The sun beats down as we enter the Anamalai Tiger Reserve with our diminutive forest guard, Baby. Much like his name, he sports a cherubic smile and leads us on a narrow path with a warning: “Leeches lurk around these jungles.” He also teaches us how to squeeze and rub the lemon and salt on the feet to keep the parasite away as we follow his brisk strides, taking in the sights of tall trees, damp rocks, glistening streams and the distant view of the verdant Western Ghats.
Every now and then we pause to listen to the avian orchestra. Flocks of the little winged wonders, hop on to tree branches and twitter around making some music and we roll on our cameras. Common and Nilgiri langurs perform acrobatics on trees; a happy family of chitals passes by. As we try to photograph them, the herd goes behind a tree while two stags lock horns in a fierce battle.
Despite feasting on so much in a short time, everyone still yearns for the star attraction of the reserve – the tiger! “Tigers are extremely shy and only if you are lucky, you will see one,” Baby tells us. “But they could be watching you right now. The whole forest is keeping an eye on you.” We imagined our feline friend to be right there scanning us and perhaps we were ill-equipped to see it.
Deep inside the Anamalai forest, there is no movement and not a soul in sight! The silence is eerie. The unwavering stillness of the forest is suddenly broken by the creaking of bamboos! The creepy sound churns my insides. “It could be an elephant,” the guard whispers. A gentle breeze bringing along the fresh smell of elephant dung confirms it. We freeze until a wind takes over and the trees breathe signalling life. Another strong blow ruffles up the leaves and the entire forest roars in response, giving us goosebumps. Walking in the wilderness is a humbling experience that engulfs you in awe one moment and sets you free the very next.
We walk ahead carefully and leave behind footprints on the wet ground, the only slate in the forest that bears the testimony of travellers. Amidst pug marks of leopards we see the massive footprints of elephants. They dot the path like puddles, big circular troughs with rain water collected in them. I feel elated that I am treading the path that the gentle giants traverse everyday. Baby tells us tales of his countless encounters with the inhabitants of the wild.
Anamalai is a place where your wildest of dreams can come true. I had my wish fulfilling moment when a fully grown Indian Gaur stood right in front of me at the guest house. It was such an adrenaline rush when the rotund tempered male bison let out the nerve-racking grunt but I did say my prayers silently. In these forests you can expect animals anywhere anytime. After all it is their home and you are the guest.
The night spent inside was largely sleepless as we were often woken up and shaken too by the trumpeting of elephants that echoed through and almost ripped apart the crumbling old cottage. And believe you me, it was such a psychological relief to wake up to the mellifluous call of the Whistling Thrush, the next morning that witnessed a mild drizzle and everything around looked and felt so very fresh.
Soon dark clouds descended casting their shadows on the massive piece of grassland in the centre of the jungle. Small and big groups of Chitals, Indian Gaurs, Wild boars and Elephants lay lazily, reluctantly getting ready for another day. It appeared as though the animals had come for a mela and we were watching a film. The forest looked like a perfect animal kingdom.
Later we set off on a jungle safari to Parambikulam tiger reserve, where Tamil Nadu seamlessly merges into Kerala. The forest department’s camouflage van took us down the bends and slopes of the undulating landscape into the heart of Parambikulam. From atop the hills, the valley down looks like a green bowl and in its lap lie the oases of Thunakadavu and Parambikulam dams. It’s a sight to behold. On the way downhill, we spot more gaurs and elephants but the tiger remains elusive.
The rain forest of Parambikulam which is home to thousands of species of plants, birds and mammals also houses the world’s largest living teak tree – the Kannimara teak. Standing an impressive 39.98 metres from the ground, and measuring 7.02 metres at its base, the tree is over 500 years old. Seven of us had to encircle the mammoth structure in an attempt to hug it. The Kannimara tree was awarded ‘Mahavriksha Puraskar’ by the Government of India in 1994.
At the end of the day, it’s not the photographs and sightings that matter, but the experience. A trek in the jungle is something warm, sweet and meditative. You make friends with strangers, forge a communion with the wilderness and learn to be a good guest of the animals. I bring back lovely sights and leech bites as reminders and am yet to get over it.
