We caught an early morning flight from Pune at 5:00 AM and landed in Nagpur by 6:10 AM. Our entire Nagpur-to-Nagpur travel package had been arranged by Beyond Wild, and their Innova was waiting for us at the airport. After a quick breakfast en route, we reached our resort, Taru Van, around 9:30 AM.
One of the biggest advantages of this resort was its location—it was barely 30 seconds from Kolara Gate, one of the main entry points into Tadoba. With nearly 22 safari gates spread across the reserve, staying this close was a blessing. Since we had booked our trip back in December, we managed to secure accommodation right next to the gate, saving both travel time and additional costs.
We had planned a total of five safaris across both the Core and Buffer zones, with morning drives from 5:30 AM to 9:30 AM and evening safaris from 3:00 PM to 7:00 PM.
After lunch and a short afternoon nap, we stepped out of our rooms only to find the sky covered in dark, ominous clouds. Distant thunder rumbled continuously. On one hand, we were relieved that the scorching summer sun might spare us; on the other, the possibility of rain was worrying. Wildlife activity often slows during heavy showers, and our camera gear certainly wasn't built for getting drenched. Only the GoPro could claim to be truly waterproof.
The weather had transformed completely. We had arrived prepared to battle Tadoba's notorious 46°C summer heat, but now it seemed we would be battling rain instead.
At 3:00 PM, the gates opened and our very first safari began. Barely five minutes into the drive, the rain started. What began as a gentle drizzle quickly turned into a torrential downpour. The season's first rains washed over the forest, soaking every leaf, branch, and trail.
Within fifteen minutes, we had our first exciting sighting—wild dogs. At first glance, they appear surprisingly small and harmless. But these predators are among the most efficient hunters in the jungle. They work as a pack, relentlessly chasing their prey and often beginning to feed before the victim has even succumbed. Deer and even tiger cubs can fall prey to these fearless hunters.
After drenching both the forest and us for nearly half an hour, the rain finally eased.
As we continued deeper into the jungle, sightings came one after another—sambar deer, large herds of spotted deer, peacocks, gaurs, and monkeys. Yet our eyes were searching for only one creature: the undisputed king of Tadoba—the tiger.
There's a saying among wildlife enthusiasts: you don't find a tiger; the forest leads you to one.
As our vehicle moved along, alarm calls suddenly erupted nearby. Sambars barked. Deer stood alert. Monkeys called out from the trees. The forest was sending a message:
"He's coming."
The intensity and frequency of the calls increased. The sky remained dark, raindrops still fell intermittently, and the cool, mysterious atmosphere made those warning calls even more dramatic. A strange mix of anticipation and nervousness swept through us.
Then, without warning, he appeared.
Barely 25–30 feet from our jeep.
Calm. Confident. Completely unbothered.
The expression on his face seemed to say that he feared absolutely nothing. It was a young male tiger, around two years old, the son of the famous tigress Bijli, just entering his prime.
Excitement, awe, and a touch of fear rushed through us all at once.
He walked leisurely along the track for a few minutes before disappearing back into the vegetation. Our vehicles meant nothing to him. It was as if we didn't even exist.
"He's heading towards the waterhole," our guide whispered.
We followed.
About 500 meters ahead, we found him again. He was resting comfortably in the shade, grooming himself. Through a natural opening in the foliage, we had a perfect portrait frame. At one point, he looked directly into the camera for a brief second, gifting us the kind of shot every wildlife photographer dreams about.
We spent the next fifteen minutes simply watching him before moving on to explore another section of the forest.
The safari continued with sightings of wild boar, impressive male sambars carrying massive antlers, and a crocodile lounging near the riverbank. Eventually, after covering the day's route, we returned to the same waterhole where we had first encountered the tiger.
By now, the clouds had cleared. Golden evening sunlight filtered through the trees, bathing the landscape in warm hues.
The waterhole appeared quiet.
No sign of the tiger.
We parked our jeep in an ideal position directly opposite the clearing and waited.
The forest fell silent.
"I'm sure he'll come back," our guide said confidently. "Or perhaps he's already somewhere nearby."
About fifteen minutes later, a lone female sambar cautiously emerged from the bushes, carefully scanning the surroundings. She seemed to be checking whether it was safe.
It reminded me of a famous scene from the movie Sarfarosh, where a scout arrives before the main character, prompting Aamir Khan's memorable line:
"The dog has come to sniff around. Let him."
And that was exactly what seemed to be happening.
A few moments later, the entire herd stepped out. Every animal was alert. Tails raised. Alarm calls continued. Slowly and cautiously, they edged toward the water.
Then it happened.
A thunderous roar echoed across the forest.
The tiger appeared in a flash on the hill directly opposite us.
It was almost as if he was announcing:
"This is my territory."
The deer instantly retreated, but the tiger settled himself proudly on the hillside, posing magnificently in full view.
At that moment, our guide laughed and said,
"Go ahead—take every photo you've ever wanted.", he might have said
Portraits. Landscapes. Close-ups. Wide-angle shots.
We photographed him from every possible angle before finally lowering our cameras and simply watching.
Many visitors spend years coming to Tadoba without ever seeing a tiger. Yet here we were, on our very first safari, watching one from remarkably close range and observing him for several unforgettable minutes.
The joy was overwhelming.
The cool weather had transformed Tadoba into something that felt more like a hill station than a summer forest. And there, bathed in golden light, sat the tiger we had travelled so far to see.
Every time I look at that photograph of him perched on the hill, I'll be transported back to that magical evening—and the feeling of wonder will be just as strong as it was in that moment.
pkill -9 "fluent-se
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