There's No Taming the Wild

Let's admit it. Our hold over nature is only so much, if at all.

The shocking incident at Dubare Elephant Camp in which a woman tourist from Chennai was killed in a fight between two elephants, proves this beyond any doubt.

A "tamed", captive tusker belonging to the Karnataka Forest Department attacked another elephant, a Makna – a tuskless male elephant – at this popular tourist spot in Kushalnagar taluk of Kodagu district. Reports indicated that the woman was crushed under the Makna when it fell on its side after being rammed by the tusker.

Shouting out commands that fell on deaf ears, the mahout barely managed to hang on to his life atop the frenzied 4-tonne beast. The other mahouts and elephant-keepers seemed to have no clue how to stop what could well have turned into a bigger carnage.

Images showed the banks filled with visitors enjoying the summer vacation. Tourists are allowed to watch – even touch – the pachyderms getting a scrub in the shallow waters every day. They go back with selfies and happy memories. Not so for the devastated family from Chennai.

Promptly, the Karnataka government came out with a list of official announcements, starting with an ex-gratia compensation of Rs 20 lakh to the bereaved family.

The state's forest minister, Eswar Khandre, announced a set of rules and safety measures with immediate effect: tourists will not be allowed within 100 metres of the bathing elephants; they will be barred from taking selfies and from feeding them; and the "culprit", in this case 26-year-old Kanjan, will be withdrawn from the annual Dasara parade duties henceforth.

The new regulations are sure to be followed at least until this incident fades from memory. The minister also announced an official inquiry into the incident. But one needn't look far to find the reasons behind the tragedy.

Wild animals, be it in a zoo or in the wild, are programmed by their instincts. Whether in a forest or in captivity, they do not act in accordance with human expectations. Attributing human qualities to "tamed" beasts or petting them in captivity is as much a transgression as crossing their boundaries or getting too close for their comfort in the wild. While doing so, it is almost always the human who is in danger. Combined with their inviolable space is their brute strength, which if used – even unintentionally – can be fatal. They can kill us without intending to. Even the most experienced scientists and popular wildlife personalities whom we admire, live by these rules.

Also read: Painted Pink: Why The Death of Captive Elephant Chanchal in Jaipur Has Raised Numerous Concerns

What's more, treating them as entertainment crosses all boundaries of ethics. Like in a circus or in a zoo, access is ticketed for revenue, but the proceeds do not go towards the upkeep of local communities. The poorly paid handlers and forest staff bend or erase all boundaries for that extra tip from selfie-obsessed tourists.

Even in wildlife safaris, tourists craving a tiger-sighting are not content until they capture it on their phone-cameras. Safari vehicles competing with each other for better shots is a common sight in national parks. One recent video post showed jeeps surrounding a tiger that was killing a chital.

Although the Karnataka government also banned open-jeep safaris after the Dubare incident, it has not yet been implemented on the ground. At the Bandipur Tiger Reserve, two jeeps of the forest department and three jeeps of the Jungle Lodges and Resorts (a company set up by the government) are continuing to operate as open jeeps.

What appears to be missing in all these entertainment-oriented, revenue-generating exercises is education. That the wilderness is the best classroom from which to understand our place in the animal world is lost on us, much less on those managing national parks, zoos and elephant camps. We may have reduced what remains of the wilderness into an exhibition of rare objects. Armed with cameras and misinformation, these "adventures" are but been-there-done-that stories on our social media timelines. One look at the litter we leave on safari trails speaks volumes about our lack of education and the indifference of the custodians.

The tragedy at Dubare was no accident. Sadly, it was waiting to happen. One cannot also blame the tourists for venturing so close to the banks for better selfies with the bathing elephants. The onus of keeping them at a safe distance was on the forest department. That's the least one expects of an institution that manages the state's wildlife. What one sees on the ground is a mix of lethargy, indifference and bureaucracy, which together are killing the proverbial goose that lays golden eggs.

Any sustainable change should start with better salaries, working conditions and training for its staff, all aimed at better management and education. Making tribal communities stakeholders in forest and wildlife management would be the ideal. Presently, most of the forest department staff are casual workers paid on the basis of a daily wage.

The last of the few permanent staff are paid around Rs 50,000 a month, whereas the majority of staff – all daily-wagers – earn around Rs 18,000 a month. Even the mahouts, who perform the specialised, highly-skilled task of controlling and caring for elephants – are largely daily-wage labourers. Interestingly, most of the mahouts belong to the forest tribes, now resettled outside national parks.

Working conditions of forest watchers, for instance, involves covering about 20 km of forest paths a day. The task gets particularly challenging in the summer months when, besides the trudging, they have to lookout for forest fires. They also become the frontline force in the event of a fire.

For lessons in management, Karnataka need only look at the neighbouring Tamil Nadu forest department for ideas. One wouldn't venture so far as to say that there is no corruption on that side, but policy, direction and thoughtfulness is visible on the ground, unlike the knee-jerk reactions that the Karnataka side is prone to.

The contrast is stark when one drives from Bandipur Tiger Reserve in Karnataka into Mudhumalai Tiger Reserve in Tamil Nadu on the Mysuru-Ooty highway. Although both tiger reserves are contiguous forests that are part of the Niligiri Biosphere Reserve, they seem worlds apart.

For instance, at the Mudhumalai elephant camp at Theppakadu – where the Oscar-winning documentary The Elephant Whisperers was shot – tourists are allowed to watch captive elephants from behind barricades, erected at a safe distance from the feeding area.

Human safety around wildlife is inversely proportional to the latter's stress levels. The onus of understanding this is on us.

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