for a dent in her tail) for who she was, a silhouette by the lake and a powerful force surrounded by alarm calls and the pink hue of the setting sun.

Umarjhola

The last tigress I would like to mention is from Panna. The stunning matriarch T -1 to whom we attribute the success to. Originally from Bandhavgarh where she was known as the Bhitri female, the first time I saw T-1 was by the Karnavati. Her ochre in contrast to the blue of the river was breath taking. As she strode powerfully on the bank of the river accompanied by the background score of a hysterical lapwing flying overhead, I realised how honoured I was to keep such august company.

T- 1, the grand matriarch of Panna. Photo credit: Aniket Gupta