Ginna and Delbert during an afternoon
visit to the Taj Mahal in Agra, India.
Photo by P.K. Pant.
Dottie the tiger emerges from the bush during a
driving safari in India’s Bandhavgarh National Park.
Photo by Ginna Royce.
It took five safaris with Karun before we
saw a tiger in the wild. Dottie emerged
from the bush, crossed the road in front
of us and disappeared into the thicket.
The sighting took all of four seconds.
Our first real meal since leaving home was at the Spice Route,
an authentic Southeast Asian restaurant inside The Imperial
Hotel. We were instantly transported to an exotic den hand
painted with vegetable and flower dyes and adorned with
traditional Thai sculptures. Shrimp floating in spicy curry
sauce, crispy vegetable spring rolls, beef with green peppers
and phad phak all hooked my taste buds.
It’s just three hours from Delhi to Agra, home of the majestic
Taj Mahal. Two visits are necessary: one at sunrise and one
at sunset. Our guide, PK, grew up playing on the grounds, so
his familiarity with the mausoleum was unsurpassed. As we
approached the covered entrance, he requested that we hold
hands and cast our eyes to the stone walkway at our feet. We
walked forward, and just as I felt the sun on my hair, he whis-
pered, “Look up.” The white ivory marble temple caught my
breath, and I sobbed. Its mesmerizing beauty is surpassed only
by that of the love of the Mughal emperor who commissioned
the structure in 1632 to house the tomb of his wife.
It took the next two days to travel from Agra to Mahua
Kothi Jungle Lodge in Bandhavgarh National Park, our first
tiger safari camp. There we met Karun, a modern-day version
of Teddy Roosevelt who is a legend among tiger safari guides
in central India. Our forays with him into the park each day
took place at 5:30 a.m. and 2:30 p.m. in an open-air Jeep.
For morning drives, we were presented with two hot water
bottles and three wool blankets to survive the 40-degree tem-
peratures at 35 mph.
The national parks prohibit the use of radios, so safari guides
rely on alert calls from the jungle’s inhabitants to locate the
elusive tigers. Two working elephants ridden by rangers patrol
the park as well, trumpeting at the sight of tigers. It took five
safaris with Karun before we saw a tiger in the wild. Dottie
emerged from the bush, crossed the road in front of us and dis-
appeared into the thicket. The sighting took all of four seconds.
The not-so-elusive spotted deer, red-faced monkeys, sambar
and peacocks kept our cameras engaged, and we were treated
each night to a grand seven-course dinner under the Mahua
tree, lit by 35 hanging kerosene lanterns.
After three days in Mahua Kothi, we shared the road with
cows, goats, chickens and dogs for four hours before arriving
at the Banjaar Tola tented camp in Kanha National Park. Our
tented suite there was luxurious and included a private veranda
overlooking the Banjaar River. Nothing beats the soundtrack
of a slow-moving river and the distinct calls from birds and
wildlife that come to drink. A beautiful young lady named
Sangita served as our naturalist in Kanha for the next three
days. Aside from the postcards and brochures, Dottie was the
only tiger we would see in India.
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