Not wanting to waste a single minute of our brief stay, Mr.R and I took off early to Sanjay Gandhi National Park or commonly known as Borivili National Park. We had heard good things about the park, the website was very encouraging and the prospect of seeing Kanheri Caves and its history was quite enthralling. To Mr.R, it perhaps seemed too good to be true to have such a treasure in Mumbai, surrounded by hundreds of buildings, new and old. We were hoping to see a leopard or two and we didn’t mind risking our well fed limbs trekking through the forest for a glimpse.
It was too good to be true, unfortunately.
STOP! WHO GOES THERE?
At the gate, we were met by your typical churlish bureaucrats who asked us what we wanted and gave us two passes for 5/- each. There was nothing else – no information, no brochures, no maps and no interest. The story repeated itself over the two hours or so that we spent in this so called national park. When you enter the park, it looks little more than a municipal garden with the regulation benches. It is about 9 in the morning and there are a few young couples roaming around trying to steal a little privacy. Then there are the leftover joggers and walkers going home. It’s starting to get hot.
When we ask for brochures at the main gate we are told to go to the Nature Interpretation Centre (NIC) where details are available. The khaki shirts conveniently forget to tell us many other things – like the fact that all their offices don’t open before ten. And that there is a bus that starts from the main gate and takes you upto the caves for a fee, if you don’t want to walk up all the way. Perhaps out of sheer spite, or just regular laziness, they let you walk up a mile to the office to find out that the government servants will come in at ten.
We see signs for an Admn. Office nearby. That too is closed. Ten o’clock is too far away to wait. We walk on, quite fed up already – or atleast I am. This morning is not turning out as expected.
MORE SIGNS, NO LUCK
A little further on, we spot a sign for Tiger/Lion Safari and we are quite excited. I didn’t know that the National Park had lions in the wild so it seems like a good thing to do. Half a mile later, we reach the safari office. Another khaki shirt, tobacco and all, looks us up and down and when we ask for details (he doesn’t offer any), he tells us that there is a bus which takes people into the forest. The charges are 30/- per person, but there have to be a minimum of 10 people, or the bus won’t go. This is frustrating. It is the middle of the week and its exam time. The probability of 10 people turning up so early was quite low. We hover around, praying that more people turn up. The office has a sort of exhibition area with posters of animals and information of the jungle – nothing great and the Formica is strictly grey Government Issue (such things are important in the final scheme of things.) Pride of place is taken by a large laminated picture of Bal Thackeray inaugurating the Tiger Safari. Perhaps the link between the tiger and the SS was too corny to ignore. Perhaps they were in power then. I just hope that the SS has a nicer fate than that of those poor animals. One would think that the SS would take care of their proud symbol – but apparently it’s just meant for face value – all lip service, as they say.
We were then offered the option of, ahem, buying all 10 tickets and then the bus would take us anyway. The trip seemed to be disintegrating right before our eyes and to salvage it, we decided to shell out for the 10 tickets and just go. Fortunately, two guys turned up out of nowhere and paid for their tickets, so we bought eight. The bus was a rickety sort of mini-van. The windows were barred just incase a hungry tiger or two decided on a change in menu. We were eager to get going. This was going to be fun. We hoped we could spot some wild beasts majestically sunning themselves in the forest or taking a walk.
Off we went, Mr.R right near the driver, looking out, not wanting to miss a thing. We saw a few birds atop the skeleton of a tree. The terrain into tiger country got progressively drier, the monsoons a far cry away. Trees were bare, dry, brittle leaves cascading gently onto a parched earth. There was no grass to speak of, and the wilderness was just a little thatch of overgrown trees; the high green fence clearly visible at all times. I had expected the enclosure to be much much larger – maybe it would get bigger as we progressed and we’d soon see the much awaited beasts.
And what a sight it was.
