Achal Dhruva witnesses a rare harmony between man and beast in the Gir Wildlife Sanctuary.

We were in the middle of our morning jungle safari, on the dirt track of the Gir Lion Sanctuary. We could have missed the lioness completely had she not strayed towards the track. The driver brought the jeep to a halt, the lioness paused in her stride and stared hard at us. Nearby, the Maldhari digging the road, continued his task, unperturbed. It was our excited chatter which drew his attention to the lioness.

Instead of fleeing, he simply stood and stared as the animal emerged from the bush and crossed the road barely five feet away. A brief glance towards him, a goodbye swish of her tail and she melted into the forest on the other side. The Maldhari went back to his job.

We could not help rushing to him and asking how he could be so nonchalant in the face of such danger. His aged, weather-beaten face crinkles into a broad smile. ‘‘As long as you follow the rule of not disturbing them, the lions leave you alone,’’ he explains. ‘‘We live in their jungle and we have lived together peacefully.’’

The Maldharis of the Gir Forest have followed this royal diktat for over a cen-tury, co-existing peacefully with lions. Small settlements of Maldharis, known as nesses, are scattered all over the forest. Each ness consists of six to eight houses made of timber, mud and thatch.

This was our second sighting of the morning, two hours into our second safari in the Gir forest. Earlier, within 45 minutes of entering the forest, we heard the high-pitched alarm calls of a chital and a loud warning call from a sambar, a sure sign of a lion on the prowl. We peered hard through the fading morning mist, but the king of beasts seemed reluctant to grant us an audience.

As we rumbled along, I suddenly noticed a movement at a distance to our right. He loomed into sight — a full-grown male, approximately 12-years-old, watching us intently. Satisfied we were stationary, he advanced out of the forest directly in front of the jeep crossing the road not more than 15 feet away.

He continued his gambol, paused for a moment in front of us, scrutinised us with his regal stare and then walked away with a haughty flick of his tail. The 40-kms Raidi route (Sasan-Kankarinaka-Ratan-pura-Pipripat-Khada-Kher-maba-Dedakadi-Raidi-Bha-mbhakod-Sasan) we had chosen that morning, had proved lucky. The Raidi route is one of the two most interesting paths of the eight that criss-crosses the 200 sq kms tourist zone.

Earlier, we had covered the other famous route (Sasan-Khokra-Sisvan-Deva-dungar-Gambliamba-Kam-leshwar Dam-Mindholi-wada-Sasan) but had failed to sight the beast. Our guide was informed that a lioness and her cubs were near a watering hole at Deva-dungar, and also near Kamleshwar Dam, but they remained in the forest.

On the way to Deva-dungar is the quaint village of Sisvan, inhabited entirely by Siddis, a tribe of African people. They were brought 300 years ago from Africa, by the Portuguese for the Nawab of Junagadh. Today, they are more Indian than African and follow very few of their original customs, with a few exceptions like the traditional Dhamal dance.

Kamleshwar Dam is a surprise patch of blue in an otherwise yellow and brown horizon. It was nearing dusk when we heard the roars of a lion not too far away. Our guide informed that it was a male and moving in the direction of the dam. A tense wait followed but to no avail.

Rameshbhai Patel, our guide on the Raidi route, informs us that on an average, there are two to three lion sightings per week, with the summer months of April and May as the best period.

Our luck also held out during our visit to the Gir Interpretation Zone at Devaliya, 12 kms from Sasan Gir. The 412-hectares of chain link fenced area, presents Gir in a nutshell, covering all types of habitat and wildlife. The zone was created to reduce pressure on the National Park and to guarantee a lion sighting.

We sighted all four lions of the Interpretation Zone. Our first encounter was with a lioness cooling off in a clump of bamboo trees. Breathing heavily in the heat, she tried hard to ignore our presence but our excited chatter soon got to her and finally, with a grunt she walked off deeper into the forest. Further on, we hit a bonanza. The three lions were scattered around, the lioness stretched out on the road and the other couple, resting under a large tree.

But to our shock, the lioness on the road began to roar, a series of low-pitched roars. Hearing it so close is the scariest thing on earth. I froze with excitement and terror as she walked past, brushing the jeep.

She walked towards the male and nuzzled behind his ear, before going behind the tree. She looked back once and gave another roar. It was an order he could not ignore. He followed her meekly. The message was clear — she did not appreciate the attention he was showering on the younger lioness. I was all set to sit back and watch the unfolding drama of a serious cat fight when our guide informed us we had to leave. No vehicle is allowed for longer than 45 minutes inside the interpretation zone.

It was my turn to roar in anger.

(Courtesy: Express Business Traveller)

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