“Chasing angels or fleeing
demons, go to the mountains.” And it’s been how long long…5 years old memory of
a touristy Himachali holiday popped up, as I cursed every idiot at
work and my new reclining chair which I thought was the only reason beside work load for
my shooting back pain. Glued to my system in office, flashes of myself sitting
at the edge of a mountain and sipping coffee kept haunting me. As an ordinary
mortal employee I just have 34 days of holidays per year so I have to allay my
longing for the mountains during those holidays. Poor me, can’t even take a
sick leave! I exactly knew what I was going to do next! I was going to fall
sick. Of course, I have a shooting back and neck pain and can’t move my head an
inch. Next few days were frantic. Wrapping up pending meetings and reports,
catching up with a few new clients with my neck as stiff as a stone and making some
very urgent phone calls,well, I had to book my stay in advenca. Weekend approached sooner than we expected, two air
tickets to Delhi were already booked by my nature enthusiast hubby and yes, we
were super ready to take our first trip to Pangot (also called Panghoot) in the
Nainital District of Uttarakhand – the birding paradise.
It was late April, and the place
was receiving some late showers. And though it was a bit damp in the morning,
the sun peeped out happily as our journey started. It’s always nice to drive
through the valley and the meadows, the beds of greens and yellows as far as
you can possibly gape – roads lined up with towering trees on either side,
little hamlets with busy villagers getting along with the day’s chores and the
fresh smell of the morning air, that’s such a luxury for us city dwellers.
As we drove past Haldwani, there
were only hills and hills, covered with thick forests of oak, pine, and
rhododendron and paths littered with perky wild orchids. The only sounds were
the song of the birds and tyres crunching dry leaves, and we got the first
whiff of the pine-scented highlands. Ecstasy.
The best way to explore and
appreciate the splendor of Pangot is on foot. We stayed at the Ramgarh
Bungalows (Neemrana) and went for an early morning birding trail to the area (45
kms away) which was a mesh of deodar, oak and rhododendron. The trees towered over giant ferns and gleaming moss. Large mammals are usually difficult to spot
in this area. However, you are assured of seeing a variety of common and rare
birdies. Over 150 species have been recorded in this area, from flocks of
thrushes, minivets and wagtails to exotic Himalayan species such as the
Himalayan griffon, mountain-hawk eagle and the rare cheer pheasant. Sighting
uncommon birds such as the Himalayan Monal may demand a vigorous walk up to the ridges and hill tops. Regrettably, I could not walk up to the hilltop as I, by then, developed a disintegrated heel while gleefully hiking. But we came across many
endearing species, while lying in the hammock at our piece of prairie near the
bungalow with bird feeding by our side. With a pair of binoculars and a bird
book, I actually spent a whole day in Ramgarh on this delightful pursuit. The
day translated into a gratified night with bowls full of Pahari mutton —smoky
meat cooked over wood fire in ghee, whole spices and roti and slithering into
the comforters with dreamy eyes. Bliss!
We were late in leaving for our
next destination because of an elaborate brunch that included a nectar called
rhododendron juice (have you ever imagined – juice made of rhododendron, snap!)
and had to reach my most awaited destination – Jim Corbett National Park (JNP)
by noon. We had too many things on our agenda before lunch but being late. So, I decided to withhold my desire to stop the car and make good use of my new DSLR camera.
But yes I pledged, on my return, it’d be my way on this highway.
The road to JNP is a particularly
picturesque one. Almost like yesteryear Hindi movie locations, we glided
through the pinewood valleys crossing the Kosi River. It was still afternoon
when we reached our resort tucked away in the midst of a mango and litchi orchard – Tiger
Camp. It had always been the case – my
hubby’s picks on stays would beat mine at the end, I didn’t argue this time,
chuckling at the thought of hanging around like ripe mangoes from the trees –
my most preferred summer fruit, after all!
The next day was for our much
awaited safari into the Bijrani zone of JNP – we booked only one safari owing
to my bad heel condition, so, kept our finger crossed for the first time as we
somehow expected that the chances of spotting the big cat would be hard-hitting and bleak,
considering their lesser number in the area as well as us staying outside the
forest (the boarders of the government rest houses inside the forest start
their safari early and hence stand better chance of sighting).
Dhanuji was a local man of few
words but immense birding knowledge and guided us scrupulously by making us
aware not only of the old history of the forest, but its trees and particularly
birds. He had eyes of a hawk and made us feel like birding experts as we experienced some never-before moments of our life right in front of our eyes.
I am not a bird-watcher, in any
sense of the term, I keep visiting the national parks only to spot the animals
of wonders, esp. big cats, but it was only while visiting the oldest and the
first tiger reserve in Asia, Jim Corbett National Park, I was wholly absorbed into
the assortment of diverse bird songs and to my surprise, I found myself quite a
bird-lover toward the end. I learnt their names nippily once my birding guide
dhanu ji identified them to me, ‘madam, look there, a Shikra feeding on its
fresh kill, a rat – very rare, you are lucky madam!” And there were as many
goose bumps on my hands as I had when I saw the leopard in Kabini last time. I
was elated like a baby to get a glimpse of the asian paradise flycatcher for
the first time and red wattled lapwing hatching its eggs - some of which could
only be caught in memory and as luck would have it, not the camera.
Just on our way up the jungle path, a lonely tusker in 'musth'
condition loomed large. Sweat broke out. ‘Did he see us? Would he charge? Where
do we go now?’ – we kept on asking Dhanuji, he asked the driver to keep the jeep
moving on the reverse side, we were not ready, cameras shook while capturing him crushing the plants in an attacking disposition – once he looked at our vehicle and then moved on into the thickets leaving us gasping. He was huge, his eyes looked unpleasant and restless. Gobsmacked!
Seeing elephants in the wild is a raw, exhilarating experience. The Corbett Park is the best place in Northern India to observe them at fairly close quarters. Dhanuji later told us that about 300 - 350 Asiatic elephants roam around the park in herds, along the river Ramganga or foraging in the grasslands. Humans should stay away from elephants suffering from musth (the frenzied state of certain male animals, especially elephants or camels, that is associated with the rutting season) as they could be even more dangerous than the big cat.
Between the Himalayas and the Terai and the streams, rivers
and ridges crisscrossing, Jim Corbett is a residence of a spectacular variety
of landscapes - woodlands and open grasslands, forest-grassland edges,
reservoirs and mountainous terrain. This forest is beautiful in its own way and I have
one word to describe it – incredible - it breathes alive every time you try to think about it.
I didn’t care if I had a fractured heel then, and I didn’t want to lament either. And so, I pulled my socks up and hiked up to the river bed to catch the morning sun on the next day – to be witness to the mystical game played by the fog and mist – the peacocks singing at a distance – the pied kingfisher in pursuit of fly-fishing – and us sipping our last steaming black coffee of the trip. The first touch of the golden sunshine touched our body after hours of cold wind slicing the faces - we felt and fondled the warmth of the sun. The wide expanse of the forest stood in front of us - tranquil – only its colour kept changing from blue to emerald green against the blushing horizon. The sun-kissed mountains looked so deceivingly close, you disremember your own existence. You disapprove your civilization. Surreal!
Trust me, I could not feel the pain of my left swollen heel on my flight back to Delhi. All I wanted was the memory of this trip to be alive forever. I could effortlessly recall John Marsden of A Killing Frost “I'm a person of the mountains and the open paddocks and the big empty sky, that's me, and I knew if I spent too long away from all that I'd die; I don't know what of, I just knew I'd die.”
