Kanha Diaries Part 3.3: First Night and Dorm-Alone

The shrill bark of a spotted deer (chital) made me freeze. I had a morsel of tandoori chapati and chole curry standing still an inch away from my mouth. By then, the guide had told me about "alarm calls" that various animals give out when they see or sense danger . Chital, for example, raise an alarm only when a predator such as a tiger, leopard, or a pack of red dogs called dholes in Hindi is close by. Fowls such as peacocks and jungle cocks raise an alarm when they spot smaller predators such as jackals or even snakes. These calls have a distinct sound, different from their regular calls. All this information was fascinating, but at that moment, as the solitary guest in the Kisli tourist hostel, I must admit that a chill went down my spine, and it was not only because of the end-November chill of the Central Indian plains.

Colours of sunset at Kisli, Kanha National Park

Colours of sunset at Kisli

The lone light bulb in the dormitory

Another bark echoed, followed by a third. The caretaker at the canteen casually strolled up to the doorstep and stood  with his hands tied behind his back. He casually looked in the direction of the alarm calls, which he told me came from the Kisli meadows not far away.

'Could it be...a tiger?' I asked, the morsel still waiting in my hand, curry dripping out of my fingers.
'Tiger, leopard...could be anything sahib,' he said, smiling brightly like most men in these parts did, I noticed. 'By the way, Kisli is largely leopard territory because they get driven out by the bigger cats from the core areas of the forests.'

Spooked and exhilarated at the same time, I wolfed down my dinner and joined him at the doorstep. We stood in the patio; I didn't dare to step out of the light zone that the fluorescent light. All of a sudden, in the surrounding darkness, I saw several gleaming eyes, like stunned fireflies, staring at us.

'Dholes?' I asked.
'No sahib, these are deer!' the caretaker said, pointing his flashlight at the shiny eyes. I could make out the spots of deer hide and relaxed. 'They are also scared and are looking in the direction of the alarm calls. Now sahib, you go to your bed in the dormitory. I've to close the canteen and go home.'

'You...going home? In this darkness?' He had a house in this wilderness? I simply assumed he slept in the canteen!

He pointed towards the mud houses behind the canteen and said that was where his house was.

'Hey, why don't you join me in the dormitory? There are so many beds and I'm the only one in that building!'

He smiled again and said that he was not allowed to do that.

'But who is going to know? There are no human beings around here in a radius of 3 kilometres!'

'No sahib,' he said. 'There are people here. This is Kisli village where many forest guards, mahouts, and their families live. Behind the dormitory is the Baghira Log Huts hotel. There are many guests over there. You don't worry sahib. I'll walk you to the dormitory and you lock the door once you get in. I'm sure you are going to sleep only now? There's nothing else to do. No TV, no phones.' Mobile phone networks were several miles away from Kanha National Park. Mobile data, 2G and 3G was the stuff of sci-fantasy fiction.

I didn't want to appear as a completely sissy fellow, so I took the offer and he walked me to the dormitory. He told me how I could find a seat in one of the jungle bound jeeps in the morning and that I should be there at the check post by 5:30 am. Then, he walked away, leaving me behind all alone in the dormitory, in the core area of a REAL jungle teeming with wildlife! When I asked for adventure, I didn't expect so much of it on the first day itself.

Earlier That Day

I'd reached Kisli after a 4-hour ride from Jabalpur in a rickety bus at noon, just in time for a sumptuous lunch. The food in the hostel canteen, I must mention, is simple but delectable vegetarian fare with an essence of deja-vu of home-cooked meals in it. If all vegetarian restaurants would serve meals like that, I would gladly hop from one vegetarian restaurant to another every weekend.

The caretaker took me to the dormitory building, a single-storey structure with a long, semi-circular veranda in front. There are three large rooms of eight beds each. There were two families in the first room in which I was given a bed. The middle-aged couple from Nagpur and the Majumdar family of four from West Bengal. Mr. Majumdar, a garrulous man in his late thirties, immediately signalled to his dusky and beautiful wife - in Bengali - to lock away all the cash and jewellery and hand him the keys. He also told his preteen daughter, whose bed was next to mine, to switch her bed with his. I don't speak Bengali but I do follow it, especially if the speaker isn't a fast talker. Majumdar babu wasn't one, and was excessively loud. I was amused, but didn't show it.

