As Chander had hoped, the now-healthier Akshu inherited primary responsibility for herding the family’s cattle when he wasn’t in school. The families in Akshu’s hamlet shared herding responsibilities so, when it was his turn, Akshu was charged with taking both the Atris’ dozen or so cattle and his neighbors’ animals across the creek into the jungle to feed, making sure none were lost or stolen. Akshu was seldom if ever completely on his own. His herd would combine with those of other cowherds. Nonetheless, by about noon the conversation would have died down, and Akshu and his companions would be bored of walking alongside their livestock. Generally, the activities the boys engaged in to stave off boredom seemed innocent enough—for instance, they would scramble up slopes near rivers and streams looking for kingfishers’ nests, dig out their eggs, and suck out their contents. On one occasion, though, Akshu found himself up in an assare tree, cutting small branches with his kukri to feed the calves under his watch. Suddenly, he realized that he wasn’t alone—six or seven forest guards had spotted him. ‘Why have you come alone into the jungle?’ one shouted. ‘Why are you cutting fresh wood?’
In those days, young, fit forest guards patrolled the forest regularly on foot, looking for violators of conservation laws. They commanded a great deal of fear, and Akshu, of course, was still a child. He almost wet himself as he scrambled down the tree. His father had warned him not to cut green wood—the villagers living in Buxa were only permitted to collect dead, dry wood from the forest floor for fuel. But Motikar’s tendency of framing things in terms of ethics instead of practical implications such as risk of punishment had not resonated with his son.
The Buxa Tiger Reserve is located in northern West Bengal. Photo: Sayak Ghosh, CC BY-SA 4.0
‘If I ever catch you cutting fresh wood again,’ the forest guard continued, ‘I will take you straight into custody. You are NEVER to cut fresh wood.’ Akshu mumbled that he was just there to graze his cattle and ran back to his herd, never to cut fresh wood again.
Akshu might have often felt bored as he herded cattle, but he was unwittingly developing a deeper relationship with the forest ecosystem and its denizens. His typically unexciting days were punctuated with the sublime and the terrifying. On one occasion, Akshu and a middle-aged companion named Magar Dai were driving some 50 or 60 cattle east on a dirt road coming from Madhubangaon. The trail stretched straight into the forest as it crossed several of Buxa’s creeks. At one of the streams, there was suddenly a disturbance. The cattle that had passed the creek continued forward, but half of the herd just behind the creek abruptly stopped. They looked agitated, but before Akshu could ask Magar what was happening, the problem made itself clear. A huge makhna—a male elephant without tusks—stepped out of the forest. Immediately, it turned its massive head in the direction of the humans separated from him by just a small group of cattle.
Asian elephants are one among the large mammals seen in the reserve. Photo: ManoJ Saha / 500px/Getty Images
Akshu instinctively turned to flee, but Magar whispered, ‘There’s no need to run. There are so many cattle, he won’t come after us.’ Akshu stuck by his elder. The makhna flapped his ears toward them, but he didn’t trumpet or snort. Finally, he turned and began walking in the same direction as the cattle.
Though they appear to be lumbering, elephants can walk quite fast, and the cattle in front of the makhna found themselves trotting to stay ahead of their new companion. The cattle behind the makhna soon got with the program as well and began to follow the elephant, first cautiously and then more comfortably. Akshu and Magar looked at each other, shrugged, and followed their cattle; their tension was quickly replaced with great pride that their herd included a wild elephant. The makhna occasionally stopped, stood askew, and pointed his trunk, still wet-tipped from his drink in the creek, toward the jungle, sensing things that Akshu could not. Finally, after about a kilometre or two of this, the makhna turned toward the thick jungle of Buxa’s core area and disappeared from view, leaving Akshu both relieved and happy.
In general, herding was a fairly safe activity for Akshu and the other boys. Wild animals didn’t see the cattle as a threat, and since the herd moved slowly and deliberately and often included cows wearing bells, they never really surprised the jungle’s denizens. Elephants in particular, while dangerous in one sense, were also discerning; they could react poorly if surprised in the forest, but when away from the crop fields where they confronted people directly, they seemed less prone to violence. Given prior notice that cattle and humans were en route, they could be quite tolerant.
Excerpted with permission from What’s Left of the Jungle: A Conservation Story by Nitin Sekar, Bloomsbury India.
