Bhandhavgarh

 

Bandhavgarh

“If not you, then your memory will do.”

Spread across 1,536 square kilometres, the Bandhavgarh Tiger Reserve is the pride of Madhya Pradesh. The forest is divided into six zones, each with its own core and buffer areas. We were in the Tala zone—a compact 105 sq km region, of which only about 20 kilometres is open to tourists.

February and March are considered the best months to visit. In February, the forest transforms into a palette of dry-season colours, while in March the fresh, tender leaves light up the jungle with a luminous green glow. Summer, though harsh and dry, makes wildlife sightings more frequent as animals gather around scarce water sources and wander closer to open spaces.

But we arrived in November.

At Jabalpur, Deepak Khandekar welcomed us lovingly at the Narmada Vatika. His warmth, attentiveness and hospitality set the tone for the entire trip. The next morning, he seated all of us in a mini-bus and personally escorted us to Bandhavgarh. His arrangements were so meticulous that everything unfolded effortlessly—no one faced the slightest inconvenience.

Even Bhanu, who kept saying, “Should I really come?” eventually surrendered to our “Come on, join us!” and happily turned his no into a yes.

The First Safari

Excitement was at its peak during our evening safari. Some wanted to stop frequently, some wanted to move steadily. A few were drawn to the ancient reclining Vishnu statue carved in stone; others focused single-mindedly on spotting a tiger, tigress, or their cubs.

For two and a half hours—from three to five-thirty—we roamed the forest. We saw a few chital, heard the alarm calls of sambar, and watched the sun dip behind the sal trees. With the fading daylight, our hopes dimmed too, and we returned to the lodge.

Evening arrived with pakoras and tea, conversations flowed, colours of camaraderie brightened, and after dinner we retired for the night.

The Second Safari

This morning, braving the cold, we set off at six. We now understood that tiger sightings shouldn’t be expected—they happen only by chance. One tiger may roam across 80 sq km, while three or four tigresses, each caring for two or three cubs, occupy smaller territories of 20–25 sq km. The tiger, the true king, divides his time among them.

To see this magnificent striped cat crossing the very road our jeep passes—this is pure luck. We consoled ourselves by admiring his pugmarks, knowing that sometimes footprints are all the forest chooses to reveal.

September is the birthing season in these forests. Females of many species give birth and nurse their young for two to three months. By the time we arrived, most animals were hiding in peace and safety with their newborns—hence fewer sightings.

Friendship in the Forest

“Yeh dosti hum nahi chhodenge…”

“We shall never abandon this friendship.”

The friendship between deer and langurs is heart-warming. Deer possess a sharp sense of smell, while langurs have keen eyesight. When their shared predator—the tiger—approaches, they warn each other. Langurs, as if honouring their bond, drop fresh leaves from treetops for the deer grazing below. Their alarm calls guide forest trackers, and soon tourists rush in the direction where a tiger might appear.

But we had decided to enjoy the forest for its own harmony, not just its tiger. The dense sal forests revived us with fresh, oxygen-rich air. Alongside sal grow dhaora, baheda, tesu (flame of the forest), ghost tree, berra, Ashoka, banyan, peepal and many others, adding layers of texture and beauty. Vines twisting around trunks form shapes that resemble giant anacondas. The Charanganga stream, flowing right through the forest, enhances its charm.

The Marvels of Spiders

Our attention soon shifted to spider webs. Three or four species reside here. The three-dimensional funnel webs were astonishing, but the giant wood spider stole the show. The female is large; the male remarkably small. After mating, the female devours the male. Her strong webs can trap insects—and sometimes even small birds.

Our eyes scanned left and right. Then we thought, why not look up? Vultures —often building colonies atop rocky cliffs—kept watch. Their beaks are sharp, but unable to tear flesh; they rely on jackals to open carcasses before they swoop in. Wherever there’s a kill, they never have to wait long.

The Butterfly of Bandhavgarh

The forest campus, lined with trees and dotted with cottages, was serene when we returned from the morning safari. My eyes caught the butterflies fluttering around. Nature had painted each one like a delicate artwork. Suddenly, I noticed a particularly beautiful butterfly sunning itself on a flower. The freehand pattern on its wings—full of tiny balloon-like shapes—was mesmerizing.

I had no camera. Had I run back to fetch it, she would have flown away—indeed, she did. I searched the entire campus, checking every flower and shrub, but she disappeared—like a delicate young maiden who steals a glance at a stranger and vanishes instantly, leaving him enchanted.

Unforgettable Moments

Our evening safari turned out to be unforgettable. We had no expectations left—it was our last safari in Bandhavgarh.

Suddenly, from behind our jeep, a massive wild boar burst across the road, running for its life. Chasing it was a sub-adult tiger. We saw him—though he stopped abruptly, perhaps alerted by the sound of our approaching vehicle. Instead of continuing the chase, he turned back. His brief, coloured silhouette was captured faintly by the camera.

The sight of that terrified boar sprinting with all its might—and its miraculous escape—was unforgettable.

A little later, the shaken animal returned cautiously, gathering courage to move ahead.

The tiger must have settled down somewhere.

We waited for a some minutes… and then moved on. But one of our groups in a jeep saw the magnificent tigress walking on the parapet at the end of the day.

14 November 2025