Deathtraps in place, Ranthambhore gets that Sariska feeling

NGO says 18 tigers missing since 1999; officials can’t agree on number: ‘nothing foolproof, only Almighty perfect’

6 February, 2005

Ranthambhore is not Sariska. You cannot escape pugmarks inside the park, you can sense the tigers lurking from frequent alarm calls and you can actually see them on a lucky day.Ranthambhore is not Sariska—yet.But then, you could find signs of tigers around in Sariska, too, till last year. Then, one monsoon, they vanished altogether.
It’s difficult to miss the uncomfortable signs of a Sariska in the making in Ranthambhore. Consider the warning signs:
• The number of tiger sightings, say guides and tourists, has dropped in the recent past. Forest authorities dismiss it as ‘‘rumour’’ but can’t offer any comparative data as they ‘‘couldn’t find time’’ to tabulate figures from guide feedback forms in months.
• Forest officials admit the adjoining sanctuaries—Kela Devi in the north and Sawai Mansingh in the south—are ‘‘death traps’’ and tigers stand little chance of survival when they move in those forests.
• Hardly any check on poaching by Moghiyas—tribal hunters hired by villagers to guard their fields at night. If they can get away with killing sambars, boars, even sloth bear, it is anybody’s guess if they are also trying their hand at bigger animals or guiding outsiders in.
• Hundreds of villagers enter the National Park every day—between Diwali and Holi, for anything between Rs 150-250 paid to forest guards—to collect wood and grass.
• Lakhs of pilgrims enter the core area on foot every year and are allowed even LPG supply, loud speakers and diesel generators.
• Grazing pressure is huge, particularly during the monsoons when villagers herd in thousands of cattle and settle down for the entire season.
• Forest staff is inadequate and aging; 45 posts have been lying vacant at present.
• Shortage of funds means post-monsoon repair of patrolling roads delayed for months. Vehicles donated by international agencies rust in the garage.
‘‘Nothing is foolproof, only the Almighty is perfect,’’ says Shafat Hussein, Ranthambhore's Chief Conservator.
Says his deputy Govind Sagar Bhardwaj, DFO: ‘‘Animals keep moving to the adjoining forests which are death zones with very few guards. But here, you can see our staff is on the go all the time.’’
But it seems too many people are on the go. Valmik Thapar, a member of the Central Empowered Committee constituted by the Supreme Court, visited Ranthambhore last week to prepare a report. He wasn’t amused: ‘‘With wood and grass-cutters come local poachers. And with them come outsiders who target big animals.’’
It is scary how little check is in place.
In fact, it was only after The Sunday Express reported the Sariska tragedy on January 23 that forest authorities here invited local NGOs and volunteers—they were earlier told to stay away from the park—to launch Operation Cooperation on January 26 and conducted four raids in a week. The catch? A poacher on his mobike with gun and a sambar, more poachers, sloth bear’s nails, wild cat’s hair, stock of bush meat...
Wildlife expert Fateh Singh Rathore says his NGO, Tiger Watch, has been blacklisted here. ‘‘We have photographed 25 tigers here. Dr Ullas Karanth photo-trapped 16 tigers in 1999 and 10 of those have gone missing. Another eight have vanished last year. We wanted the department to find out what happened to these 18 tigers and keep a record. And they were after us,’’ alleges Rathore.
DFO Bhardwaj has also photographed what he claims are 34 different tigers. Nine of these, officials claimed, are in Kela Devi, the ‘‘death trap’’. But the bosses can’t agree on the current number. While Shafat puts it around 40 and promises to be more ‘‘transparent’’ during the next census coming up in May, Bhardwaj pegs it between 32 and 36.
But they are non-committal about comparing their data with independent experts and settle the dispute about the ‘‘missing’’ ones. ‘‘We are not allowed inside the park so that the officials can get away with false claims. Khandar, Kundera, Sanwata, and Rajbag chowki are open bush meat markets. You burst a cracker near any chowki, see if a forest guard comes checking,’’ claims Rathore.
‘‘Just four raids and we have proved how porous the park is. Some guards and rangers often mislead the officers as no independent monitoring or research is permitted inside the park,’’ says Aditya Singh, a member of the volunteer team.
But the Ranthambhore DFO dismisses such claims. ‘‘NGOs come up with false studies and figures which don’t match our reports,’’ he says.
And the catches which his guards couldn’t pull off without volunteers? Bhardwaj grudgingly accepts some of his men have links with intruders. ‘‘But now I don’t tell many people about raid targets."
The control, however, everyone seeks in Sawai Madhopur is that of tourism. Jungle safari was controlled by the Forest Department till last year after which it was handed over to the Tourism Department. Then the DFO had dealt a blow, warning there would be no big cats left to see in five years unless the number of tourists to Ranthambhore is controlled.
That sounds hypocritical, given the free run government vehicles and guests have inside the park. Even as we talk, Bhardwaj gets three such calls in two hours: more sarkari guests are on their way.
" I am trying, sir. Things are under control,’’ he tells one of his bosses in Jaipur over phone.
Ironically, the problems of grazing or grasscutting are not visible in the tourism zone. The rest of the national park is quite unlike what the tourists see along their designated tracks. But the forest officials stick to their claims and reasons: ‘‘Grazing is zero’’ but ‘‘women from villages are a problem as we don’t have women staff to handle them’’.
Bhardwaj also lists the logistics problems: ‘‘My staff is aging. Our arms are obsolete. Since last June, we need to take permission from Jaipur even to move staff...Without rotation, the staff inside the jungle feels demotivated. But we are fighting to save the park. I’m open to everyone who wants to help us.’’