We clung on as the elephant thrashed around in the undergrowth a few metres from a young female tiger baring her teeth in what was either a genuine threat or a world-weary yawn.
“Picture, picture, picture,” shouted the mahout as we tried to respond from the unsteady platform on the elephant’s back. A hopeless task as a blurry mess of bush and stripe appeared in the digital window.
It was only some time later that our guide gently pointed out that the urgent cry we heard as an instruction for us to take photographs was, in fact, a Hindi command for the elephant to move back to avoid an unhealthy confrontation.
Such are the hazards of locating and then attempting to photograph tigers in Kanha National Park, a 880km2 swathe of tropical forest in Madhya Pradesh and one of the most successful arms of Project Tiger, which has done so much to save, and then rejuvenate, India’s beleaguered tiger population over the past 30 years.
Gauging the numbers of tigers in any one area is never an exact science but at the last estimate there were 128 in the forest, only a third of which is open to tourists.
We spent a week in Kanha and in that time drove through the extensive network of tracks in open-top jeeps for more than 40 hours, after making a start in freezing temperatures at 5am each day. The result in bald statistics was three tiger spottings, two leopard and a fairly sparse collection of antelope, deer and monkeys.
If the hours of searching start to stretch the patience, Kanha has a surprise — something that is frowned upon in other Project Tiger areas, such as Ranthambhore in Rajasthan which we visited next. Early each morning five elephants with their mahouts go out into the bush looking for tigers. Most days they are successful and radio the location back to the park headquarters where passing jeeps drive in to be told where the “Tiger Show,” as they call it, will take place.
You then drive to the area, clamber from your jeep on to the elephant’s back and make the journey of a few hundred yards into the forest where the tiger is usually sleeping and sometimes snarling.
There’s no denying that this is an exciting experience, particularly when the tiger tried to take off and our elephant gave chase with remarkable determination. But to the authorities in Ranthambhore this practice is a) cheating and b) harassment of the animals: You pay your rupees and you make your choice. Personally, we hoped our tiger didn’t resent our 10-minute intrusion too much.
From Kanha we travelled by rail to Agra for the obligatory, but still stunning, view of the Taj Mahal and then on to India’s most successful bird sanctuary in Bharatpur, with an overnight stay at the former palace of the local maharajah with its (very) faded opulence. The walls throughout the hotel were covered in pictures of hunters and their trophies, a timely reminder of the conspiracy between the British and Indian elite that put the tigers in peril in the first place.
Then it was on to Ranthambhore in the dusty semi-desert of eastern Rajasthan, where there is an altogether different approach to protecting tigers.
This was once the private tiger reserve of the maharajah of Jaipur, but by the 1970s the population was on the verge of extinction. There are now thought to be 44 tigers roaming the majestic landscape of Ranthambhore but, yet again, they are threatened — this time by the climate, which has seen the monsoon fail for the past two years and the famous lakes, with their backdrop of the ruins of royal forts and lodges, coming close to drying up.
Much will depend on the coming monsoon to provide the almost instant rejuvenation that comes with the rains, but contingency plans are already under way. Groups of men are digging holes to be filled with water at strategic points in the park in preparation for the hot season and the hope is that nature will then do the rest.
The landscape, towered over by the huge 11th-century Ranthambhore fort, is a spectacular mix of forest and sandstone hills and the people are among the most colourful in India. The park authorities impose a strict access policy with a daily maximum of 40 jeeps and cantours (large open-top coaches that will collect you from your hotel) allowed into the 105km2 core area.
Each vehicle is allotted one of seven different routes and must stick to that area. Route one, which takes you away from the lake area, tends to be the short straw.
So, the hunt for tigers is an elusive but rewarding experience — which is pretty much what you’d say about India in general.
We spent nearly three weeks travelling from Delhi to Madhya Pradesh, to Agra to Rajasthan to Delhi again by bus, car, sleeper train, jeep, bicycle rickshaw and elephant.
India lags a fair way behind the posh end of the African market in terms of tourist touchstones and there’s a bit too much sanitising of food for tourists in the lodges. You may escape Delhi belly, but sometimes you could murder for a decent curry. But these are minor quibbles —India is all the things you’ve ever read about and leaves you with one abiding feeling — you want to go back to scratch the surface a bit more. — Â