CRYING TIGER

The tiger， living fire of the indian forest， might soon be snuffed out forever. According to the latest national tiger Conservation Authority’s report there are only 1，411 tigers in the wild in the country. Indeed， the NTCA has added that its study has an error margin， which could bring the estimated tiger population down to less than 1，200. With human encroachments and poaching on the rise， the magnificent lord of the wilderness， rippling like liquid flame through the jungle， could face extinction unless drastic steps are taken.

How do we save the tiger？ A number of practical measures have been suggested. Concentrate on areas where the tiger remains the best protected， for example in Corbett national Park， Kanha， Bandhavgarh. Strictly enforce antiencroachment laws. Provide more sophisticated firearms to forest guards. Involve local communities in tiger preservation projects. Make poaching a crime equivalent to murder， carrying no less than a life sentence. Reward informants who help in the apprehension and conviction of poachers. Synchronise an international clampdown on the clandestine， but still booming， trade in tiger skins and organs， the latter prized—particularly in China—for their supposedly aphrodisiacal qualities.

All these measures could， and should， be adopted. But if the indian tiger is to be preserved outside of zoos， perhaps its best hope of survival would lie in being exported to a more economically advanced and environmentally conscious country where it can breed in the wild with minimal fear of poaching or diminution of its habitat through human encroachment.

The truth is that we have only too tragically proved that we don’t deserve the striped splendour of the tiger， any more than we do our manmade heritage of monuments and ancient artworks， many if not most of which are in a disgraceful state of malign neglect or have been spirited out of the country by smugglers， often aided and abetted by officials whose function it is precisely to prevent such theft.

It’s not just the tiger that is dying out. The gir lion， once the pride of gujarat， has become a cruel travesty of its former glory. Not only has the lion population shrunk to a little more than a couple of hundred， but the few pitiful survivors， overexposed to unchecked hordes of tourists and sightseers， have virtually been reduced to the status of domestic pets， gratefully accepting vegetarian snacks from shudh shakahari visitors.

Lions， tigers and leopards are not cuddly toys， to be figuratively hugged out of an access of dewy-eyed sentimentalism. Left unmolested in their natural habitat they are marvellously efficient predators， at the pinnacle of the food chain which in its totality ensures the overall health of the environment. This is the ecological and scientific rationale behind preservation： the pug mark as a medical certificate for the habitat as a whole.

Already we have laid waste to much of the big cats’ natural domain： far short of the government target of bringing 33 percent of the total land area under tree cover， currently only 20.6 percent of the country is forested， of which some 8 percent is ‘open’ （degraded） forest. In the past two years， a 728-sq-km aggregate area of forest has been chopped down. We seem to be unable， or unwilling， or both， to save our forests. How do we then dare to presume that we can， or even want to， save the tiger？ It’s like saying we want to save the child even as we busy ourselves destroying the physical and emotional landscape of childhood.

Coleridge said that the right of ownership of a book depended on how well or how poorly one understood its contents， and what it meant. You couldn’t just own a book； you had to deserve owning it.

Do we deserve the tiger？ Or， for that matter， the taj Mahal， arguably the world’s most-loved monument， whose future has been threatened by unchecked atmospheric pollution from the Mathura oil refinery and innumerable small-scale industries in and around Agra？ Or how about the Kohinoor， which we keep demanding back from the British who stole it from us？ Suppose we got the Kohinoor back： how long before scam-tainted india turned the world’s most famous jewel into a nakli substitute in a scandal called Diamondgate？

Do we really deserve our treasures， starting with the tiger， or would they really be much safer elsewhere？ Do we really want to save the tiger， other than as a zoological curio， a museum exhibit？ Then export it en masse to less savagely exploitative climes. Else a future Blake could well write of us in scornful bewilderment：

Tiger！ Tiger！ Dying light/ In the forest of our blight/ What immoral land of lies/ Could unframe thy wondrous symmetries？