Read Part 1 Here
A tiger fight that haunts me to this day
It was January 4th, 2019. Solo was now about seven years old. I was in the Sehra grassland area of her territory when alarm calls of Sambhar deer alerted me to a big cat’s presence. In the distance, we saw a bulky figure approaching the base of a hill where Solo kept her cubs – who were just about two months old at that time. As we approached the figure, it gave itself away as a male tiger known as Bamera Son. With his fluffy winter coat and mane in full glory, he looked bigger than ever. Though a beautiful sight, I was instantly alarmed because he was not the father of Solo’s cubs and trespassing her favorite area.
Within a few minutes, he picked up on Solo’s scent, and made his way toward her cave. And then everything happened with incredible speed. In an instant flash of blood and fury, Solo came thrashing down from the hill, almost crashing into Bamera Son, the forest around seemed to be shattering with the roaring sounds of the two tigers. It felt like the ground was shaking, and my legs began to give way in the jeep. The tigers were enveloped by thick bamboo, but the fight continued harder than ever, evident from the shaking of foliage as the two tussled about. At some point, the two separated, and Bamera Son made a dash for the road, with Solo in tow. Bamera Son’s mouth was bleeding, but what I saw next haunts me till this day-
The Aftermath
Solo, trotting behind him with her chest ripped open, skin hanging down and blood oozing out.
As the two came onto the road, Bamera Son crouched down in a show of submission, bringing the fight to a decisive victory for the female, but at a massive cost. Solo continued to size him up, determined to push him away. Despite being half his size, she had somehow managed to defeat him and save her cubs. Bamera Son submitted to her once he realized that she would fight till death.
My eyes were full of tears, and my hands had never felt so weak. My stomach turned and I felt sick knowing that I could not do anything to help her.
I could not interfere with nature.
As Bamera Son walked away, Solo approached my vehicle – her stomach was completely empty, it looked as if she was starving – her chest flapped open, and she was bleeding from her mouth, hind legs, paws, and shoulders. I feared for her survival and that of her cubs. She came and stood just a couple meters from my jeep and gazed at me with her amber eyes as if wanting to say something. Her eyes looked full of pain and distress. That is the moment I captured on this portrait of Solo.
I have seen tigers thousands of times, spent countless hours with them and know many of them very intimately, but never had I ever felt such a boundless and inseparable connection as I felt in that moment with Solo.
A day later, Solo was tranquilized by the Forest Department, and her wounds were stitched up. Solo survived. And so did her cubs. For now.
This was not the end of her struggle
Solo’s territory was traversed by nine different tigers. This was highly unusual and dangerous for her well-being, and the safety of her cubs. Ideally for every four to five females, there is one dominant male that overlaps their territory, mates with them, and protects their cubs from intruding males. But our tiger reserves have become islands of paradise surrounded by an ocean of concrete, farmlands, and mines. Tigers are unable to disperse into newer habitats. If the tigers go out of the reserve, they risk running into conflicts with humans or even worse being poached or run over by speeding vehicles and trains. The remaining pockets of connecting forests are simply too narrow and deprived of food and water, for the tigers to be able to disperse successfully.
Solo’s problems got bigger when her chest opened back up during a difficult hunt, forcing the Forest Department to tranquilize her again to stitch her wounds – a process which is incredibly stressful for the tiger. And this process repeated itself several times. Solo grew weaker and weaker. Somehow, she was still able to provide for her cubs, as all four were quite healthy and growing at a fast pace.
A crisis in the Tiger Capital
Solo was in her prime, and her cubs represented the future of this troubled species, but I quickly realized that if they are to survive till adulthood, they require more space. Bandhavgarh was already overcrowded with tigers. The carrying capacity is approximately 65 tigers but the real count at the time was 124.
In June 2020, a new female started asserting her dominance in Solo’s territory. And when the park reopened in October – after the monsoons – Solo and her cubs went missing. A search party found them two weeks later, in the outskirts of the park, near a small hillock bordering a village. While Solo’s cubs looked healthy, she appeared quite weak and stressed – a gash healing on her shoulder was a sign of a brutal fight during the monsoons. But she was successful at protecting her cubs and keeping them healthy. Despite all odds, Solo was proving to be a real survivor.
Things got out of hand when she was forced to seek respite in the periphery of the park and started praying on cattle. Solo and her cubs had nowhere else to go, and nothing else to eat. Every other territory in Bandhavgarh was occupied.
The Tragedy
On October 17th, 2020, Solo was found dead along with two of her female cubs next to a cattle carcass. The other two went missing. One female cub was seen sometime later but she too disappeared. The male was never found.
To this very day, the official reports claim that the “tigress was found dead under unnatural circumstances.” Interviews of the field guards and the vet however point to the fact that Solo and her cubs died from poisoning of the carcass by humans, perhaps in retaliation to the cattle killings or worse – for poaching.
This news devastated me. It felt like one of the worst personal and professional losses. I had been working toward conservation in Bandhavgarh with all my heart and soul. But at hearing this, I felt like giving up on everything I do. Solo came out victorious from every challenge, but lost to us humans. I felt completely hopeless.
After a couple weeks of mourning, I had to summon the courage to return to Bandhavgarh to continue my work. I reminded myself that there are still more tigers to protect, habitats to conserve, people to be influenced and lives to be changed.
