The Chase
III.II.VII
THE CHASE
Kathmandu, check. Pokhara, check. And up next was our third and final stop – Chitwan. I might have had no expectations for Nepal, but this I definitely looked forward to. From the little research I had done before going to Nepal, this place felt synonymous with adventure. Finally!
Arriving at the hotel, we were quite… surprised? Surprised’s not really the right term, I guess. Flabbergasted? Sure, let’s go with that. We were quite flabbergasted to see… elephants. Yes, elephants. At the hotel. That’s right. The hotel’s very own elephants. Two Asian elephants – a mother and her calf – the first I’d ever seen. It’s true what they say: they are majestic beasts indeed. With thick, hard, leathery skin, huge floppy ears, and their highly muscular, coordinated trunks, Asian elephants stand tall at around two and a half meters.
But it wasn’t any of that that captivated me. It was their eyes. I don’t mean to make your eyes roll, but the minute I looked into them I was mesmerised. Whilst they say eyes are the window to the soul, it felt as if they could look right through mine. It might have been me trying to find meaning where there is none, but to me, their eyes were poetry.
Or maybe it wasn’t any of that. Maybe, it was just their chains. Maybe their expression was just a product of their captivity. You see, elephant tourism is a big thing in Chitwan – specifically for elephant back safaris and elephant baths. Before arriving there, we had done plenty of research about this. We found that abusive and unethical practices are commonplace with this business, but not so in Nepal. We were told that these same elephants are used by locals to go on anti-poaching rides in an effort to protect animals such as the Bengal tiger and the Indian rhinoceros and that the revenue brought in by such a business is used so that the national parks themselves can remain open.
I have to admit that back then, the concept of responsible traveling was not one I was familiar with. I wanted to ride an elephant for the experience, and in hindsight, I think I tried to rationalise the situation in favour of going for it – and so I did. It was a unique experience. I can’t deny that. Going through the jungle and witnessing such varied wildlife on the back of such an animal was a privilege. But would I do it again? I don’t think so.
From what I saw, the elephants weren’t being actively ill-treated. Much like a horse rider would prod their steed to push them forward, so did the guides. But time and time again, our elephant would almost slip, having to carry the weight of four grown adults on its back – something that made my stomach churn every single time. And it’s not just that. What I saw and what they actually go through behind the scenes might be a completely different story. I couldn’t help but think back to those chains, those eyes. Later on, I also learned that the process of domestication is anything but humane. Even later, when the remake of Dumbo came out, I felt like one of the bad guys myself – like I was an accomplice.
It wasn’t only on the elephant’s back that we got to enjoy the jungle. Led by a guide, we also went on a couple of hikes and canoed over the rivers of Chitwan, where we got a first-hand experience of the thriving wildlife. From frogs to deer, black-winged dragonlets to red cotton bugs, the zoologist within me was unashamedly tap dancing and doing jazz hands.
We did way more than just observe and watch. When I said first-hand experience, I really meant it. When I was very young, I discovered that leeches – tiny slug-like creatures which suck blood – existed. By then, I had already grown used to the idea of bats and vampires, but leeches? So damn cool, man! Count Dracula could only dream of having their teeth. I’ve been obsessed with them ever since – especially when I got to see them being put to good use at the hospital.
Fast forward a few years, and I’d be in a jungle supposedly infested with these magical vampiric creatures. All I had ever wanted since I was a kid was to be bitten by one, and finally, I was in their territory! Every minute promised a possible ambush by one of the many little critters. But on and on we hiked, the elusiveness of the mythological beasts increasing by the second. And so I gave up. I rarely do, but I did that time. Dejected though I had been, I continued to walk the trail. Fortunately, being in a jungle is already quite a distraction – you’re always busy looking at one thing or another. One minute it’s the ground, watching out for rocks or roots; the next, it’s a movement you notice in a bush that could potentially be one of the most interesting animals you’ve ever seen.
You don’t really care about the mundane – you don’t look at your shoes as they hit the ground or your arms as they swing mid-step. And so I dismissed the black spot I casually saw on my arm while walking as some dried-up mud and continued onwards. And onwards and onwards. Suddenly, the tiny black spot that was barely even a blip on my peripheral vision’s radar kept growing until it became all I could notice. And suddenly that amorphous blob of mud transfigured itself into the godly shape of a leech. A glorious, glorious leech.
Years and years of waiting, biding my time, culminated in this one shriek of joy as I suddenly found myself a new companion – Lily the Leech. Oh, how she sucked and throbbed. For dozens of minutes she fed on me. Until she didn’t anymore. Only then did I notice she was gone, leaving behind an oozing circular indentation and a memory that will last a lifetime. Thank you, Lily.
Our zoological adventures weren’t over quite yet. During another one of these hikes, our guide suddenly halted and signalled for us to be quiet. A few yards ahead of us was yet another majestic beast: an Indian friggin rhinoceros – in all its glory!
We observed it from afar and made sure to be as quiet as possible. Only our ‘as quiet as possible’ wasn’t as quiet as we thought. The rhino we were observing caught wind of another rhino, and a fight ensued. They charged toward each other, and after a few seconds of pushing and shoving, it was all over. Having lost the battle, one of the beasts somehow caught a glimpse of us, locked eyes with ours, and suddenly, the ones doing the observing became the ones being observed. After a few seconds, the ones being observed became the ones being chased.
You know, I’m a pretty adventurous guy. I also have a couple of self-destructive tendencies. But seeing a rhino charge at us at full speed made me realise adventures have a time and place, and after a couple of photos, my instincts for self-preservation kicked in. From what I could gather, our strategy was to outrun it – or at least that’s what everyone tried to do. And so I followed. Only I was wearing flip-flops, which, just as an FYI, are not the best kind of footwear for sprinting.
“Why was I wearing flip-flops in the middle of the jungle?” you might be asking. Excellent question! Our program said we’d have a walk around town. A walk. That’s it. You know what flip-flops are good for? Walks. And so, when that walk turned into a hike, and then that hike turned into a chase, you can imagine how ecstatic I felt. Realising I’d be better off barefoot, I crouched down to take them off – the perfect opportunity for this chick to shove me aside in order to outrun me and ensure her survival.
I get it, I really do. It’s an evolutionary trait. In these cases, it’s either fight or flight. And she chose flight. Only after a minute she was already heaving and panting as if she had just crossed the finish line of the Tour de friggin’ France. Sure enough, she was biting my dust seconds later, and apparently so was the rhino, as it was no longer in sight after a while. Only god knows where it ended up. Perhaps it was feasting on my aggressor. What a pity that would’ve been, right? I mean, to be completely fair, that would also be an example of evolution at work. It’s called natural selection. And man, was I fine with it.
As the day wound down, we found ourselves at the edge of the river, watching the sun sink slowly behind the jungle canopy. The sky exploded in shades of gold, pink, and orange, reflecting off the water like a molten painting.
After all the chaos, the leech bites, the rhino chase, the elephants, and the bugs, it felt like the jungle had finally exhaled. Silence settled over the landscape, broken only by the distant calls of birds and the gentle lapping of the river. We cheered to an incredible adventure with a good ol’ beer as we let the wildness of the day sink in, and for a moment, everything – the adventure, the fear, the awe – felt perfectly balanced.
Nepal had been unpredictable, intense, sometimes uncomfortable, but utterly unforgettable. And as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the trees, I knew I was leaving a piece of my heart in this country. Dhanyabād Nepal!