It doesn't end here. They are right when they say there isn't a problem that doesn't beset this forest. Three roads and a national highway, a very busy railway line and a canal criss-cross through this national park. There are villages, Gujar (a nomadic, pastoral tribe) settlements and an ammunition dump. There are three booming cities — Uttarakhand's capital Dehradun, and two holy towns, Haridwar and Rishikesh, plus an industrial zone and scores of ashrams jutting into it — degrading, fragmenting and devastating the forest.
But we cannot let Rajaji die; it's simply too alive. I wish they were here now, the cynics — as I walk through the Chilla range, along the nullah, skipping over stones, wading through water and treading with care to avoid obliterating the pugmarks that dot the path. Last night while we slept, the denizens of the forest were busy. There are impressions on sand —tiger, black bears, leopards, jungle cat (or is it the leopard cat?), elephants, sambar, goral, cheetal, porcupine — and the brooding presence of vultures far above, possibly signaling a kill.
For all its persistent, almost insurmountable problems, Rajaji is one of those rare places on Earth where large predators still hold their own. Where wilderness thrives a heartbeat away from ‘civilisation'.
In the conservation world, where doomsday stories are the norm, there is good news from Rajaji, even if it comes with a cautious foot note: Tiger numbers here have shown a steady increase over the past eight years, thanks to relocation. In 2002-2003, a massive effort was undertaken by the State Government to relocate Gujar deras (193 families) from Chilla (and also from other ranges). You should have seen Chilla then — nullahs reduced to fetid pools, over-grazed, dead grasslands, garbage, lopped trees and cattle everywhere. You should have seen it a year after they shifted to Ghaindikatha with access to healthcare, education and other basic facilities denied to them in the forest.
I was witness to the transformation. I met a rejuvenated forest — leafy trees hosted parakeets, treepies, hornbills and an eagle owl; clear water rushed through streams, lush meadows invited the deer and the tiger.
A study to monitor the recovery of this area by scientists from the Wildlife Institute of India documented breeding tigresses within two years of the relocation. The ‘inviolate' habitat, coupled with connectivity to the Corbett landscape — with over 200 tigers, this has amongst the highest densities of tiger — which had dispersing tigers spilling into Rajaji, ensured that the cat bounced back. By 2004, in about 150 sq km of the sampled area, camera traps captured 14 photographs of four individual tigers. The good news gets better: Within five years the tiger density more than doubled from three per 100 sq km to seven. Over the past eight years, 37 individual tigers have been camera-trapped in the same area. Tigers that were earlier captured as cubs, were now recaptured as adults, indicating that the population can now be considered — precariously — stable.
The ‘hidden eye' has revealed other secrets: Proof of the presence of rusty spotted cats, a teaser on tiger courting rituals, and tigresses — essentially solitary creatures — hanging out together, but that's another story.
This is significant news, reason enough for Rajaji to be treasured and conserved. But Rajaji's importance also stems from other factors, not least of which is the fact that it is the north-westerly limit of the tiger and the elephant, and is the western edge of the Shivalik-Gangetic landscape, an area identified as key to long-term tiger conservation.
Rajaji also has tremendous potential, with high prey density, over 20 sambar —the tiger's favoured diet — per sq km. Food availability, a key factor that determines tiger density, is clearly not a constraint. This means Rajaji can have more tigers, especially in the western part, and herein lies another complex issue.
The western part, over 550 sq km, has the potential to hold at least 30 tigers, but currently it has just two tigresses. There are no males here. There are tigers on the eastern side, but they are unable to cross over for the only link, the Chilla-Motichur corridor, is all but eroded by roads, railway line, canal, Khandgaon village and the Army ammunition dump.
The implications are ominous: Unless we restore this corridor the tiger is doomed in this part of the world. Relocation of Khandgaon is a priority. Land has been earmarked for the purpose and the people are keen to move out. What comes in the way is petty politics and a lack of will. Similarly, shifting of the Raiwala ammunition dump, in abeyance for over two decades, must be expedited. As mentioned before, Rajaji is linked to Corbett through the Lansdowne Forest Division, and this must be secured for the long-term viability of tigers in the Rajaji-Corbett landscape.
The alternate road through Rajaji that connects Haridwar to Rishikesh must be stopped for traffic, considering that there is a national highway that connects the two. Protection is another serious concern. The park staff is insufficient and unmotivated — wages for trackers and watchers are delayed for months. Why should it be so in the land of the tiger? The most significant step that the Government can take is to notify Rajaji as a tiger reserve. This would help bring in funds for urgent tasks and the required focus on wildlife management and protection. Read the full report here.
Source: Prerna Singh Bindra, The Pioneer.
