March 1, 1999, Monday, sunny, 16-30C

 

[19:29 @ Rm.111, Kanha Jungle Lodge]

     Another day of heavenly rest, the second of two or three forced rest-days due to the “Holi” festival.  We took maximum refuge in the park, and in the deep past.  The park gate was a time machine through which we entered a world indistinguishable from that a million years ago, life before man, except for twin-rutted park road.  We soaked ourselves in the magnificence of Kanha in both the morning and afternoon safaris.  I stuffed my camera pack full of both cameras’ and film and video cassettes.  I 

     The first one, 07:00-12:00 was in two Gypsies, I at the wheel of the new one and Chris at the wheel of the old one.  In my Gypsy were Faiyaz and 6 Manjitola kids, and in the other were Kim, Anne, and another 4 kids.  Total cost – RS.800 (C$34).  We drove up to the plateau, elevation 820 m.  The ascent and descent were through a different vegetation belt than that in the lower elevation.  I became struck again by the overflowing beauty of Kanha.  I’ve notice before that the Kanha people, Tarun and even Faiyaz included, are somewhat nonplussed by my praising the beauty of Ranthambhore and Ranthambhore over Kanha’s.  Now, submerged in Kanha’s multifaceted glory, I was captivated anew, and suddenly, Ranthambhore and Bandhavgarh seemed very far away.

     And the children?  You have to see their faces and hear their voices to appreciate what I’m saying.  They were in their own Garden of Eden.  The park drive was their own yellow brick road, no, the emerald city and the yellow brick road in one.  Even though they live right on the edge of the park, they had never seen anything like what they were seeing today.  Kanha and Manjitola, though but two kilometers distant, are worlds apart.  No goats or cows here, but a totally different set of what to them were almost mythical creatures.  And wonder of wonders, no people anywhere in sight except their little buddies in the back of the Gypsy and the friendly park guide, the kindly teacher Faiyaz and the light-skinned, long haired and enigmatic ‘Tiger Uncle” from across the oceans doing that miraculous thing – driving that fantastic growling iron animal called a Gypsy.  Speaking of oceans, the closest thing to an ocean that they had seen was the little pond behind their village and the stream that flowed past it, until now, lo and behold, this amazing body of water I would call a small lake became for them a sea.  Where the children of N. America see mermaids and dragons on movie screens, these children in my jeep see wild boar and gaur and maybe tigers in the park.  The feeling is the same, except that wild boar, gaur and tigers are real, even though the tigers may not remain real for long.  And one thing they can never guess in a million years.  In my eyes, these kids are an integral part of Kanha in my book, and certainly an integral part of my Kanha experience.

     While the kids were having a time of their lives, Faiyaz gave them an educational running commentary.   Mid-morning, we brunched at one of the huts of one of the hundred or so park guards who live in the park.  Anne said to me, “I’ve been thinking, Anthony.  So we’re two body-cells of Canada momentarily implanted into India to induce social changes in these Indian villages, and in doing so, induce social changes in India herself.  So we are agents of change to induce social evolution in a foreign country,” said Anne.  “My question here is: Are these changes actually evolution, or are is it just behaviour modification?”

     “Good question, Anne.  I think it depends on how permanent the change is?” I said.

     Faiyaz said, “It also doesn’t fit the Darwinian mode of evolution.  The tiger, or the peacock, or you or I for that matter, can’t evolve like this.  According to Darwin, a species can show visible evolutionary changes only between generations, not during the lifetime of any particular organism.  So to fit the same mode, a certain village cannot change.  It could accept the idea of the solar cooker, and pass it on to its descendent villages, which could then actively develop it into use, but the village-in-question itself could not.  If the village itself could change, it would fit into the LaMarckian mode which had been proven wrong.”

     “LaMarckian?” asked Anne.

     “Jean Baptiste de LaMarck.  A contemporary of Charles Darwin,” explained Faiyaz.  “He tried to explain the length of the giraffe’s neck by postulating that the giraffes, by trying to reach for high branches, would lengthen their necks infinitesimally during their lifetimes, and this lengthening is passed on to their offspring, which when full grown would have an infinitesimally longer neck than their parents, and they themselves would do they own reaching and lengthening and have their lengthening passed on to their own offspring, and so on.  Darwin of course took the correct course to theorize that all offspring have slightly different neck lengths due to what we now know to be genetic variation, plus the odd neck-lengthening mutations, and those with the longer necks would be favoured by natural selection for survival on a probability-over-time basis and further reproduction to have their long-necked genes passed on to future generations.”

     “I see,” said Anne.

     “So, how do you reconcile that?” Faiyaz asked me.

     “By accepting that while LaMarck was wrong where biological evolution is concerned, he was right in regards to social evolution, although I would have to point out that this applies only to human societies, not to insect societies.”

     “The human brain does it,” said Anne. 

     The afternoon safari, from 16:00 to 18:15, was driven by Tarun, with Chris C., Kim, Deleep and me aboard, and as usual, it was an exciting experience, with Tarun trying the far side of the park looking for wild dogs.  Towards the end he had to drive at over 60 kph, which was a little too fast given the road condition, trying to make the Mukki Gate by closing time, 18:00.  Still, we were late by 15 minutes and had to pay the late penalty, which was fine except for the waiting we put their gate guards through.

 

[22:39]     During dinner, Anne and Faiyaz disappeared for some time, and returned from the kitchen with a tray of dessert, on three pieces of which were stuck three lit candles.  While walking into the kitchen, they sang the Happy Birthday song.  Again I had forgotten and missed my birthday on February 25.  There was also a card, hand made by Faiyaz, with a hand coloured tiger on the cover.  Above the tiger was written: “Bara Bacha: It is a very heavy tiger.”  This is an inside joke from the Champions of the Wild video.  On the inside, it was written: “For Anthony, an inspiration to all of us who are afraid of becoming cynical in our old age!”  Signed: Anne, Faiyaz, Chris and Tarun. 

     Kim’s signature was not there, and I had to hand it to her saying, “This card wouldn’t be complete without you.”  Then, she signed it.  Kim usually keeps her opinion to herself, but when Tarun said that working with “lazy” local tribal people wouldn’t do a thing to save the tiger and I disagreed, she turned to me and said, “You are an outsider talking to somebody who lives here.  You should listen to what he has to say.”  When we went to work with the villagers in Chichrunpur, Kim did go with us, but remained very much aloof and detached.  On our way back to the lodge, she confessed to me that she was a “snob”. 

     It was Tarun himself who spoke up in my defense, saying, “We are all outsiders here.  I came from Jodpur (‘jod-POOR’) in Rajasthan, a totally different world from the tribal cultures here.  So it is just Anthony’s views against mine, and I’m willing to give Anthony a chance to prove me wrong.”  He told me later that it was he who advised Pradeep to transfer Kim over to Bandhavgarh and retain Anne here to do tiger conservation work with Faiyaz and me.  Of all the people at Kanha, Tarun is the one about whom I harbour ambivalent feelings.  I don’t totally trust him on account of his being Pradeep’s nephew, but like him very much as a person.