A prince who walked on the wild side

ShareComment
To get such articles in your inbox
Text size: A A A
August 25, 2017 13:17 IST
'A Life With Wildlife is a must for all who are concerned about how a billion Indians will
coexist with over 500 mammals and 1,300 birds, not to mention 25,000 flowering plant
species in the new century,' says Mahesh Rangarajan.

IMAGE: M K Ranjitsinh's book shows how the world in which he grew up, princely
Wankaner, was one where skeins of geese darkened the sky in winter and it could take
hours to cross a road due to large herds of black buck. Photograph: Kind courtesy
HarperCollins India
Readable memoirs by Indian civil servants are few and far between.

The legendary R P (Ronnie) Noronha of the Indian Civil Service penned the classic A Tale Told By An
Idiot, which concludes in the late 1960s.
B K Nehru, with his long distinguished career as bureaucrat, diplomat and governor, penned an
inappropriately titled but charming book called Nice Guys Finish Second.

These gave rare insight into the goings-on at the district and state levels and at the apex of the
political pyramid.

A Life With Wildlife is a different kind of memoir.

It is as much about the passion as about the man himself.

Why a student of masters in history from Delhi's elite St Stephens College and an Indian
Administrative Service officer of the 1961 cadre should be so dedicated to the denizens of the forest
may be a mystery at first sight.

M K Ranjitsinh's work shows how the world in which he grew up, princely Wankaner, a state-let in
Gujarat, was one where skeins of geese darkened the sky in winter and it could take hours to cross a
road due to large herds of black buck.

Having watched these birds and beasts first through the sights of a rifle, for he was an avid shikari, he
later became an ardent conservationist.

This, then, is the story of his journey through life, which has taken him to a host of wild and beautiful
places.

Stunning colour photographs of Indian animals and birds as well as many from remote Asian
landscapes grace the book.

But the core of the story is as riveting and relevant as those who wrote of the corridors of power.

Ranjitsinh argues strongly in favour of a second look at the princely legacy.

As many as 277 of India's parks and sanctuaries, more than one in three, began as a hunting reserve
of the princes.

He shows how some, like the Nawab of Junagadh, took care to protect the rare lions; others, like his
older relative in Dungarpur, reintroduced the tiger once extinct in the forested hills of the state.

Such legacies crumbled after Independence.

Even as he looks back to the days of duck shoots and falconry, beats for tigers and long waits in
machaans, he does much more.
He asks why independent India took a good two decades to get an active machinery in place to save
its wild heritage.

His own life shows up part of the answer.

IMAGE: M K Ranjitsinh's book was launched by then vice president Hamid Ansari.
Photograph: Kind courtesy vicepresidentofindia.nic.in
As a young civil servant he joined forces with forest officials to help secure and protect better the
forests and maidans of the Kanha Park in central India, giving a lease of life to not only the tiger but
the central Indian barasingha (stag).

This slow maturing of awareness of the many ways in which humans were obliterating the natural
world found a champion at the pyramid of power: Indira Gandhi.

The author was in the right place at the right time as director, wildlife preservation and found the
federal government in the early 1970s seized with decisive energy to protect forests, wildlife and
nature.

His recounting shows directives and decisions from the very top, powering the creation of reserves
and all-important laws on forests and wildlife.

It is fascinating that on his return to the state cadre in Madhya Pradesh, he drew on the same laws
and helped vastly expand the acreage of protected areas.

Along the way Ranjitsinh earned a doctorate on the black buck antelope, but the main thrust of the
latter half of the book is not celebration but critique.

For one, he sees in successive governments a weakening of resolve and a lack of appreciation for
the wider role of ecosystems for human welfare.
Short-term gain for economic growth is matched by populist demands for land for cultivation and
livelihood.

To be fair, since his retirement in 1996. he has been a key figure in voluntary efforts including
innovative schemes to compensate cattle-owners for livestock losses to tigers.

He also advocates community-level conservation and does not mince words about government
indifference to the under classes as much as to nature.

Yet, at the end is a nagging question.

If nature to be secured requires power from the top to flow in the desired direction, what when that
resolve weakens?

If anything, the high tides of rapid unplanned growth in democratic India as much as in authoritarian
China will not leave much space for nature.

Securing a wider constituency may need much more than good enforcement and a hard, tough
government.

It may call for a different set of approaches that go beyond the State and into society for succour and
support.

The book does, however, demonstrate an exceptional memory, often stretching back decades.

Encounters with animals and wild places have rarely covered such a spectrum of habitats and
landscapes.

There are also rare vignettes.

When the lion was about to make way for the tiger as India's national animal, the author argued in
favour of keeping the former.

Karan Singh accused him of wanting the lion because it was part of his name and he was a Gujarati.

Ranjitsinh retorted that the latter's nick name was 'tiger'!

He lost this standoff, but seems to have stood his ground against a powerful environment minister,
Bhajan Lal, in the 1980s on the far more important matter of easing environmental protection rules.

All in all, A Life With Wildlife is a deeply educative read and a must for all who are concerned about
how a billion Indians will coexist with over 500 mammals and 1,300 birds not to mention 25,000
flowering plant species in the new century.

This is a fine account of one who tried and, though in his eighties, soldiers on.

The wild may or may not survive unscathed, but this is a fine account of a stout defender of its place
on the planet.

Mahesh Rangarajan
Source: