Viajar el mundo: The Adventures of Kylie's Cat

13th April 2013

Pooh would always win the hide and seek games

Agra, and another railway station where the entire population seemed to be wanting to catch a train out of there (or that’s where the homeless live, who knows?). So we mingled into the pack and found our train that was taking us south towards a little adventure.

The pants thief had found another victim

We had a 2AC cabin again, but this time the beds were on the side, as opposed to a 4-berth cabin that has much more space than the side. Essentially, you have to learn to lie flat for ten hours due to the fact that there is no room to turn around or shuffle about. They are about 5 foot 9 inches in length; so ok for the average person but anyone who tends to graze the clouds will have an even more restless night on Indian trains, if that’s at all possible. Originally, I was meant to be in a four-berth cabin while Kylie was on the side, but we managed to change so that we were together. However, another Indian passenger made that decision for me, by stealing my bed. Right in front of my nose, he waltzed into the four-berth and re-visited the ill-fated planking craze and stayed there all night. This is not uncommon in India; unless you are chained to something, a bed, bus seat, earth, that thing is not yours, despite what your ticket or any human rights convention says so.

The blind monkey would never cross the road

Having a funny tummy is common in India, in fact it’s expected. And we have obliged many a time here. In fact, in the rare event of a solid stool or feeling of perfection for more than 24 hours, we will consider admitting ourselves to emergency to rectify that abnormality. We learn to handle things with good doses of Imodium and the occasional antibiotic bought off of the clandestine pharmacy on the side of the street, which may in fact be sugar cubes. The trick is to control things and hope that you don’t get crook on a public transport journey, especially a train, which would then mean frequent visits to the on-board facilities, which is actually just a hole in the train floor that opens over the tracks and becomes lunch for the cows and dogs of the rural areas we passed through. Unfortunately for both of us, a dodgy pasta, possible full of poison or simply just prepared with the usual lack of hygiene we ate from a guesthouse before boarding, decided to make quick exits at 2am, 4am, and 6am.

I also managed to destroy part of the train. During my need for a quick escape from bed, I was unable to find the step down from the top bunk, so I decided that I would leap onto the floor and grab hold of what looked like a solid curtain railing parallel to my bunk. As the other passengers the length of the cabin found out when they were awoken in the middle of the night with an almighty crash, it was not so secure at all, and came apart with ease as the curtains and shingles all slid off the railing towards the central meeting point which was my hand. I let go of the evidence and ran and tried to claim innocence, and upon returning when the scene was calmer, noticed that a young lady from the bunk next to me had already started the repair work. I shook my head in disgust at the actions of this culprit, and snuck back into my bunk and tried to get some sleep while she got on with the job.

The mutant Bambi. All horn, no head

With sunrise came the obligatory views out of the carriage window of locals shitting on the side of the tracks and waving to us with their poo hand. A short time later we arrived in Katni, blight on the planet in the middle of Madhya Pradesh state in the middle of India. From here it was another three hours by road to our destination, but instead of taking the bumpy road by bus, we took the bumpy road by a pre arranged AC car, and sat back and enjoyed. The driver had some interesting adult DVD covers on the seat that he forgot to cover up. Bollywood Man Love seemed to be his favourite genre.

The purpose of our visit here was to spot some tigers in the Bandhavgarh National Park, world famous and home to some thirty odd beautiful big cats who were verging on the point of extinction not so long ago. Brilliant conservation efforts from the authorities here have led to a slow but steady increase in numbers of the years and now all can enjoy them.

Luxury tent porch, great for spotting nothing

We decided on a lap of luxury for this part of our trip. We ditched the simple lodgings and arranged for three days in the purpose built Monsoon Resort, nestled in scrub and bushland just outside the buffer zone of the National Park. Our home was a luxury tent with possibly the world’s most comfortable bed, and as far away from honking traffic and Indian noise as one could wish to be. All meals were all taken care of, so it is simply a superb opportunity to relax in comfort and enjoy the elegant natural surroundings that the national park has to offer, including a good supply of wildlife such as Langur and Rhesus monkeys and Kingfisher birds. There is a local village nearby where elephants roam and children only let you pass as long as you take their photo and show it to them on your digital screen. They then fix you up with a fresh papaya and cheerily send you on your way. The resort even has a nice cold pool to relax by, essential as the daytime temperatures here are blitzing into the high forties at the moment.

Now it was Tiggers turn to hide

At 5am each morning the wake up call sounded to gather into waiting jeeps and head deep into the park on safari, to track down and view tigers. On the first two days we had no luck, such is the rule of the wild. We crossed bumpy tracks and followed footprints of the cats, and although some others on jeeps caught fleeting glimpses or prolonged scenes of feline mastery, we were unlucky. Although we were thrilled to have caught the rare sight of a family of Sloth Bears, complete with back-riding cubs, five in all. Even the guide and driver were super excited, as it’s extremely difficult to spot the bears in this type of situation. No sooner had they flashed upon us than they disappeared into the forest.