'You are phrom...?' he asked me.
'Mumbai,' I said. He shook hands vigorously and went on to tell me about his Madhya Pradesh trip in general and Kanha in particular.
'All lies they tell, okay?' he said. 'We hab done 3 safaris already but hab not see one tiger! Now we are doing evening safari. You are coming? Letsee if you is habing the good luck.'

The caretaker pointed out to a backdoor, where there was another corridor that had bathrooms and privies at both ends. As soon as we stepped into the corridor, a green tree snake fell out of the roof in front of us.

'Does this happen inside the dorm too?' I asked gingerly.
'Oh no no sahib. You can ask them. This is a very rare incident.'

Well, I'd wanted adventure and had chosen to live in the core area of Mowgli country, so I couldn't complain. This was what I'd wanted. So if an indoor snake rain is what I was up for, so be it.

I joined Majumdar babu and his family on the evening safari, my first in a forest and probably the worst, for Mr. Loudmouth wouldn't shut up. 'Why no tiger is there here? There? And there? On the trees? Behind the rocks? In our Jaldapara, we are seeing tiger and elephant always! This is a big conspiracy. There is no tiger in Kanha. All lies!' While we passed through some lovely woods and meadows, all we saw were deer and peacocks. And a gaur or Indian bison. After an exasperating drive, we returned to Kisli at sunset. That was when I noticed all the guests at the dormitory, including Mr. Majumdar's family, pack their bags. Cabs had arrived to pick them up.

'Y'all going? Does that mean I'll be alone in the dorm?'
'Nothing to worry Mr. Sandeep. There are no tigers here. Only lies!' said Mr. Majumdar.
'We're fed up of this man,' his old mother, wrapped in woollens of all sorts from head to toe, poked her wrinkled face out of her monkey cap, and said. 'I pleaded with him not to take me out in this cold to a forest, but he just wouldn't listen!'

The family from Nagpur offered to drive me out to Khatia gate where the private hotels and lodges were situated. 'If you feel safer outside the core forest, we can take you there. I can imagine how scary it would be to stay all alone in this place with all kinds of animals around.'

One by one, the jeeps drove off with the families, leaving me behind at the doorstep of the dormitory. I shook my head in disbelief, locked the dorm door, and hurried to canteen, about 300 metres away from the dorm building.

Fear of the Dark

Of course I had the constant fear that something's always near. Iron Maiden's guitar riffs in my head did nothing to allay the trepidation in my heart. To make matters worse, the biting cold was something I wasn't accustomed to. Every now and then, a thud on the corrugated-sheet rooftop made me jump in my bed, but I knew they were only langurs, monkeys, scampering about. The rich sounds of the jungle pierced through the cement walls and rang aloud in my ears. I kept my ears corked for a roar or growl, but heard none - fortunately! Thankfully, tired after the five-hour bus ride and also owing to the fact that I had been awake since 4 AM that morning, I fell asleep with the light in the dormitory room still on.

Jeeps arriving before dawn for the morning safari. Pic courtesy: Ankur Nagar

I survived the night. Early in the morning, armed with my flashlight and toilet paper, I slunk into the privies, piled on additional warm clothes on me, and stepped out as the first light of day touched the Eastern horizon above the canopy of sal trees. And, in the clearing right outside the dormitory, there were three gaurs looking back at me! I locked the door and, without directly looking at them again, marched towards Kisli gate in the hope of finding company for a trip into the jungle. That was where I met Jorge and Ricardo, two Costa Rican boys, who were to stay with me at the dormitory for the next couple of days. They arrived late the previous evening, which was why they weren't let into the core area of the forest. They spent the night in a lodge right outside Khatia Gate. Motel Chandan, Jorge said, and I remember the man who had handed me a brochure of Motel Chandan back in Mandla at the bus stop. A day later, Tim from Britain joined us. On day five when I was ready to leave on the afternoon bus to Jabalpur, Tim said to me: I'm going to be alone tonight, I reckon?

I smiled and wished him luck.