A Tiger’s Safari

After a maiden solo trek, a letter to its procreators

Dear Aayee and Baba, you will be shocked and delighted to know that I am alive and in a safe haven (hopefully).

I have decided to abandon my peripatetic adventure and to settle in Simlipal National Park (Orissa). There were favourable places along the way to make myself a home, but I was looking for companionship and security.

Much against my wishes, you drove me out of verdant Chandrapur (Maharashtra) by firing my imagination with wonderful anecdotes of a glorious past, plus fearful stories of coping with threats from not only our community, but also from those two-legged devious monsters.

I’m thankful for you having taught me staying-alive skills. It did indeed come helpful as I kept cautiously walking to find my own 25 sq km of antiquated woods. It was really tough learning on the job.

Baba was bigger than me, yes. But when I began to move out, there were giant menacing stripes that dwarfed me. I got swiped a few times and the scars are permanent. I am beyond your recognition now. I met some cute ones too (blush, blush) but no one took a liking for me. You always called me ‘chikna’.

Anyway, I remember Baba coyly mentioning Simlipal and our black-skinned relatives and you, Aayee, chastising him. Didn’t someone say there are 10? My curiosity, and a gamble, has led me here. I admit I couldn’t find love with my golden-striped ones, but I am hopeful that at least one young belle here will accept me unconditionally.

Once, during the day, I dozed off in a house while its residents were at their farm. Fortunately, I managed to escape in the nick of time.

Another time, some kids chased me with sticks, but I camouflaged beautifully in the woods and held my breath, until they went the wrong way. I got some tasty food along the way, mostly pigs and cattle that I caught without many hassles.

My swimming skills were put to the test as I had to cross at least two huge water bodies. How I wish the monsters would leave us hurdle-free passage everywhere for migration. I doubt if I will ever risk a return trip. So, we will never meet. Do take good care of yourselves. I will too, if allowed.

Yours lovingly, Gumnam (no name)