After spending three safaris exploring Tadoba's famous Core Zone, it was finally time to venture into the Buffer Zone. And if there was one reason everyone was excited about this safari, it was the possibility of meeting the queen herself – Zhunabai and her four six-month-old cubs.
To be honest, the Core Zone had already given us more than we could have asked for. Every safari had brought something memorable, and there wasn't a single moment of disappointment. Our hearts were already full, yet somewhere deep inside, we still carried one wish – to see Zhunabai and her family.
With that hope, we started our early morning Buffer Zone safari.
The roads here were much narrower than those in the Core Zone. The forest felt different. Sambars appeared occasionally, peacocks crossed the tracks, and spotted deer watched us cautiously from the trees. Everything seemed routine until barely twenty minutes into the safari.
Suddenly, we noticed several Gypsies speeding in one direction.
Our driver didn't need anyone to explain what was happening. He immediately turned our vehicle and followed them.
The excitement inside the Gypsy instantly shot up.
As we approached the spot, a strange silence took over. The road ahead curved sharply, and nearly eight Gypsies stood between us and whatever everyone had rushed to see. Because of the bend, we couldn't see anything.
And then our driver did something only an experienced Tadoba driver would dare.
He carefully slipped our Gypsy off the track, manoeuvred through bushes and potholes, and somehow brought us ahead of the entire queue. Drivers behind us weren't particularly pleased and their reactions made that quite clear.
But none of that mattered anymore.
At that exact moment, Zhunabai emerged from the trees.
A magnificent tigress, walking confidently down the road.
And behind her, one by one, appeared all four cubs.
It felt unreal.
The kind of sighting you secretly dream about before every safari but never expect to actually witness.
Zhunabai seemed completely relaxed. The line of vehicles didn't bother her. She wasn't anxious about the cubs. She simply walked ahead with the confidence of a queen who knew she ruled this forest.
Her cubs, on the other hand, were full of curiosity and mischief, trotting behind her as though they were out on a morning stroll.
Because we were right at the front, nothing blocked our view. It almost felt like sitting in the best seat of an outdoor theatre, watching one of nature's greatest performances unfold just a few feet away.
For the next two to three minutes, Zhunabai and her cubs continued walking down the road while we followed at a respectful distance.
Then she suddenly stepped into the bushes.
Three cubs followed immediately.
But one little fellow stayed behind.
He stood in the middle of the road, staring at the line of Gypsies, clearly unsure whether he should cross or stay put.
For a few moments, he looked completely lost.
Then came another unforgettable moment.
Zhunabai reappeared.
She had realized one of her cubs hadn't followed.
Without any panic, she calmly returned, waited for him, and together they disappeared into the dense forest.
It was one of those small moments that reveal the bond between a mother and her young, no matter whether it's in the human world or the wild.
By then, our eyes, minds, and cameras were all equally satisfied.
As we headed back, thinking the safari had already peaked, Tadoba had one more surprise waiting for us.
A peacock stood beside the road with its feathers fully spread.
Not during monsoon.
Not under dark clouds.
But on a scorching summer morning.
It was the first time I had ever seen a peacock displaying its feathers in all their glory. The colours shimmered in the sunlight, creating a sight that was impossible to ignore.
A little later, we spotted another peacock bent forward in what looked remarkably like a perfect shirshasan while drinking water from a pond.
Nature certainly has a sense of humour.
Into the Wild from Bellara Gate
Our final safari was from Bellara Gate, located much farther away and in the opposite direction from the zones we had explored earlier.
Bellara wasn't particularly famous for tiger sightings. In fact, most people spoke more about occasional leopard sightings than tigers. It was also the same region where, just weeks earlier, a tiger had been involved in a tragic incident that claimed the lives of four women.
Perhaps because of that history, there was an added sense of mystery as we entered.
Initially, the forest felt surprisingly quiet.
Almost too quiet.
Unlike the other gates, wildlife sightings were scarce. For a while, it felt as though the jungle itself was asleep.
But the deeper we went, the more Bellara began revealing its true character.
This was the kind of forest that matches every childhood imagination of a jungle.
Tall grass rose almost to human height on both sides of the road. The tracks were so narrow that tree branches continuously brushed against our Gypsy. Dense bushes blocked visibility in every direction.
Slowly, an unfamiliar feeling crept in.
Fear.
Not overwhelming fear, but the awareness that something could be hiding just a few feet away and we would never know.
With visibility reduced by the thick grass and vegetation, it was easy to imagine a predator remaining completely unseen until the last second.
The stories of leopards made things even more interesting. Every now and then, our eyes drifted upwards, scanning tree branches and rocky outcrops for any sign of movement.
And yet, despite that tension, Bellara was stunning.
The landscapes here were unlike anything we had seen elsewhere in Tadoba.
Massive rocky patches emerged from the forest floor. Small hill formations looked as though a mighty river might have flowed through this region centuries ago. We passed caves tucked into rocky slopes, and our guide pointed towards one, mentioning that Veera Tigress had recently given birth to two cubs and could possibly be resting somewhere inside.
Water bodies appeared frequently, attracting birds of every shape and size.
Towards the end of the safari, the forest opened into a vast riverbed surrounded by lush green landscapes.
For a photographer, it was paradise.
The birds here seemed completely accustomed to safari vehicles. Unlike elsewhere, they didn't immediately fly away, allowing me to spend time composing shots and observing their behaviour.
As the sun slowly began its descent, golden light spread across the landscape.
And with that, our Tadoba adventure came to an end.
Three days.
Five safaris.
Countless memories.
If someone had described these experiences to us before the trip, we probably would have thought they were exaggerating.
Yet Tadoba gave us all of this and more.
That is perhaps the most beautiful thing about the jungle.
No two safaris are ever the same.
Every drive offers a different story.
Every turn holds a different surprise.
And no matter how much you see, the forest always leaves you with the feeling that there is still so much more waiting to be discovered.
As we left Tadoba behind, we carried home thousands of photographs, unforgettable memories, and one promise.
We will be back.
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