Set on the grounds of an old colonial hunting lodge Jaagir Manor is the place to see majestic Bengal tigers in the wild

 Words: Will Moffitt

Simran, our guide, studies the floor of the shaded forest broken by pockets of early morning light. “These roads are like a morning newspaper for us,” he says, scrutinising the path with forensic precision. Rumbling in a 4×4 through Dudhwa National Park, a wilderness of forest, grassland, rivers and swampland in the Terai region of Northern India, near the Indo-Nepal border, we search for a quasi-mythical predator.

Bengal Tigers have populated the Indian subcontinent for approximately 12,000 to 16,500 years, mating, hunting and roaming territories stretching across 100 square kilometres. We rumble through thick patches of forest clotted with teak, acacia and banyan trees. Deer speckled with white dots bunch together. Swamp franklin birds call in screechy bursts.

Time blurs as we venture deeper into Dudhwa. More driving, and more forest; more searching for life in grassy stretches; more staring at track marks, willing them to reveal precious secrets; more scanning and straining; breaking and accelerating; gazing into dense thickets, hoping for a flash of orange. And then, suddenly, “Tiger!” “Tiger! Tiger!” Simran shouts. He points down the track to a dusty stretch.

A tigress prowls and a cub follows in tow. The big cat travels towards us very slowly, its paws mapping in a strong deliberate rhythm. Its mane is a soft orange fading to hazy gold. Black sashes wrap its torso like tribal tattoos, its noble triangular face pulled back towards its ears. Its eyes give nothing away — it looks neither angry nor startled. It barely looks at us, marching on a few yards down the track before slinking off into the undergrowth.

Hidden away at the edge of a rural village, Jaagir Manor was built in the 1940s during British colonial rule as a jungle lodge and hunting retreat for British governors and aristocrats. The place retains Victorian era-styling: wide verandas, tall windows and formal lounges.

Vines droop from the rafters of the white washed main lodge which sports a polished crest crossed with old scimitars. Deer antlers and faded sepia-toned photographs of deceased maharajas and colonial hunters grace the walls.  

Kamal Singh, the lodge’s owner, is exceptionally tall with a white beard. He greets me warmly by a lush lawn sprouting palms and exotic flowers. Jaagir Manor is his ancestral home, a place where generations of his family have lived. It’s a tranquil place to reside set beside orchards thick with lychee trees. My premium suite is a heritage room with a four-poster bed, plantation fan and gauzy drapes. 

 

Stacks of books on my bedside table are penned by the legendary Billy Arjan Singh, a former hunter turned conservationist who played a formative role in establishing Dudhwa National Park. In 1959 Arjan Singh purchased land to create a protected space he named “Tiger Haven”, hand-rearing leopard and tiger cubs – famously Prince (a leopard) and Tara (a tigress acquired from Twycross Zoo) – and reintroducing them into the wild. 

Stilted villas with thatched roofs are available too. Elegantly designed by Kamal’s wife Deepi the interiors are rustic chic, with private sit-outs leaning towards orchards and teak groves. The Pavilion, Jaagir’s all-day dining space, serves aromatic curries, local vegetables and forest-foraged delicacies, made to an impressive standard given the remoteness.

Western staples are available but why would you come all this way and not tuck into local cuisine served on a glinting thali? You could comfortably spend a day at the lodge, lounging beside the pool or sipping drinks in the safari lounge, but it's the lure of the wild that brings people to Jaagir.

The draw is beyond its edges in the untamed jungle and forests where dawn light turns the canopies into a grey patchwork quilt. The waking day brings with it renewed optimism in the search for the elusive, quasi-mythical big cat. The fact a sighting is not guaranteed is what makes seeing a Bengal tiger so special. After two days being denied that gift I was itching to see another before leaving.

The clock was ticking as dusk grew closer. That restlessness subsided as we caught a glimpse of a tiger hiding behind a wall of teak and thin grass.  He watched and listened for what felt like forever, ears pricked, whiskers curled, nose wrinkling. Then, quite suddenly, he vanished into the bush with a flash of his beautiful tail.