Forest guards are unsung heroes in our wildlife conservation efforts. BRIJENDRA SINGH tells us the story of a guard who died in Corbett this July
Those who come as visitors to Corbett National Park in the tourist season have no idea as to what it takes to make the reserve what it is. The pride of India, Corbett has the largest population of free roaming tigers in the world. Those who make this possible are the “foot stomping” lower-rung forest guards and the daily wagers of the park (ironically, they do not receive their salaries for months on end). These are the unsung heroes who have to undergo a gruelling time during the humid, mosquito, snake and scorpion-infested monsoons, without fans or tap water or the comforts that we take for granted. There is no certainty to their lives either, threatened incessantly as they are by poachers as well as wild animals. And they work persistently without any off on the weekends. The call of duty for them is 24x7. Hats off to these brave, dedicated foot soldiers of Corbett.
On July 15, Jitender Kumar Dhiani, forest guard, who was posted at the remote, water-bound outpost called Gaujera Chowki, was drowned. His body could not be found. All that Raju, a colleague, could see from a distance was Jitender’s hands before it disappeared in the waters of Kalagarh lake. As crocodiles were abundant in this area, it was suspected that he had been attacked by one of these reptiles. Raju informed other guards, and they all rushed to the lake but there was little they could do. No boat, after all, was available to them and to swim in the crocodile-infested waters was just out of question.
Ratwadhab, the nearest village, is 11 km away. One gets there on foot, after a steep climb for four hours. All rations have to be brought in from there, carried on one’s back. No wonder, powdered milk for tea is a luxury here and fresh vegetables unheard of. Dal, roti and Rice are the norm. Medical aid is non-existent. The lake’s water is brackish and undrinkable and one has to walk to the Kali Gadh Sot for this. Besides, malaria, fever, diarrhea, depression, etc, are the factors that a forest guard has to contend with during the monsoon.
On April 1, when Uttarakhand Chief Minister Vijay Bahuguna visited the park, I extracted a promise from him for boats that were required for patrolling, especially during the rainy season. After all, during the monsoon, Corbett gets vulnerable to poachers and it is impossible to patrol without boats. Sadly, nothing has come out of this promise so far. The park has only one old boat and even this is in bad shape.
On July 15, at 11 pm, I received a message from the field director of Corbett, Samir Sinha, saying, “A forest guard, Jitender, from the Gaujera outpost has got missing. He has possibly been drowned. A search is underway.” Realising that Sohan Singh, the boatman, who was in Delhi attending to his ailing father, I had no option but to leave on my own. I knew Jitender. He had been on patrols with me several times. I knew there was remote possibility that he would still be alive. With this faint hope I arrived at Gaujera at 7.30 am in the boat to find the DFO, Amit Verma, with his team combing the banks of the lake on foot. Amit had walked throughout the night, in the heavy rain from Ratwadhab to look for the missing forest guard. I was happy to see that the officer in charge of the Kalagarh Forest Division had felt it necessary to do so — a duty that most officers these days do not shoulder.
Taking Amit onboard, I decided to comb the lake and in particular the area where a few crocodiles had been sighted that morning, but we drew a blank. The only other thing that I could now do was to take the boat at high speed in circles through the clogged flotsam in the area where Jitender was last seen. Saket Badola, the deputy director of Corbett National Park, had arrived by then to help us, even though this did not fall under his jurisdiction. I took him onboard and as we continued our search, we soon noticed bubbles emanating on the surface from the submerged corpse, which now had been a washed closer to the shore. Some of our courageous men leapt in and soon Jitender’s body was brought ashore. It was a sad realisation that the young forest guard was dead. Unfortunately, Jitender was the second wildlife guard we had lost within a month.
A young widow and two small children are now left behind to fend for themselves in the village of Taria, which overlooks this unforgiving lake, to remind them every day, sadly, of a dear one they have lost.
The writer is the honorary warden of Corbett Tiger Reserve
