Another day in the woods

The forest guards behind Jim Corbett's success story are ignored and doomed to live in extremely sub-human conditions. They complain that they are considered no more than chowkidars and successive governments have turned a blind eye to their apathetic state
Akash Bisht Ramnagar

A khaki clad Ramesh Kumar Ratnakar, a forest guard, greets tourists with a smile at the Amdanada gate in the Corbett Tiger Reserve (CTR). He patiently informs them about the key points that one needs to remember while venturing into the forest, and shares stories of his encounters with the tigers in the wild. Children surround him and carefully listen to his rendezvous in the wild. After sharing couple of jungle tales, he says goodbye to the children and his colleagues and with great pride starts heading towards the forest for patrolling-a job that he has been doing for the past 25 years. Almost half his life has been spent in these woods. 

Considered as the heartland of tigers, CTR is undoubtedly a success story of tiger conservation in India. It boasts of the densest population of wild tigers in the world; the park officials take pride for being able to sustain a healthy tiger population and keep the hope alive for the survival of this noble and great species of India. 

By contrast, the real crusaders - forest guards - behind this success story are ignored and doomed to live in extremely sub-human conditions. The forests are fraught with danger. There are animals in the wild, man-eaters sometimes, and also the armed gang of poachers, out to kill the magnificent beast. 

For the conservationists and the forest officials, these faceless people are a crucial cog in the wheel for the survival of wild tigers in India. While a wash of money is being pumped into various tiger reserves, these forest guards subsist on abysmally low salaries, lack of basic amenities and bereft of recognition. 

Experts reflect that if the fate of these men does not change, the tiger conservation plans in India would not yield any favourable results. "If the base is not strong, how can you expect anything to sustain for a longer period of time," says Ratnakar. 

He is one of the several guards who have dedicated their lives to protect the flora and fauna of the forests. He calls the reserve his home and has vowed to save the animal he loves the most. However, he rues that they are considered no more than chowkidars and how successive governments have turned a blind eye to their apathetic state.

Ratnakar accepts the fact that his job is not an easy one and demands lots of sacrifices on a personnel level, but he puts it to his destiny. 

He adjusts his khaki cap and wipes off drops of sweat trickling down his forehead before narrating his dincharya (daily chores). For him the day starts at 5:00 am. He cooks a heavy breakfast, which he reckons is sufficient fuel for the whole day. He then heads into the forest on foot. Everyday he covers nearly 2,486 hectares. While patrolling the forests he is focussed on anything that raises suspicion. "In the buffer area we check whether any harm has been done to the forest produce or if there has been any human presence. We look for footprints, bicycle or vehicle tracks and if we do find any of these we follow them to ensure that no harm is being done to either the forest or animals," he informs.According to him, poachers operate between 10:00 pm and 4:00 am and it is this time that the forest and animals are most vulnerable. He follows any unwanted sound that echoes from the forest during these hours. 

While patrolling he examines tiger droppings to know what the tiger has eaten, whether the pugmarks are all uniform or is the tiger resting more often than required!