THE LAUGHING TREE AND OTHER STORIES
A trip to
Dudhwa on the border of Nepal will expose you to stunning wildlife, fascinating
conversations and greenery you may never have heard of before
Endless stretches of
sugarcane fields and bright yellow mustard fields… with jackals, junglefowl and
mongooses darting through the foliage, and wild peacocks strutting majestically
before our jeep, we pass turbaned farmers on tractors and girls on bicycles
with harvested canes strapped behind them. We finally traverse a bumpy, track
lined with litchi groves, reaching our hotel, and there we are: at Palia Kalan
near Dudhwa, which is on the Indo-Nepal border at the foothills of the
Himalayas. This is the swampy Terai grassland between the mighty Himalayas and
the plains. We are excited to be in this region which has access to four
wildlife sanctuaries – Kishanpur, Katarniaghat, Pilibhit and Dudhwa National
Park.
UDHWA
WAS HUNTING COUNTRY FOR THE ROYALS... THE TERRITORY OF FAMOUS HUNTER-
TURNED-CONSERVATIONIST BILLY AR JAN SINGH
TIGER,
TIGER, BURNING BRIGHT
Long ago, Dudhwa was an
untamed land of marshes and grasslands, and hunting country for the royals.
Now, some of the grasslands and forests have become sugarcane fields. There are
small villages in the buffer areas, where cows graze in the forest reserve and
women hang their colourful saris, like borders between fields. This was the
territory of famous hunterturned-conservationist Billy Arjan Singh. His
exploits are the stuff of legend in these parts. A member of the royal
Kapurthala family, he was a hunter, till one day he shot a leopard and felt
revulsion for his act; he gave up hunting and turned conservationist.
Our first safari takes us
to Dudhwa National Park, where the one-horned rhino was reintroduced from
Assam’s Kaziranga in 1984. At Dudhwa, the best way to see a rhino is to take an
elephant safari. Lumbering our way atop the pachyderm, trampling through the
thick undergrowth and trees, we finally reach the amber savannahlike
grasslands, catching sight of a mother and child rhino duo walking through the
tall grass.
The next day, we drive to
Kishanpur Wildlife Sanctuary with its dense forests of trees like sal and teak,
interspersed with swamps, taals (shallow lakes) and scrub grasslands and
meadows. This rich ecosystem supports a zillion species of birds, including
migratory birds. We see majestic vultures, falcons and more, soaring high up in
the sky, pointed out by enthusiastic guides with binoculars. From the
watchtower, we see pied kingfishers and a lot of teals, egrets and jacanas. The
list is endless and I try to remember them all – orioles, barbets, fork-tailed
drongos. At Jhadi Taal, a large water body, we see herds of majestic
yellowishbrown barasinghas (deer with gigantic, 12 pronged antlers) sitting on
tiny islands, and turtles clinging to floating logs. But the most memorable
moment is when we spot a tawny tigress, not far from the path, marking her
territory and loping majestically in front of our jeep.
DANCING
DOLPHINS
Katarniaghat, extending
over 154 square metres, borders the gargantuan River Geruwa (a tributary of
Nepal’s longest river, Karnali), and is a habitat for gharials. We see them
sunning themselves on sand bars in the middle of the river. Gliding around the
Maila Nala, an Amazon-like narrow inlet in the river that leads to inner
channels – we spot an Indian rock python on (where else?) a rock. This is also
the splashing ground of playful Indo-Gangetic dolphins, and on a windless day,
you can catch them prancing on the water! After a quick picnic lunch of kathi
rolls and biryani, we take a game drive through the forests of Katarniaghat.
The vegetation is lush and tropical. Driving through jamun and silk cotton
trees, as well as tall kans grasses that look like bulrushes, we see adjutant
storks and keen fish eagles.
THE
LAUGHING OR THE GUDGUDI TREE, WHEN TAPPED AT THE BOTTOM, SHAKES AND QUIVERS AS
IF AN ELECTRIC CURRENT WERE FLOWING THROUGH IT
We also see something
we’d never heard of before: the laughing tree or the gudgudi tree – when he
taps it at the bottom, it shakes and quivers right at the top, as if an
electric current were flowing through it!
One afternoon, we drive
to the nearby Sathiyana Reserve. This forest range named after the last Sati
site in these parts has beautiful avenues lined with sal trees, and huge
termite mounds that look like cathedrals. In many places, the towering trees
let in only small streams of light, making it reminiscent of an Impressionist
painting.
TRIBAL
TRYST
There’s more to Dudhwa
than the wildlife: the local tribes living in about 40 villages in and around
the forests are Tharus, who according to locals, migrated from Rajasthan, when
the Mughals invaded it. Today, the Tharu tribe is female dominated and many
live in Nepal too.
We visit the Tharu
village of Mundnochini, with about 400 people. Women cut vegetables outside
their homes, some children ride bicycles, while others sit on charpoys with
their school books. I am invited to inspect one of the homes – it’s neatly
kept, with two storeys, and huge mud containers for storing grains. At Manjula
Taal nearby – a swampy water body infested with bright green clumps of
watercress – I see village women with small bamboo baskets tied to their waists
cast nets to catch the local kharsa fish.
Come evening we retire to
the lounge at the lodge, furnished with old memorabilia from the area, and
wildlife books. Over drinks and snacks, we catch up with the naturalists and
other guests about the day’s sightings. I am intrigued as to why the
naturalists Amit and Yogesh came to remote Dudhwa from their state of
Karnataka. “We are married to the jungle, and when the jungle beckons, we just
pack our bags,” they say with a twinkle in their eyes. Talking to them, I learn
the little secrets of the forest – that one needs patience and a good eye, one
has to listen to warning calls by birds, barking deer or black-faced langurs
that alert the jungle to the presence of the big cats. The owner of the
property, who is in town, regales us with stories of how herds of barasinghas
once roamed around this farm land, and adds vignettes of his childhood in these
parts.
·
by Kalpana Sunder
HTBR8OCT18
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