On the second day our lack of luck continued and we seemed to be driving around aimlessly, hoping a tiger would understand our plight and show his stripy face soon. After a dusty and incessantly hot 4 hours in the park, we returned to camp, dejected. We had only pre-booked two safaris; we thought that that would be adequate as this is the optimum time of the year to find tigers, and it can be difficult to arrange safaris locally at last minute. After some asking around, there was a spare jeep and permits into the park, and that afternoon we headed to a different section, more lush and marshy, with more shade and waterholes where the tigers liked to hang out.

The fans clearly found out that cheap seats didn't have the best views

An hour into the safari the driver heard a rumour that there was a tigress by the lake in another part of the park. This part was actually in the off limits section, but he turned to us and said “Hold on, we have to drive fast to get there, its illegal to be there, but who cares, lets go!” And fast did he drive. He motored through the narrowed tracks, barely missing trees and sending Spotted Deer and Wild Chickens scurrying over the forest floor. We even became airborne at times, as this adventure clicked up a gear. Eventually we arrived at his secret spot, as did seven other jeeps with the same message. And there in the short distance, was a thing of remarkable beauty like few other animals on earth. Resplendent in her black and orange suit, and her white chest. She strolled with poise and grace through the grass, stopping at times to look around at the interested human onlookers. She has the elegance and sophistication like no other. She rules these parts and has the looks to match her regal lines. But then again, she is still a cat, and proved it by slumping into the grass, and rolling on her back, exposing that stunning white undercoat. Her paws were shadow boxing the air, only returning occasionally to her face for a cleansing lick. Her long black tail was busy brushing flies away, and probably beggars, and every now and then she would return to her haunches and look around the place, only to return again to her playful state. All while a bunch of people looked on in awe and wonder. I think she would have been equally as happy with a ball of yarn or a gecko on a string. We named her of course; Kylie's Cat was the best we could come up with at short notice.

Just before sunset and before we were required to leave the park and avoid the rangers ire, she rose and danced towards a cackling crow who was giving her the shits with all its useless noise. One glare into the tree from this feline and the chatter had abated, and the crow took off. One beast rules these parts. Know it.

Tiger in the rear view mirror means driver faster

We returned to camp on a high, after all, when we decided to go to India at that planning stage years ago, the number one reason was to spot the wild and elusive tigers in their natural habitat. It’s a shame we didn’t get to witness a kill, Christ, there were enough useless deer to feed on, but you can’t have it all. Apart from the tiger, we also spotted the aforementioned deer, more packs of masturbating monkeys than you care to know about, packs of wild boars and a birders compendium of unique avian species.

The last day in camp was spent in relaxation, eating and lying about in our air conditioned luxury tent, which was more like a canvas palace rather than something you generally camp in, trying to escape the blistering heat, while we wait for our afternoon transfer with our porn loving driver to Katni railway station. We passed and ignored the rickshaw requests from the red-rotten toothed drivers, stained from the tobacco like substance that is Paan. You see many red blotches on pavements, walls and anywhere else other than a bin or handkerchief in India, and this is not blood, but due to the spitting that along with railroad defecation, staring and cricket, is a national sport of the country. In fact, even signs announcing “No Spitting” are generally covered in phlegm and pawn.

Spotting tigers...

Not spotting Tigers

Delhi, is the capital of India, and of course it is nuts. It also has the usual depraved levels of poverty that no nation, let alone a so-called “modern” one, should have. It’s dirty and overcrowded in parts and reeks of noise din. However, behind this there are some redeeming features around, a grand Red Fort, many historical temples (not that we visited, we are over temples… zzz) and inviting open spaces, as well as an extremely efficient metro transport system that rivals many other first world cities. Delhi also has cricket, and fans that are nuts for it. We spent a night at the phenomenon that is IPL cricket, and watched some of the worlds best players knock about as part of this moneymaking extravaganza.

The evil masturbating monkeys. Look away

Now, finally, our seven-week trip around India has come to an end.

India has a love hate relationship with those that visit here. That is, you either love it, or hate it. We are somewhere in between, although in honestly the fence has leant far more to the latter for the majority of the time. It’s not possible to fully appreciate a country unless you are prepared to immerse yourself into it. By this you see the world that is India from every possible angle, both agreeable and never going back. India has both splendour and sadness. It has simpleness and downright difficulty. It provokes memorable smiles and frustration and despair. It’s incredible, in every way. You will shake your head in amazement, disbelief and dismay, in both positive and negative ways. It is a world of contrasts.

For every opulent Maharaja palace there is a family born into fetid, soul rescinding poverty. For every tiger there is a limbless street dog. For every delicious mouth-watering curry delicacy there is a night on the loo. For every serene moment watching one of the country’s stunning sunsets, there is a chaotic, deafening polluted din of being gridlocked in notorious streets of an overpopulated nation. For every charming chirp of the Kingfisher, India’s national bird, there is the incessant rickshaw horn. For every Taj Mahal there is a shit filled river flowing by it.