The Portrait of a Morning Elephant Safari
It’s a nippy February morning and the fragrance of wet grass hangs heavy in the air. A soft, balmy winter sun appears from behind the eastern hills and imparts a golden hue to miles and miles of elephant grass that spread out to as far as our eyes can see. A flat sheet of mist stretches across the horizon; the hills and the tree-tops seeming to levitate above it.
We sit perched on the elephant saddle swaying side-to-side, lumbering across the flat plains. We crane our necks, tug out our binoculars and keep our cameras handy – all with the eager expectation to spot the legendary Indian one-horned rhinoceros; we have all come here to see.
As we trudge through the wild grass, we are accosted by variety of deer – swamp deer, hog deer, sambar – some of them curiously gaping at us. A click or two, and we decide to move on.
I strain my ears to hear the sounds: the chirp of birds, the occasional low-decibel rumble of the elephant we are riding, the faint rustle of grass, – and also the murmur of the elated tourists riding on elephant-back at a distance. The surroundings seem blissfully tranquil as the lazy forest wakes up. I try to take in as much of it, hoping if I could take some of it back home.
We turn around a thicket and the mahout riding the other elephant makes a gesture to ours. Something seemed to have shot into sight, he gesticulated with his fingers! Our mahout tugs at Padmini, his elephant and daughter, and we make a quick dash. Suddenly, a full-grown adult rhinoceros comes into view. Majestic, solitary and somewhat grotesque – the Indian one-horned rhinoceros was once abundantly found across the entire Indus-Ganga-Brahmaputra basin, but excessive hunting reduced their natural habitat extensively. As shutter bugs go on a clicking frenzy, the animal becomes oblivious of our presence, turns towards us for a brief moment and then quietly walks away into the dense foliage. We get the hint: the animal doesn't want to be disturbed!
A mixed sense of excitement and contentment overcome the chattering tourists: we have finally spotted the legendary one-horned rhino in the wild. Our pachyderm Padmini marches on. By now, the sun is well above the horizon, and paints a pale yellowish-green glow to the carpet of elephant grass. Our mahout points out how the entire swath of wild grass will be burnt down in March to make way for new ones during monsoon – and how during monsoons, the entire flat plains get flooded by the raging Brahmaputra (it helps to know that Kaziranga is flanked by the Brahmaputra river to the north).
The Flora, Fauna and Forest Folklore
Kaziranga is a beautiful park and a nature’s bounty. Spread over 440 sq. km, it has 2/3rd of all surviving one-horned rhinoceros, the world’s largest number of white-water buffaloes and the world’s highest density of tigers. Yes, you read it right – the world’s highest density of tigers! We couldn’t spot any during our stay but hardly matters. Kaziranga is a jewel in the crown amongst all forest reserves in India in terms of its rich biodiversity and effective conservation efforts.
Its flat terrain, wide vistas, the hills (i.e. Karbi-Anglong) along the eastern and southern fringes, blossoming silk-cotton trees, numerous water bodies and crisscrossing rivulets make it more picturesque than other national parks
I have seen so far (i.e. Corbett, Rajaji, Silent Valley, Bandhavgarh, Betla). Anywhere within the park, it offers over 4 sq. km of expansive view. That makes it more breathtaking than many of the dense, moist deciduous forest reserves in India.
In my opinion, there is one more thing that makes Kaziranga different – they let you be! Tiger reserves in other parts of the country have become breeding ground for deliberated jungle folklore – of man-eating tiger tales, of disappearing cattle, of creepy encounters, so on and so forth! All this sensationalism is fed by forest officials and guides to eager tourists, ever willing to dole out more money or make unwarranted compromises in the hope of spotting the elusive tiger. Kaziranga, on the contrary, feels more natural – stories narrated only if probed, less obstructive forest officials (we did a 3.5 hour jeep safari deep into the wild), and never an effort to extort money for any game-spotting. You will be somewhat taken aback by how well some of the seemingly-reticent safari guides know about the flora and fauna; so do make an effort to strike a conversation with them.
The Wild Grass Lodge
The car swerves to the right and takes a sudden detour from the NH37. The narrow path, lined by bamboo hedges and low-rise thatched houses, takes one by surprise. In a minute or so, a beautiful quaint lodge comes into view. With its warm wood-paneled flooring, large airy windows, stuffed deer, high sloped ceilings with ventilators and period furniture, Wild Grass evokes the unmistakable reminiscence of old-world British-era hunting lodges. So authentic in its ‘hunting-lodge’ feel that in spite of being told that it isn’t, my mind refuses to register.
The food on the menu card is quintessentially Chinese or mainstream Indian to cater to, seems like, “popular demand”. We insist on authentic Assamese food, though – Fried Banana Flowers (highly recommended), Smoked Fish ‘Paturi’ (i.e. in Banana Leaf; good), a local Pork Curry (average) along with rice and some yellow lentils. The food is wholesome and very mildly spiced. The staff is courteous but somewhat shy and slow. If you have to try some local dishes and flavors, you must insist on the waiter!
Wild Grass is an amazing place to stay – calm, relaxing, reasonable, good food and full of character. It is close to the Kaziranga central zone, which I believe has some of the highest animal sightings. There are other resorts closer to the Eastern and the Western zones. It might help to do a bit of research beforehand to find out which of the zones have seen the highest tiger and rhinoceros sightings in that season, and plan one’s stay accordingly.
