Ghaindikatha, Rajaji National Park, Uttarakhand: They call it their second life. And it is, in many ways. “The old ways are gone,” muses 55-year-old Mohammed Yusuf Haji, not without a hint of nostalgia. But he wouldn’t go back to it--or to the dera they lived in, in Chilla, Rajaji National Park. It was difficult, living in the heart of the forest. Fear was a constant companion, and they lacked even the basic amenities. Many lost their own, before they could avail of medical facilities in the nearest town. “We couldn’t venture out at night, whatever be the compulsion, haathi ka dar tha. There was no electricity, roads were washed away by the rains,” says Smita Gujjar. And there were no schools, no hope for a brighter future. Md Yusuf smiles down at his granddaughter, Nazia, a student of Class I. “I can afford to dream now…she will become a doctor or a teacher. There are two schools here in Ghaindikatha, with about 600 children enrolled,” he adds. The gujjars lived in an exploitative barter economy, exchanging their prized milk for necessities like foodgrain, oil, and even cloth and shoes supplied to them by the seth, who had the milk collected. Now, that they are part of the mainstream and their village just off the main highway they command the market price for their milk, and in fact handle the dairy business themselves ensuring a good turnover. When they were shifted out of Chilla, the government also gave them land, two acres per family—which produces two crops in a year. But what matters most is the sense of identity. “We have an address now, jungle mein hum gumnaam the—with no entity. Now, the postman delivers my letters to Babu Mohammed, Ghaindikatha,” says Babu Mohammed. The fact that they now live collectively, unlike the scattered manner in the forest has made them a 4000-strong political base that the politicians woo, “especially now as election fever is on,” says Babu Mohammed. “We have come a long way,” he adds.
The Gujjars, essentially a nomadic tribe, came to the Shivalik hills nearly 200 years ago as part of the dowry of a princess from Himachal Pradesh. Over the years, they settled here, and by the year 2000, Rajaji had a population of some 6,000 gujjars, with their 15,000 odd cattle, making for immense biotic pressure: Cattle had trampled and ruined the grasslands, the nullah running through Chilla had been reduced to a toxic trickle making it unfit for elephants and ungulates, and the gujjars lopped trees to feed their livestock. With such intense disturbance, wildlife had all but disappeared. Pugmarks, and other such signs of the tiger was very rare. An extensive survey on the eastern bank, which has the Chilla range, had yielded not a single pugmark in January 2003. The writing was on the wall: tigers were declining, fast..and their future, if at all, looked bleak.
Then, in an exercise that lasted over an year, 193 Gujjar families from Chilla were resettled in Ghaindikatha in February 2003, and the forest in Chilla got another lease of life. To understand the impact on the forest after the removal of human and livestock pressure, a study was initiated by Wildlife Institute of India to scientifically monitor vegetation, ungulates and tiger recovery. The findings were heartening. The forest regenerated, grasslands grew back, the prey base returned, and predators followed the prey. Tigers are back in Chilla. On January 6, 2005, barely two years after Chilla had been made free of human pressures the camera captured a picture of a lactating tigress. Tigers were breeding in Chilla sending a strong signal of a healthy eco-system. It may be pertinent to note that the last evidence of breeding was some 18-years-ago when a three-month old dying cub was brought to WII from Chilla. Currently, there are reported to be eight tigers in Chilla, with three cubs.
Here is a strong message, for the messiahs of co-existence, who create laws and shape faulty policies that propagate the myth that tigers and people can live happily together. Wish they could see the rehabilitated gujjars in Ghaindikatha, and the rejuvenation of wildlife at Chilla. This is a win-win situation—sensitive rehabilitation of forest dwellers from within critical tiger habitats—that must be replicated all along the Protected Areas of the Terai Arc Landscape, i.e Dudhwa, Katarniaghat, Valmiki; and indeed tiger reserves across the country. Dr Y.V Jhala who co-authored the recent All India survey of tigers and co-predators points out that the study scientifically proved that tigers need undisturbed , inviolate spaces to survive.
Here was living proof of the same.
However, Chilla could not have seen this miraculous recovery without its tenuous connectivity with Corbett Tiger Reserve through the Landsdowne Forest division. Experts believe that tigers may have migrated to Chilla from the buffer zones of Corbett, after the Gujjars were relocated, which only serves to emphasise the significance of conservation of these connecting corridors. Similarly, these narrow forest corridors are also vital migratory paths for male elephants to disperse. A female led group uses these ancient migratory paths especially during times of stress, for plenty of water and food. If such access is blocked, it can only lead to bitter conflicts, with fatalities to both man and elephant.
The Solutions
• 878 families of the total of 1,390 have shifted out of Rajaji, and rehabilitation of the remaining needs to be taken up on a priority basis.
• The Chilla-Gohri range is contagious to Corbett Tiger Reserve (CTR) through Landsdown forest division—the corridor needs to be strengthened, and brought under the management of CTR—the proposal for which is pending with the Uttarakhand government
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