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Jungle Mysteries
Jungle Mysteries
Jungle Mysteries
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Jungle Mysteries

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Delve into thrilling tales of a budding forester as he embarks on a perilous journey through the
mystical and uncharted forests of Chhattisgarh.
The first two stories expose the sad and harrowing truth of human-wildlife conflict. In 'The
Panther's Lair', a ferocious panther has terrorised innocent villagers of Tultuli. The people
clamour that the beast be hunted down. Will our forester yield to their pressure and kill the
predator and save the day, or instead put his moral duty first to protect the big cat but leave
behind a long trail of human blood?
In 'The Tuskers of Jashpur', a desolate village, Sajapani has been struck time and again by a
rogue elephant herd. People are infuriated and already living on the edge when help from the
government is lacking. As our forester attempts to fix the problem, his hands get tied by the
system rife with corruption. Will justice be delivered or will mayhem and carnage follow when
people decide to take the law into their own hands?
In 'The Hunt for Charger', poachers belonging to the notorious and deadly Pardhi gang are on
the lookout for a tiger named Charger who is the pride of Bhoramdeo Tiger Reserve. Will the
forester be able to apprehend the killers on time and save the tiger or is it too late already?
Read on for more such hair-raising experiences!

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 24, 2023
ISBN9789358830187
Jungle Mysteries
Author

Animesh Goverdhan

Animesh Goverdhan is presently working as an Assistant Conservator of Forest in theGovernment of Chhattisgarh. He has done his graduation in Environmental Engineering fromDelhi University. Being his hobby as well as his profession, he has widely toured different forestlandscapes all over the country, many of them being virgin forest areas. He has beeninstrumental in developing a unique city forest ‘Oxyzone’ in the heart of the capital city ofChhattisgarh, Raipur which is the only example where a large number of buildings weredemolished to plant new trees. He has penned two more books, Oxyzone – The Magical Forestof Raipur (ISBN 9788194345220) and Turning Mine Dumps into Green Mountains.

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    Jungle Mysteries - Animesh Goverdhan

    CT-ORN

    The Panther’s lair

    CT-ORN

    When I was handed over my posting order for the Kanker Sub Division of Chhattisgarh, I wasn’t very elated; not because of the remote and secluded nature of the place, but because of Mr Verma, a famously detested personality in the forest circles who was going to be my boss. There was hardly a person in the bureaucracy who didn’t recognise his name! There were two reasons for that. First, because, if there was a ‘Mr Ugly’ pageant, he would make it to the top spot, since he looked as hideous as a donkey’s head on a pig’s body! And second, because he really had a donkey’s mind that enabled him to pen new chapters in the annals of incompetency!

    Now, just a few years back, he was tasked with hunting down a man-eater panther, which he did successfully. However, it was the wrong one! The actual man-eater was still on the prowl and kept terrorising the villages! But there was no disciplinary proceeding that followed this incident and he was given a free pass despite his grave fiasco, as he belonged to an elite family.

    When I entered his chamber, he sat on his chair, chewing on paan and kept rubbing his fingers and grazing a large comb over his almost barren head. This man had talent – he could spit the red, slimy juice of the paan from his mouth straight into a dustbin ten feet away like a fountain, without spilling a single drop anywhere. I mean you had to give it to him… he could disgust you in the most unimaginable ways.

    When this fellow handed me the keys to my house and said, Enjoy boy! While it lasts. I knew then and there, that there were some rather tough days ahead of me.

    The house was around seven kilometres from my office. In spite of being a small town, the condition of the roads was almost perfect. Dadsena, my driver enjoyed racing my car like an aeroplane on this road as if it were a runway. In all probability, he could have taken off at least once or twice a day, by defying the laws of physics. Unfortunately, his dreams were always shattered by the last two-kilometre stretch. From an aeroplane gathering speed for takeoff, the car would be reduced to a speed slower than a bullock cart on this patch.

    In the forest, we have neither roads nor pavements. All we have are boulders, rocks and potholes, the size of which can make you appreciate even the worst broken roads in India as quite decent.

