Say cheese, big kitty

Tiger safaris have become less about appreciating the big cats than about getting the perfect click for social media.

At Pilibhit Tiger Reserve, Uttar Pradesh (2024). | Photo Credit: Dhiraj Singh

Tiger, tiger everywhere, not a tiger to be seen...

Many of us have had this feeling during tiger safaris. To the intrepid traveller, ready with their foot-long lenses to shoot the tiger, nothing can be more disappointing. After all, why spend lavishly on a trip if there is no picture to show for it? It is as if a tiger safari is justified only if it throws up numerous images of the big cat, meant to be flaunted on social media. The experience does not matter so much as its digital memory, posted to get a thousand “likes”. With tiger safaris promising stunning images of the experience being promoted zealously by tourism companies, the ideal purpose of the visits—to soak in the beauty of the wilderness and perchance get a glimpse of its magic denizens—is lost. Tiger safaris have become formulaic—a spectacle meant for the crowds. If a sense of mystery and adventure is what you are looking for, don’t expect to find that in a typical tiger safari.

But there’s a lot of excitement, nonetheless. On the night before the outing, the dinner talk would be all about expected encounters with the felines, dream frames for the best photographs, and stories of famous sightings by other photographers in this forest. Fuelled by the adrenaline, waking up at the ungodly hour of 4 am would be a breeze. There would be instructions on the correct amount of water to be consumed so that the bladders do not start leaking in the middle of the forest.

Ready to shoot

The travellers flock to the safari jeep at 5 am sharp, wiping the dew from the seat covers, jostling with one another for the best seat. Everyone prods the driver to go faster so that they can be the first at the forest gate. At the entrance, as formalities are completed, the “shooters” put on their battle gear—hat, sunscreen, bandana mask. The big lenses are brought out and the cameras are checked. Some sneer at nearby jeeps with amateurs wearing bright red T-shirts and carrying mobile phones for photography.

Two tiger cubs play in a waterbody at Belara Buffer Zone, Tadoba National Park, Maharashtra (2024). | Photo Credit: Dhiraj Singh

As soon as the gates are opened, the jeeps rush in. They kick up plentiful dust, which mixes with the morning mist to create a haze. There are collective sighs and moans from tourists as their jeep passes by yet another waterbody with no tiger in it—the expectation is that the tiger will be soaking in the bathtub, ready to pose whenever the humans arrive.

The experts show off—spotting pug marks, sniffing the wind for smells of a kill—and whisper that a tiger was nearby. It always is, just not visible...

At Kishanpur Wildlife Sanctuary, Uttar Pradesh, 2024. | Photo Credit: Dhiraj Singh

The faces in every passing jeep have a similar look—tired, frustrated, hopeful. Quick words are exchanged: “Did you see anything?” FOMO, or the Fear of Missing Out, hangs heavy in the air. By chance, if a face wears a broad smile indicating a darshan of the elusive big cat, then glances dripping with envy and silent curses are directed at it.

The drivers and guides show off too, exchanging secret intelligence whenever their paths cross. They always part on the words, “Let me know if you see something.” Yes, they do let you know, but only when the tiger has vanished. So that, when you arrive at the spot where the tiger was supposedly sunbathing just a second ago, there is a murmur of collective sympathy, “Oh, you just missed it!”

Hits and misses

If a tiger is spotted, all hell breaks loose. The most graceful of ladies, the most charming of gentlemen turn into Tarzans, fighting for the best position, jumping from one jeep to the other without touching the ground. The rules of successful sighting are stretched wide to include a tiger seen from several hundred metres away or a glimpse of just the tip of its tail. Some get to spot the secretive leopard and try to convince everyone that it is better than a tiger sighting. If you get to see the melanistic leopard or the black panther, then you are Luck personified.

The famous tigress Riddhi at Ranthambore National Park, Rajasthan (2023). | Photo Credit: Dhiraj Singh

For the unfortunates who could not see any cat, big or small, there are peacocks, deer, langurs, wild boars, owls, bison, elephants, wild dogs, and sloth bears. If these too choose to hide their faces, consolations are exchanged: “It is all about enjoying the journey.” The unfortunate travellers take photos of trees, sunrise, and sunset, with broken hearts. Some argue that the name of the forest should be changed from “tiger reserve” to “peacock reserve”.

As the safari comes to an end, men wear the look of kings coming back from hunts while women wear a resigned look, waiting for the ordeal to end. Children, often hungry and irritable, end up making all kinds of animal sounds to impress their parents and get only deep scowls in return. The eternally enthusiastic say “Better luck, next time” to themselves and their co-travellers, while the pessimistic ones snore in the jeeps.

A leopard in Kabini, Karnataka. Leopards are more famous than tigers here. | Photo Credit: Dhiraj Singh

Back at the resort, as night falls, the drinks are out and fables are exchanged—the near misses, the unbelievable sightings, the tiger who killed a villager recently, and how the CCTV once captured a tiger prowling right there in the hotel premises. While those who had a sighting boast about it breathlessly, the unlucky section hopes that they will find the tiger outside their bedroom window the next day. And so the cycle continues, with each day renewing the fantasy sold by travel companies.

Dhiraj Singh is a CEO, a passionate wildlife photographer, and the author, most recently, of Owl Out. His wildlife pursuits are documented in www.jungle.photography