Chasing Tigers (Badly): A Day on Safari in Ranthambore

Looking for tigers is not something that features in my usual weekly schedule. I don’t pop out for milk, pick up the dry cleaning, and casually scan the horizon for stripey predators. And yet, there we were: on safari near Ranthambore, the very place where Katy Perry and Russell Brand got married (at least that was what I was told – I wasn’t personally invited). Whether that’s a glowing endorsement or a cautionary tale is… open to interpretation.

A Hotel Straight Out of a Jungle-Themed Dream

Our hotel was doing its absolute best impression of a boutique jungle retreat—rubber trees, manicured lawns, twinkly lights. It was a “luxury wilderness”, replete with swimming pool, bars and restaurant. Even the bedspreads had tigers on them. Step outside the gates, though, and you were instantly back in the glorious chaos of an Indian town: mud, potholes, honking traffic, and the kind of sensory overload that makes you question whether your travel insurance covers bewilderment and accidentally falling under a tuk-tuk.

The Dawn Patrol

At 6:30 a.m., we clambered into our open-top charabancs—essentially safari buses with the insulation properties of a colander. Wrapped in blankets and optimism, we rattled toward the jungle as dawn crept over the hills. The town looked nicer in the dark – it obscured the general untidiness of the town and, especially, the idea that nothing was finished, nothing completed, and that it was built out of plastic rubbish.

At the entry point to the safari, Richard and I made the only sensible purchase available: tiger hats. Because obviously you can’t find tigers unless you’re wearing the correct headgear. All zoologist types swear by them.

The Jungle That Wasn’t

If you’re imagining lush greenery, vines and monkeys swinging through the canopy, adjust your expectations. Indian jungle, at least in this corner, looks more like a slightly neglected country park: dusty trees, dusty ground, dusty everything. Not a monkey in sight. Not much evidence of tigers either.

To keep the tigers happy, only certain zones are opened each day, with strict limits on visitors. The tigers definitely know this. I’m convinced they gather at the boundary lines, sipping chai, watching the jeeps go by, and smiling quietly to themselves, through big white teeth.

Tracks! Hope! Mild Delusion!

“Look! Tiger tracks!” our guide announced, pointing at some very convincing footprints in the sand. They led ahead. It could only be a moment before we could spot a tiger sauntering along, tail twitching in the morning mists, a knowing smile on its face. It knew what we had come for and it was determined….not to show up.

The jungle fell eerily silent. A watery sun pushed through the clouds.

We chased the shadow of a tiger.

The tiger did not come for tea – or for lunch or breakfast. The tiger was NOT AT HOME.

The Consolation Prize Tour

After a few hours of tiger-free wandering, our guide shifted into morale-boosting mode.

“Look! A bird!” “Yes, another bird!” “A deer!” “Another deer!” “A special antelope—look, it’s sort of blue!” “More deer!”

At one point he became very animated about a termite mound. We stared at it with the intensity of people who desperately wanted something – anything - to move. Or to wiggle. Even to creep. The termites, naturally, refused to perform. It was nice and warm inside their burrow. Contrast with us outside….

Final Score: Tigers 1, Humans 0 (Emotionally, at least)

By late morning we retreated to the hotel, slightly windblown, frozen and disappointed. The afternoon safari delivered more of the same: humans 35, tigers 0.

For a hungry tiger, we would have made a fine banquet.

Tigers may burn bright in the forests of the night for some people, but they remained resolutely dimmed if not entirely extinguished for us.  

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tigres Insequentes (Perperam): dies safariensis in Ranthambore

tigres quaerere non est aliquid quod in hebdomadario meo solito reperiatur. non exeo ut lac emam, vestes siccandas colligam, et simul oculos in horizontem iaciens bestias striatas quaeram. ecce tamen nos: in safari prope Ranthambore, eo ipso loco ubi, ut mihi dictum est, Katy Perry et Russell Brand nuptias fecerunt (invitationem certe non accepi). utrum hoc sit laudatio splendida an monitus severus… incertum manet.

deversorium quasi ex somnio silvestri

deversorium nostrum summo studio speciem amoeni receptaculi silvestris referebat—arbores caoutchucinae, prata diligenter culta, lumina micantia. “luxuria in solitudine” erat, cum piscina, tabernis, caupona instructa. stragula etiam lecti tigres depingebant. at simul ac portas transires, statim in gloriosam turbam oppidi Indiici redibatur: lutum, foveae, strepitus vehiculorum, et illa sensuum tempestas quae te cogitare facit utrum assecuratio itineraria stupefactionem vel casum sub tuk‑tuk involuntarium tegat.

vigilia diluculi

hora sexta et dimidia matutina in currus apertos ascendimus - vehicula safariensia quae eandem ac colum proprietatem insulationis habebant. in mantilibus et spe involuti, ad silvam concussi procedebamus, dum aurora super colles serpere inciperet. oppidum in tenebris pulchrius videbatur: obscurabat enim inordinationem generalem atque illam persuasionem nihil umquam perfectum esse, nihil absolutum, omnia autem ex sordibus plasticis facta.

ad portam safariae, ego et Riccardus amicus meus solam rem vere prudentem emimus: galerum tigrinum. nam, ut omnes zoologi peritissimi sciunt, tigres invenire non potes nisi capiti aptum tegmen geras.

silva quae non erat

si silvam virentem, vites, simias per frondes salientes fingis, expectationes tuas compone. silva Indiae, saltem in hac regione, magis similis erat parco rustico paulo neglecto: arbores pulverulentae, humus pulverulenta, omnia pulverulenta. ne simia quidem visa. nec multum vestigium tigris.

ut tigres felices maneant, tantum quaedam regiones singulis diebus aperiuntur, numero visitatorum diligenter definito. tigres hoc certe sciunt. persuasum habeo eos ad fines regionum convenire, chai sorbillantes, currus spectantes, et subridentes tacite, dentibus albis micantibus.

vestigia! spes! paululum delirationis!

“ecce! vestigia tigris!” dux noster clamavit, digito ad impressiones in arena spectans. vestigia recta procedebant. mox, putabamus, tigris ipse appariturus erat, lente in nebula matutina incedens, cauda vibrante, risu callido. sciebat quid quaereremus et constituerat… non apparere.

silva subito tacuit. sol pallidus per nubes emergere conatus est. umbram tigris secuti sumus. tigris autem neque ad tea neque ad prandium neque ad ientaculum venit. TIGRIS DOMI NON ERAT.

itinerarium solacii

post aliquot horas sine tigre peragratas, dux noster ad animum erigendum se convertit. “ecce avis!” “ita, alia avis!” “cervus!” “alius cervus!” “antilopa quaedam rara - ecce, paulum caerulea est!” “plures cervi!”

quadam vice de tumulo termesiorum vehementer excitatus est. nos eum spectavimus studio hominum qui aliquid – quidlibet - moveri cupiunt. vel reptare. vel saltem paulum tremere. termesii autem se ostendere noluerunt. intus calidum erat. nos autem foris…

ratio ultima: Tigres 1, Homines 0 (saltem animo)

meridie ad deversorium rediimus, paulum vento afflicti, algidi, frustrati. safari pomeridianum idem attulit: homines quinque et triginta, tigres nulli.

tigri esurienti prandium splendidum praebuimus. tigres fortasse in silvis nocturnis ardent pro quibusdam; nobis autem omnino obscurati, si non omnino exstincti, manserunt.