There’s more to Agra than the Taj Mahal. A lesser-known bear rescue centre lies just off the city. As different as chalk and cheese, the two spaces are held together by a common chord: love.
Established by Wildlife SOS in 1999, the Agra Bear Rescue Facility (ABRF) lies within the Sur Sarovar Bird Sanctuary. It is the largest sloth bear rescue centre in the world. Those who grew up in the 70s and 80s may remember the madari, better known as kalandar, who walked dusty highways with their captive bears who danced to their drum-beat for a few paise. Little did we pay heed to the plight of those dancers. But in 1997, activists Geeta Seshamani and Kartick Satyanarayan conducted a survey that did just that.
A wildlife biologist and the managing administrator of the facility, Baiju Raj says, “According to the Wildlife Protection Act of 1972, bears were entitled to the same level of protection as tigers, but this law wasn’t being enforced and hundreds of bears were poached and tortured every year. It was the survey that first shed light on the inhuman treatment of the sloth bears.”
Raj explains that there are about 12 tribes in India who earn a living by exploiting different animals; the Kalandars were a community that relied on sloth bears for their sustenance. It is a mode of living that they had kept alive for over 400 years.
Raj reveals the process of transformation from a cub to a street-dancer: Thousands of sloth bears roam free in the forests of central and southern India. As night falls, the mothers leave the cubs in search of food. Poachers then swoop in to grab the cubs. If the mother walks in on the abduction, she is killed. The cubs are dumped in gunny bags and brought to ‘civilisation’. Their canines are pulled out, without anaesthesia; the muzzle is pierced and when sore, a rope is passed through it. The male bears are castrated. With these inhuman processes, the ferocious animal is made submissive. They are then taught to move to the drum. Kalandars hit them with sticks and sharp objects when training them. The bears live in tiny, dirty cages that leave them susceptible to disease. They often contract tuberculosis and succumb to it.
Raj knows every bear. There’s Amar, who misses Akbar and Anthony. From Chhattisgarh, the trio were inseparable, a rarity given the the species’ solitary nature, but two succumbed to cancer. Amar refuses to mix with other bears.
Bobby, a 10-year-old rescued from Jharkhand, shies away from cameras. “The camera is what they associate with their days as dancing bears,” Baiju explains.
The bears here cannot be rehabilitated into the wild. “When poached as cubs, robbed of their mother’s milk, their immune systems don’t develop. We keep up their strength with a special diet and supplements. Lack of canines leaves them defenceless in the wild. Some are even blinded having been repeatedly struck with sticks,” says Raj.
It’s easy to see Kalandars as villains, but it’s the only profession they’ve ever known. Wildlife SOS realised early on that the path to change was by working with them. “We make them sign an agreement with the forest department wherein they state that they will never again use/abuse a wild animal. They are then given vocational training and a start-up fund towards a new life,” says Raj. The men may be taught to drive and be given funds towards an auto-rickshaw; some are trained to work with animals, and many among the staff at this centre belong to the Kalandar community. The women are taught to sew or embroider. The organisation pays for their children’s education.
It was this comprehensive plan that saw Wildlife SOS start four bear rescue centres across India, with Agra being the first. Wildlife SOS has helped rescue 627 bears. And with their efforts, the dancing bears practise ended in India in 2009.