No Black Panther

Dandeli.

It was pouring when we sleepily disembarked from the Ajmer Express at Londa. I could see the taxi drivers' eyes light up when they saw us descend the walkway over the tracks, what with two French women leading the way. With a start like that, the fare bargaining, expectedly, was most unfair. Anyway, after unsuccessfully haggling a bit, we drove off into the monsoon green and to our home for the weekend - two spacious rooms at the Jungle Lodges' Kali River Resort.

The Kali River, the boatman told us, is named after the black appearance of the water. The rains, however, had turned it into the colour of a light coffee. The crocodiles took the opportunity presented by the short break in the rain to drag themselves out of their lethargy by soaking in the cloud filtered sun-rays. Women from the village across the river took the same opportunity to wash clothes down by the river. They've always done this with no fear of the crocodiles because there are fish aplenty in the river.

The driver stopped the jeep suddenly and killed the engine. The silence of the forest is shattered by the shriek of a Crested Serpent Eagle. There he was, perched on a leafless branch looking over our jeep at a ripple in the pond. He shrieked again, gave us one disdainful glare and gracefully soared into the trees. Methinks he was mightily displeased by our interference in his hunt of the rat snake in the pond. The ripple that was the rat snake must have thanked his lucky stars. The other creatures we disturbed that evening were a herd of gaur, a wild boar, a malabar giant squirrel, some spotted deer, a few emerald doves and dozens of peafowl. The forest is clad in its thickest coat at this time of year, so I wasn't surprised at the meagre returns of our safari.

Screeching hornbills woke me up the next morning. Gathering wits and camera, I stumbled out into the grey dawn. Malabar grey hornbills and malabar pied hornbills adorned the higher reaches of the trees, squabbling about what I do not know, but kicking up one helluva ruckus to be sure. The racket-tailed drongos we saw on the morning walk, the noisy ones in any hunting party, seemed courteous and polite after the chaos of the hornbills. They were accompanied on their hunt by common flameback woodpeckers and scarlet minivets. The path we walked through the forest was netted by spider webs, most prominently those of the giant wood spiders. Frogs and grasshoppers leapt out of our clumsy way giving the forest floor a nervous appearance. A rufous woodpecker on a silver oak completed my morning walk.

The rest of the day was then spent trying to fool each other at bluff, and other card games. And then it was time for the bus ride back to Bangalore. Aurelie, Emilie, Manik and Dillu... merci beaucoup!