    The house was isolated, away from people and settlements. It was ridiculously enormous. Three elephants could roam inside freely and it would still look empty! Four king sized bedrooms, a porch, a large hall, two living rooms, a kitchen and a backyard all lay in the midst of a dense forest. In my early days here, I would lose my way in this maze wandering from one room to another. It was ancient and looked like the last maintenance was done aeons back. There were cracks in the wall, broken tiles on the floor, doors that would never shut, shattered windows, and a rotten smell that emanated from all over. These were the least of the problems. The greatest challenge was the monsoon. Buckets had to be laid from one checkpoint to another all over the house to collect the trickling rainwater, but it still wouldn’t be enough. No matter which corner I chose the showers would somehow find their way through rifts the size of ozone holes on my roof to get me fully drenched.

    One half of my day would be spent at the office bearing my boss and the other half used to get eaten up by Bhola, an electrician who was also a part-time plumber, mason and technician. There was one time when Bhola just kept staring at my house for hours. When I asked him what the matter was, he told me with a devilish grin, It’s no less than a miracle that you are still alive! I wonder how this house has not crumbled under its own weight yet…

    As if the office and the house were not already enough on my plate, I had Akalu, a domestic help, who had a story of his own. Born when a large famine (akaal) had struck the good folk of his village in Kanker, he was named Akalu and was considered by many to be greatly unlucky. Now I don’t believe in superstitions, but this man rocked the very foundation of my beliefs. Whenever he was around, something bad would always happen! The first time when he served me tea a snake crawled up right in front of my eyes through the porch; the second time the ceiling fan fell on my table splintering glass shards all over! The third time, I was watching my favourite show on TV when an entire transformer blew up plunging the whole village into darkness. During the fourth time, I was taking a dump peacefully in the morning amongst the sweet melody of birds when Akalu uttered Sahab! Chai. Now the door to the bathroom never shut tight and with Akalu being who he was, I trembled with fear that he would come bursting inside. I immediately put on my pants and pushed the flush knob when the whole water from the toilet ejected like a fountain on me. Covered in filth, I went outside and saw that the septic tank had exploded. That was the last time I ever let Akalu serve me tea! On the opposite end of the spectrum, I had with me another housekeeper Sukalu, his brother. He took pride in saying he was very lucky since he was born during the time of bumper harvest. While nothing special happened when he was around, I believe he did act as a kind of counter balance to the jinxed Akalu.

    Being all alone in the house away from my parents, away from civilisation, away from malls, shopping complexes and friends, it was bound to feel quite lonely. But I had with me Tipu, my younger brother. A clever, naughty, playful and protective furry companion, he was the apple of my eye. He was a mixed Labrador of nine years. In my hometown Raipur, every morning my father fed stray dogs in the colony. One of the puppies roughly about six weeks old always used to follow him to our home. No matter how many times we took him back to his pack, he always found his way back to us. I never had any siblings, so we adopted this small, chubby creation of God. My inseparable bond with him made me realise that if there is anyone in this world who can love you as unconditionally as your parents, it’s your dog. When I moved to Kanker, I took him with me. It didn’t matter where I lived. As long as I could feel his soft touch and hear him growl, I felt at home, and at peace.

    He had an entire garden to himself at the back of the house. A beautiful carpet of grass adorned with seasonal flowers from chrysanthemums to lilies to marigolds – it was his playground from morning till evening and my retreat for tea and snacks. The courtyard lay right in the middle of the jungle and to keep the wild animals away, robust walls built from stones enclosed the compound. However, on one side a lofty grille was placed that offered mesmerising vistas of the forest that lay in front. Sitting in my armchair, relaxing, I used to indulge in resplendence that the nature had to offer.

    On one of the many sleepless nights in the house, I was burning the candle at both ends to finish drafting a project that I had to submit to my boss in the morning when suddenly I heard high pitched noise of utensils banging one another in the kitchen. I went there and saw plates and glasses had fallen all over the floor. As I began to pick them up, I heard someone breathing loud behind me.

    Yes, Sukalu! What do you want? I frowned.

    But there was no reply. In the next moment, a roaring thunder ravaged through the sky and one lightning followed another that descended from above like Hell’s downpour. A gigantic

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