Animal Farm
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Waiting for his wife to return from ‘hob-nobbing’ in Europe, ARUN CHANDOLA has plenty of time to take in the goings-on at the Keoladeo National Park. Leaves from his diary...

Grazing is prohibited in Keoladeo National Park. But it is very hard to check it because there are a dozen plus one villages — all of them heavily populated — around the periphery of this manmade Park, and all of them depend on it to an appreciable extent for their fodder and fuel — in spite of the presence of rules and regulations that make taking away of grass and wood (or anything else for that matter) from the National Park illegal.

A month ago news arrived that some villagers of Ghasola (a rogue village) had broken part of the wall surrounding the park and were driving their cows inside. Available staff headed by Range officer Nathi Lal got into a canter and headed for the area to confirm.

The news was found to be true.
The Range officer got down from the canter and asked the villagers politely to take their cows back to their village, that confrontation would do no good to anyone. Instead of obeying, shrieking obscenities the villagers attacked the staff with big heavy lathis. (It later turned out that the attack was pre-planned. The villagers had decided to teach the forest wallahs who prevent grazing of their cattle in the National Park a lesson once and for all.)

Most of the lathis landed on the staff heads.
The fight lasted quite a while. The Range officer’s hand was grabbed and twisted. There was a dull crack.

The villagers would have done more had not at that very moment help arrived for the other party. Cursing and shouting, stumbling and falling, the villagers ran away.
Five of the injured staff of Keoladeo National Park were taken to the hospital. The police came and took statements. Eight of those who had wielded lathis to deadly effect were arrested and taken to prison.

The injured staff has now rejoined duties. Today they can be seen going about with bandages and stitches on their heads. The Range officer, for the time being for all practical purposes immobilised, sits in his office with a metal piece implanted in his hand. He does physiotherapy the whole day long. He has been advised physiotherapy if he wants to get it back to ship shape again. Few days ago the villagers who went to jail were released.

A local politician who is angry because he was not able to stop their being taken to prison and who depends on their votes for his election wins had meanwhile sworn at the altar of a fierce Goddess named Maa Kali and in front of his Rs. 26 lakh Toyota Qualis that he will have the present Director of the National Park, as well as other subordinate staff involved in the affair, transferred within forty eight hours.

The countdown has begun...

Episode 2
India is a very heavily populated country.
So heavily populated in fact that one cannot even walk without trodding on the tail of someone. I do it every day and all the time. Naturally, there must be massive unemployment too. But the unemployed also need to eat and drink. (We are not as spiritual as we would like the West to believe.) So many deal with the problem by becoming thieves or the cronies and muscle men of local politicians.

Out here in Bharatpur the unemployed, and underemployed of the many villages surrounding the Keoladeo National Park keep a sharp vigil for opportunities to catch and take away as much fish as they can from the lakes. Obviously, this pursuit is proscribed.

Planting and removal of fishing nets is nightly activity.
Now, if the staff is alert, the thieves cannot succeed. But if there has been laxity on their part it may be otherwise. While the catch is not enough to make them millionaires, it is enough for their local liquor, murga (chicken) and dancing girls. But I could be wrong here because, I confess, I have never really stopped thieves running with sacks slung on their shoulders in the dead of night and requested them to please let me weigh their catch.

In the recent past the staff had not been very vigilant in their night patrolling. For two reasons. The first reason was that the top boss was away. The presence of the top boss in a national park is very important for keeping things in check. The top boss of KNP was either away for a good part of the last two months setting eyes on the Eiffel tower and wishing the city a premature but happy Bastille Day; meeting Bruce Wayne (a Mr Swarovski actually, who is financing the Interpretation Centre at KNP); and having tea with a President — in this case Austrian.

Or moving heaven and earth to be allowed to do so.
These endeavours not only took her twenty days off, but mine too. And when God asks me to show my written work for these days, I will have no story and no poem to read aloud.

And the second reason the staff was lax was that after the clash with rogue villagers, in which the best of the field staff were hospitalised with head and limb injuries and thus put out of commission, the remaining staff became demoralised, bringing regular patrolling to a standstill.

All this while the thieves watched, and clapped in glee! Not many days ago I travelled two hundred kilometers to the international airport in New Delhi, picked the director, told her that the mice had been playing while the cat was away, and brought her back to deal with the situation.

Within five minutes of entering the official residence the phone rang. "I hear the Director saab has returned," said a gruff voice at the other end. "My name is Ghotak Lal, though that is not my real name. I am a well wisher and wish to inform that fish is being stolen from the national park because the staff is doing nothing in the name of vigilance."

Ghotak Lal also gave the names of the villagers involved in the illegal operation.
Though absolutely drained and sleepy, we drove inside the Park. The staff was snoring/absent. They were surprised to see the Director back. "When did you return, saab?" they asked, blinking, trying hard not to yawn. The saab told them to get up and patrol because she had received information that nets were already in place, and fish thieves were waiting to pull them out along with their associated harvest. As we turned for home, it was twelve in the night.

At 2:30 am we were awakened by a wireless message. It said, "Encountered the thieves. Scuffle followed. But they escaped because of higher numbers. Nets confiscated. All identified and from village Aghapur. Forest guard Mukhram’s hand broken."

It is a long story actually.
But I am sure people busy in protecting our natural heritage from inside big halls and from behind podiums and behind cameras and by indulging in general discussions in research and natural history over the internet are not interested in knowing the exact circumstances surrounding the broken hand of Mukhram the ex-soldier-now- forest-guard; and whether he howled in pain or grinned bravely — I receive enough e-mails that leave me in no doubt that reading about it would be considered a wastage of time. And so I skip.

In short, something called an FIR was lodged with the police, and a young dashing junior police officer asked to inquire and bring the culprits to justice. But just when the police was about to catch them, a local politician — again the same one who vowed to machine gun the present Director and subordinate officers in the last episode of this ongoing soap opera — interfered on behalf of ‘his’ men.

This time successfully.
As a result the villains are moving about freely under the protection of their political mentor today, while Mukhram moves with a bandaged hand in a sling; and I should end the tale here, but I won’t, because I want it to end on a positive note. That comes from the police officer in charge of the matter who was put under great pressure from higher ups to change certain facts to the advantage of the local politician and his gang of thieves.

He refused to do so.
He has given it in writing that his conscience does not allow him to tamper with the truth, and if this is not liked, he may be replaced with someone more amenable.
The positive note is that so far he has not been taken off the case.

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