About an hour after sunset, the countryside around Odisha’s Kantamila village belongs entirely to the frogs. Their chorus swells from every direction during the monsoon. The soundscape is so familiar that the villagers barely notice it, until it begins to unravel. One patch of paddy falls silent. Then another. The change is almost imperceptible to a visitor, but the villagers hear it immediately. A man rushes out of his courtyard, shouting, “Hati asuchhi... hati asuchhi!” The elephants are coming.
Within moments, the warning ripples through Kantamila. For the families of the village, this is the cue to bolt their doors, switch off the lights and hope the elephants continue along their route without stopping.
The paddy fields and sal forests of Kantamila (Hindol district) and neighbouring Angul district lie on some of eastern India’s most important elephant corridors—ancient pathways used by generations of Asian elephants long before highways, railway tracks and settlements fragmented the landscape.
It’s only after darkness falls when the village reveals the invisible geography it shares with elephants. Every evening an elephant squad shadows the mammals passing through these corridors.
With torch in hand and boots laced up, Hrusikesh Naik is one of the first responders when the elephants are approaching close to the villlage. “It is not an easy job. Many of our nights are spent in the forest, waiting for elephants to pass safely without causing harm to people,” says Naik, who has spent over four years as a member of the Squad. Naik and his colleagues walk into forests, paddy fields and village lanes, shadowing elephant herds through the darkness. Their task is neither to chase nor capture the animals but to gently steer them along traditional corridors.
For people whose livelihoods depend almost entirely on farming, coexistence is often tested in a single night. “When crops are damaged, people chase the elephants for revenge, and that’s when human-elephant conflict begins,” says Naik.
When villagers go out to defecate at dawn or dusk, they often come face to face with elephants. Storing ripe mangoes and other fruits close to homes attracts them, and long stretches of solar fencing frequenty block their traditional routes, forcing them to enter villages.
The numbers reveal the the challenge. Odisha recorded 524 human deaths from elephant attacks between 2019-20 and 2023-24—the highest among all states during the period. The state also lost 624 elephants over the same five years.
But, technology is increasingly becoming their ally. Manoj Kumar Behera, a forest officer, says elephant movements are being monitored using drone cameras. “We track them closely so we can reach the village to alert people before the elephants arrive.” This advance warning often gives families the precious minutes they need to avoid dangerous encounters.
As dawn breaks, the elephants are gone. For squad, another night’s work is over. By evening, they will lace up their boots again, waiting for the moment when the frogs fall silent.