Chapter 10 - Panna Tiger Reserve

The taxi drivers pounced on us in Satna. They quoted exorbitant prices to take us to Panna Tiger Reserve. I could sense that they had a nexus and the show of trying to beat each other by quoting lower prices was a sham. We settled for a decent looking Maruti Omni. It was driven by a mild mannered middle aged Vijay. He told us that he has been driving a taxi for about 10 years now and ferrying tourists between Satna and Panna Reserve. We agreed to pay him Rs/- 900.

I tried to extract information from him casually about the topography of Panna Reserve, the wildlife, the surrounding area and a bit about the 'baba'. He answered all with interest but the 'baba' question - he seemed startled. On my goading he whispered that the locals do not talk about the 'baba'. My further attempts to lure him into let loose some information about the ‘baba’ turned futile - he remained tight lipped.

While driving through the forest towards Panna Reserve he abruptly took a sharp turn and drove through the thicket. Joe was alarmed and almost reached for his neck. If I had not come to Vijay's rescue Joe would have twisted his neck. He braked and gasped from breath - 'I am trying to help you and you want to kill me. I got you through this secret road so that you guys can make a covert entry into Panna Reserve through the river Ken'. He appeared annoyed and refused to drive any further and kept muttering that he is going to drop us at the reserve gate where we would had to wait until morning to get entry for mere 6 hours of sight seeing.

Neena worked her charm on him and half pleased he took us to Dongo. The place had couple of boats moored and was used by the locals to connect with other village on the river. Ken entered into Panna Reserve after about 35 km in the shape of a thin river with almost unnavigable water. We three had a small meeting and felt that the best way to get entry into Panna and complete challenge three was through this route. But it was fraught with danger and uncertainty, we were politely informed that not many had tried venturing into Panna Reserve and who ever did didn't have good things to talk about on return.

We got one of the locals to loan his motorboat. The motorboat owner was reluctant but the guarantee of the money and some odd and ends assured him of recovery in case the boat would never return.

"I can see some huts about a mile from here," I yelled to Joe and Neena. I was standing on top deck of the rickety motor boat which we had bought off by pawning whatever we had with us.

I had been steering it down the river in heavy downpour for nearly 2 hrs. It was a mesmerizing sight the rain had almost stopped and the hot air was rising up and turning into mist. I stopped breathing for a while, the stillness of the place seeped into my pores. I killed the engine and the boat slowly drifted down the river like a lifeless log. Joe and Neena joined me on the top deck and they gaped at the sight. It was a shallow marshy ground with long green bladed abruptly interrupted by a range of small hills with flowers all over. White birds chirped and welcomed us by hovering over our boat. "Are we in heaven or do I see trouble," Neena shrugged.

[SHARK IN A POND]