Wednesday 25 February 2009

Corbett Corbett...

You can take a man out of the city, but you can never take the city out of a man.

There we were, in one of Corbett National Park's most famous chaurs, or grasslands, while our Gypsy driver pointed out a Horned Owl amid one of the branches. Along came another Gypsy, its denizens a bunch of young men from the City. Seeing us stop, they asked what could we see. We said, an Owl.

"उल्लू की माँ चोदो. हमें शेर देखना हैं."

And in one instance, my vision of a human world co-existing with the natural world disappeared.

Can man, as a species, truly recognize the importance of every species in a ecosystem? Given that everyone goes to Corbett to see a tiger (we did too), does that fact really diminish all other species' importance within that park? What is indeed, the difference between a tiger and an owl? Both cannot live in harmony with humans, and both are equally vital as is the Chital or a Wild Boar in Corbett's ecosystem.

Dhikala resthouse.
Babies play with their nannies while their parents catch up on sleep. Loud men in garish clothes reek of alcohol in a no-drinking place. A family of 10 constantly chats, even while on safaris. And nubile young women stretch their bosoms out of a Cielo to gather a glimpse of an imaginary tiger.

Does the idea of eco-tourism really work? Not in my book, unless one is aware, unless one recognizes the idea of co-existence.
It's a little bit like communalism, really. Hindus don't want to live with Muslims. Muslims don't want to live with Jews. Jews don't want to live with Christians. And all of them certainly don't want animals around them, unless it's a fancy Pomeranian they've bought for 15k.
So is there a solution?
Probably. And in certain little ways, Corbett is an example. Hand out garbage bags at the gate. No non-veg food inside the resthouses. Restrict the traffic inside the reserve. Fine people who do not obey the rules.
Yet, there is a lot more that can be done. Hold workshops inside the resthouses. Teach the people why they should respect forests. Do not look over any sort of indiscipline.
We can save the tigers, but can we save ourselves?

An interesting observation: A solar-electrified fence around the Dhikala resthouse means only one thing. Out here, in this outpost in the middle of a jungle, we are the ones inside cages. Therefore, we have to behave like the ones who live inside cages.






Tuesday 17 February 2009

of fat jaguars and ice-cream addicted monkeys

The signboard reads: 'Dangerous animals. Please don't put your hand inside the cage.'
I finally understand why the Mayans revered the Jaguar as a god.
Sadly-not here in Delhi Zoo.
"It looks unhealthy."
"Obviously. Look at the exercise they get. A bloody 15 by 15 feet cell."
"Look at the flab that hangs under its belly."
"What is it trying to do? Climb that branch?"
"The female's not interested."
"Fuck. That's a lot of flab."



Dangerous animals over. We wade through marsh mosquitoes, and halt at the mother of all thievery corporations.

(A monkey with an ice-cream, in case you were wondering.)

"Bipedal animals look so ugly."

Friday 13 February 2009

a season of discontent

and life moves on, like a crawling tadpole about to take its first step on land.
my terrace is a cheap replacement for the sands of Goa.
yet i park my behind and sun-bathe like an inglorious individual.

unusually warm for this time of the year. the ants are out of their hibernation and back to what they do best--invade my kitchen. my landlord's sons believe a loud barbecue party is the best way to end the season's depression. coal flakes fly all over my head. my clothes line creates a hyperbolic shape under the weight of all the clothes that we refuse to pick up and pack in.

"Who told you to leave your job at a time like this?"