Beasts of the Periyar

I lifted both my arms this time to avoid getting scratched by the needle-like grasses which reached up to my shoulders. I tried not to pant too loudly and keep up with the group. The three forest rangers were far ahead, leading the way. Despite the humps of loads they were carrying on their backs, they were prancing as effortlessly as agile chitals.

It was then that the signal was passed down to stay put and keep still. The overture of dry rustlings stopped. The resonant hush that followed was magnified by the nosy gaze of the sun and the sweat beads that were making their way rebelliously down my temple.

I tiptoed on my tired boots, making unfortunate soil crunching noises. The rangers stood five metres apart from each other. Heads turned ten o’clock, they peered ahead, like tigers that have spotted their prey.

About thirty metres in front of the first ranger, on ascending terrain, two blocks of grayish-browns stood out, like boulders encircled and caressed by the swaying grassland.

We watched, immobilized, almost like guilty trespassers, as the pair of local inhabitants grazed peacefully. I caught sight of the sickles on their crowns.

The breeze was comforting. Inevitably one of the Indian gaurs turned its head, followed by the other. For a while I was mesmerized by their unspoken acknowledgement of us. Dark eyes hidden, white snouts alert. Glistening horns raised high.

Upon the realization of company, the peaceful silence was mauled. The gaurs thrashed their way angrily upwards into the safety of the dense canopy, to be hidden from our stares forever. It was over within seconds. The rangers retreated. I started breathing again.

Later downhill we savoured local mangoes. It was a sweet treat for my fatigued self. The rangers spoke among themselves. I have settled comfortably in the backdrop of a different tongue and culture. But it was a pair of gaurs that reminded me there was a huge part of the world I have yet to comprehend.