TIGER, TIGER, BURNING BRIGHT
Inside an enclosure a few acres wide, stood a ghastly single stories cement enclosure. It was like one of the shanties you see dotting streets all over the city. Tiny windows let in oxygen, but not much sunlight. We wondered what was happening. The bus ground to a halt and to our surprise, the driver began honking loudly. Very loudly and persistently. It was annoying. Was he trying to get some tiger’s attention, we thought with a frown. It turns out the ghastly enclosure housed the eight tigers. He was honking to get the attention of these teenage boys who stay around the periphery of this ‘house’ to signal that they let out some tigers. And that my dear friends, was the SAFARI. The Tigers and Lions are kept in a cramped enclosure. They are let out two or three at a time when every bus comes along on its safari round. They are fed only in the enclosure, so the beasts are trained to come back when they are hungry. Talk about captivity and they call it a national park! We expected that the cats would be in the wild – a place they could call their own, relatively safe from encroachment and where they could live and breed in peace. What a joke. The park is a national shame. The teenage caretakers threw stones at the tigers (from a safe distance) trying to get them to come closer to the bus. The driver honked to get their attention. Mr.R and I looked at each other, experiencing many emotions all at once – anger at the way the animals were treated, annoyance at the attitude of the employees, sadness and disappointment at this travesty. This was not what we came to see. This is not what any of the bus-load of tourists that come each day expects either. It is appalling. (Pictures soon).
A few minutes away, the Lion ‘safari’ enclosure begins. The story repeats itself. We were ‘shown’ a Lion and a Lioness. The Lion had an injury and Mr.R thought he had a cataract in one eye. The driver thought that they fought among themselves and thus got hurt. I think that the animals are poked and prodded by the ignorant little men who take pride in hurting a powerful but strangely powerless animal.
We were dropped back to the safari office and we walked off without a word. A bus-load of school children waited for the next round. You can imagine the racket they would make. But it wouldn’t be as bad as the drivers honking, I guess.
ALL CAVED IN
Disappointed and upset, we walked back toward the main entrance and decided to see if we could walk the distance to the caves. It was still only about 10 am. The road to the caves is bordered with shanties, garbage, a river of plastic bags, children and animals frolicking in the filth. We walked, saying to ourselves, perhaps it will get better. We walked, past a sign that advised parents to keep their kids close to them after 6.30 pm because leopards would come. Sounded like a ‘Gabbar Singh’ threat to me. The poor leopard. The species will be wiped out anyway if they are confined to parks like these.
Wondering whether we were lost, we stopped to ask an old man if we were on the right road. He confirmed it and told us it would take about an hour and fifteen minutes to reach the caves. And he warned us to be careful as people were often mugged on the road further down as the population thinned out and the road got deserted. That’s what my mother said too, referring to news reports. He also warned us that the caves stank of urine. It was okay from a distance but people used it as a free public toilet just like they do at Elephanta and perhaps all the caves and sites of national ‘heritage’. There was no sign of the bus from the main gate which was supposed to go to the caves. There were no signs. Period.
We walked ahead a few minutes then took stock of our situation. We decided, wisely, I think, not to waste our time walking any further and risking it.
DOWN BUT NOT OUT – THE PARK, LIFE AND US
Perhaps we’ll be back another day when we’ve figured out the bureaucracy of the place. Perhaps we’ll wait till they get their act together. Or will it be too late by then? The eight tigers and the eleven (we saw two) lions might be long dead by then. The caves, already desecrated, may not be worth driving upto. The nature trail will be consumed by plastic bags in the years to come.
I know a few of my readers will write back or perhaps think vehemently that I always write negatively about the city and its spaces. To these I say, go to the National Park and see for yourself. A true MW will be heartbroken. So what can you do about it instead of cribbing, you say? To that I say, I don’t know. All I know is that I was upset enough to register my protest in writing. I have written to the newspapers, WWF, Ministry of Environment & Forests and the Forest Department of Maharashtra (am looking for more people to write to) expressing my horror at the way the park is maintained, presented and preserved. We can do much better. Even the khaki shirts are capable of better. But as Mr.R says, the vision has to come from the top – only then things may change.
I don't know if my letters will make any difference, but it's a start. A voice in the wilderness is still a voice. Perhaps more will join in.
Lessons learnt from this trip:
- “Safari’s” mean different things in different countries. In Mumbai, it means caged animals that are let out when the visitors come. That way you are guaranteed a sighting, I guess.
- Lower your expectations.
- Don’t believe websites.
- Do the best you can to make a difference. Protest if you feel strongly enough about the shabby state of affairs.
- Don’t waste your breath dealing with the khaki shirts. They don’t care about the animals or about you.
That tiger news item 
