Jungle Book Part X: A South Indian Safari

We had been living in Mysore, a small city in southern India, for about six months. We had adjusted to the rhythm of life there (well, sort of) and we were ready to hit the road. Our destination: The wildlife sanctuaries of Bandipur and Mudumalai where my husband, a wildlife biologist, was conducting research.

It was July. The monsoons had been drenching the southern part of the country for sometime and the surrounding paddy fields were soaked in water, cool and green, making it nearly impossible to imagine that just a couple of months before, they had been parched, barren and dry.

In those lands, life, more often than not, was merciless. People toiled under harsh sun and driving rain to try and make ends meet. In all likelihood, they did not know that in cities far away, things were happening. They did not know about the free market economy, about India Incorporated, about business process outsourcing. They had no idea that magazines like “Vogue” and “Rolling Stone” were launching Indian editions.

Would those things come their way? I wondered, looking at a lone woman, the edge of her faded and tattered pink sari dragging in the muddy road. Or would rural India – the important part of India – remain this way always?

Bandipur and Mudumalai, large sprawls of forest that spill over from the state of Karnataka into the neighboring state of Tamilnadu, are home to an abundance of species ranging from the simple jungle fowl to the majestic tiger. The jungle is also home to a variety of exotic birds and, alas for me who’s terrified of them, a myriad of bizarre insects.

The road leading there runs past numerous towns and villages with names like Nanjungud, Gundulpet and Mangala.