20 minutes face-to-face with a tiger in the Sundarbans
About a year ago, I joined the international organisation Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS). My place of posting is in Khulna. On behalf of WCS Bangladesh, we provide technical support to the field-level staff of the Bangladesh Forest Department so that they can contribute effectively to wildlife observation and conservation.
This role often requires me to travel into the Sundarbans. On 11 April, I once again embarked on a journey from Mongla towards the Sarankhola range. As always, I was accompanied by boatman Alamgir.
We began our journey in the morning and reached Harintana via the Shaila River by late afternoon. Daylight had already begun to fade within the forest. Our boat was moving along a canal approximately 250 feet wide. At one point, I noticed movement within the bushes. A fleeting glance revealed that the creature was none other than a tiger.
By then, our boat had moved a little further ahead. In a low voice, I told the boatman, “Brother, I just saw a tiger. Please reverse the boat.”
Every time I venture into the forest, I always make a playful request to Alamgir Bhai as soon as I board the boat, “Brother, you must show me a tiger this time!” he always laughs and shares various stories about tiger sightings. But somehow, I never managed to see one. Strangely enough, this time, I hadn’t made that usual request while leaving Mongla but this time…!
As soon as we reversed the boat, we saw not one but two tigers. One had its head poking out from the bushes, while the other stood a short distance away beneath the golpata fronds. One of them was staring directly at me with intense curiosity. It seemed to be observing out every movement with great attention.
While observing them, I completely forgot about taking photographs. It was only later that I realised I had not even taken the camera out of the bag. In a hurry, I took out the camera and attached the lens, which took about a minute. I then began clicking rapidly. In the meantime, the tigers had changed their positions. They had skillfully concealed themselves within the natural cover of golpata, sundari and gewa trees. No wonder they’re called ‘stealthy hunters’’! I could no longer capture both of them in the same frame. While focusing on one, the other would slip behind the foliage. As dusk was approaching, the light had also begun to fade. I had no choice but to take photographs and videos in low light.
About twenty minutes passed in this manner. Judging by their movements, it appeared they were waiting to cross the canal. We had interrupted them. Our presence was blocking their path in their own territory. When I shared this thought with Alamgir brother, he started the boat engine.
By that time, evening had descended. I sat in the boat, trembling with excitement. Had this unbelievable moment truly happened in my life? As I pondered this, I checked the photos and videos I had just captured. Once I saw the images, there was no room for doubt.
That night, I joined the smart team at the Sarankhola range. They were delighted to see the photos. Some of them have been working in the Sundarbans for over a decade but have never encountered a tiger. Others may have had sudden sightings but without the opportunity to take photographs, a source of lasting regret. Listening to everyone’s stories of missed opportunities, I couldn’t help but feel fortunate.