Into the wild I go—losing the way, finding the soul. I was always attracted to the lure of the jungle, the unfamiliar terrain. After all who is not fascinated by stories of forests and wild animals on the prowl. But I confined myself to paperback thrillers and never dared to court danger. Call it providence or whatever, I once found myself in the thick of it all.
It happened way back in 1990. I was working for the Express and was assigned to cover the Nagarjunasagar-Srisailam Tiger Reserve wildlife sanctuary. Along with photographer G Ramesh, I set out for the sanctuary not knowing what lay in store. This area consists mostly of the Nallamala Hills marked by undulating topography, steep cliffs and subterranean valleys. We were warned about the danger posed by the man-animal conflict in the core area of the reserve.
It was pitch dark. The time was only 7.40 pm but all around there was a wall of darkness. The nocturnal calls of the wild could be heard—the distant howl of the jackal, the rustle of the fleet-footed deer. We were returning in a jeep after being on the tiger trail the whole day. A forest range officer, Narasimha Chary, was with us.
Suddenly the jeep screeched to a halt as the driver applied the brakes on seeing boulders placed on the track. Jungle life can be deadly—there is always something crawling, slithering or slinking here. But what emerged from the darkness were three gun-toting persons, including a woman. They brandished the weapons threateningly and ordered us to get down from the vehicle.
I thought we were gone for good. With no communication facilities available in the deep forest, we were sitting ducks. Nerves taut as cables and the nightmarish fears of being kidnapped appearing a reality, we alighted and replied to the shooting questions of the extremists. I could make out that the threesome were fully armed. The men had rifles slung over their shoulders while the woman sported a pistol and cartridge-belt. Somehow I felt they posed greater danger than the wild animals. But all my fears proved unfounded as the underground extremists, who belonged to the Bhoovanasi dalam, did no harm on knowing our identity. They merely explained their ‘movement’ and the need to provide land to the tiller.Threat gone, I whistled into the stillness of night. Then I remembered that a ship is safe in the harbour, but that’s not what it is built for.
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