What’s it like cycling 150 kilometers through India’s prime tiger territory?

The village road ahead looks daunting—a gravel path interspersed with people, cows, and stray dogs. As an urban cyclist, I’m more used to the garden-variety cycling path; paved and neatly demarcated, free of walkers and wandering animals.

But this cycling trip had promised to be the trip of a lifetime—three days of cycling around Kanha National Park, also known as Kanha Tiger Reserve, in central India, which happens to be prime tiger territory. Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book is said to be based on his experiences in this part of India, in the state of Madhya Pradesh.

Our group of eight female cyclists—led by organizers and keen cyclists Katie Bhujwala, a longtime India resident, and Sophie Hartman, an India aficionado—had begun from Shergarh, a cozy tented lodge close to the Mukki Gate of Kanha National Park. Shergarh, which opened in 2004, is owned by Katie and her husband, geologist and naturalist Jehan Bhujwala, and the couple have been cycling through the region since. After the arrival of their two children, they took the kids along for the ride too.

Even after three decades of living in central India, Katie remains enamored by the place. “This is such an interesting part of rural India,” she tells me. “You can experience authentic rural life here,” she adds. The Bhujwalas wanted to share these local experiences with Shergarh’s guests and soon began taking them on cycling day-trips. “Most people come here for back-to-back tiger safaris, but there’s a whole world of experiences at our doorstep,” Katie says. It’s experiences such as visiting local markets and meeting artisans on these cycling day trips that give guests closer interaction with the Gond and Baiga communities who have called this region home for centuries.

A few years before COVID-19 changed the world, Katie had been speaking with her friend Sophie Hartman—who has been cycling around central India since 2007—to take guests on overnight cycling trips. She’s the owner of Holidays in Rural India, a small travel company that organizes tailored holidays for British travelers to India.

During the long COVID-19 lockdown that followed in 2020 and 2021, Sophie spent months at Shergarh with Katie. The duo used this time to cycle around Kanha National Park and identify a route that would be suitable for adventurous guests who wanted more from central India visit than tiger safaris. Overnight cycling in Kanha’s landscape would give visitors a chance to experience local communities and cultures in a more engaging way.

According to the national tiger census of 2022, Kanha National Park is home to over 100 tigers, with Madhya Pradesh being the Indian state with the most number of tigers—nearly 800. This makes tiger reserves in the state, like Kanha and Bandhavgarh, some of the best places in the world to spot this big cat.

And that’s how I got here. I’m now one-eighth of a group that I’ve nicknamed ‘The sisterhood of the cycling pants’, a play on the movie title The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. We are of all ages and backgrounds, with mixed nationalities and heritages, but we share a deep love for India, adventure, and cycling. Some of us speak Hindi including me; and I’m looking forward to talking to people we’d meet.

In the first couple of hours, we cycle on sandy paths and gravel roads, admire the striking blue houses of the Gond and Baiga people, ride past bright-yellow mustard fields, and chat with locals. We even make it across the often-slippery and sharp, but now-shallow, pebble-bottomed Banjar River barefoot, with our bicycles in tow.

Along the way, we observe many women carefully balancing steel pots filled with water, or firewood, on their heads. We’re able to identify the Baiga women by the small, nature-inspired tattoos on their foreheads, arms and legs, most of which are inspired by nature. The motifs of flowers, leaves, peacock, fish, and other elements from the natural world, represent various phases in the life of a Baiga woman and hold social, cultural, or spiritual significance. Girls begin to receive tattoos from as early as the age of five. By the age of 20, a Baiga woman’s body is covered by tattoos.

While the Gonds were also known in the past for their tattoos, Sophie speculates that several from the community have distanced themselves from this tradition, for fear of standing out in their ‘modern’ work environments.

While the origins of both groups are unclear, Katie informs me that the Gonds were the ruling class of the area for several centuries. “This meant they had more contact and intermingling with outside and non-tribal communities,” she explains. “This has influenced their evolution and sense of identity,” she adds. “You’ll find Gonds living in villages as well as urban areas.”

Based on her observations over the years, Sophie shares that several people from the Gond community are now in modern jobs, such as in the tourism sector—and are faring better economically.

In comparison, the Baiga community has remained more closely connected to their traditions. They live in mud houses on the fringes of the forest, while practicing subsistence agriculture, and are revered for their knowledge of forest medicine. “The disparity between these two communities is becoming increasingly visible,” adds Katie. The Gonds are known for their unique painting style, Gond art, while the tattooing culture of Baiga women is often in the spotlight.

As we cycle along, every forested stretch we pass through raises my hopes of spotting a tiger hiding in the shadows. According to the national tiger census of 2022, Kanha National Park is home to over 100 tigers, with Madhya Pradesh being the Indian state with the most number of tigers—nearly 800. This makes tiger reserves in the state, like Kanha and Bandhavgarh, some of the best places in the world to spot this big cat.

It’s late afternoon by the time we reach the busy Friday market at Sarekha village, about 25 kilometers from our starting point. Locals mill about, while vendors seated on a large piece of tarpaulin spread on the ground sell an assortment of familiar vegetables; onions, tomatoes, potatoes, eggplants, cauliflower, okra, bottle gourd.

It’s halfway into the safari that our guide points to a set of tiger pugmarks preserved in the soft sand of the path.

Sophie tells me that fruits are difficult to come by in the winter months (November to February), evident by its limited variety and the small number of fruit sellers. On sale are native fruits like ber (Indian jujube, also known as red or Chinese date) as well as papaya and custard apple, introduced to the country centuries ago. Surrounding shops sell pots and pans, saris, shoes, and other items of daily use, while at the market teashop, the owner is frying a fresh batch of samosas.

After gobbling-down a few and a mug of hot masala chai, we cycle the final leg of day one, towards a state-owned lodge in Mocha village, less than 10 kilometers away. With the lodge right on the banks of the Banjar River, the view from our rooms of the river and surrounding vegetation is spectacular. Having cycled more than 30 kilometers under the afternoon sun, we sleep like babies that night, covered by quirky tiger pawprint-printed bed linen.

The next morning, we set off just before sunrise, with Katie leading the pack. As we ride next to each other, she shares about how she landed in this part of the world in her early 20s from the UK, to volunteer at a wildlife lodge, met Jehan, and ended up staying, and creating a whole life with him.

We swap more stories as we cycle on for the next 20-25 kilometers, with the aim of reaching Sarhi village in time for the 2pm safari. The Sarhi gate into Kanha National Park is the least frequented of the three gates of this tiger reserve; Mukki is the most popular for those hoping to catch a glimpse of the park’s tigers.

Despite the rush to reach Sarhi, three women dressed in candy-floss-pink saris walking by the side of the road catch our attention. Curious about their matching attire, we stop to chat with them about it.

“We are healthcare workers and the pink sari is our dress code,” one of the ladies told us. A little further on, a group of school girls stop to greet us. It feels natural; the friendliness and warmth reminds me why I have a particular affection for rural India.

We reach Sarhi with just enough time for a quick lunch at the Madhya Pradesh state tourism lodge, also our stop for the night. A sprawling lunch buffet in the dining hall includes freshly-made naans, fragrant jeera (cumin) rice, the staple yellow dal, tangy pickles and roasted papads, with hot gulab jamuns (small deep-fried balls of milk solids, dunked in a sugar syrup) for dessert. With little time on hand, we gobble down our food and hop into the park’s open jeep for our safari.

Just a few minutes of driving along the winding tracks of the park, we start to notice the wildlife: A herd of chital (spotted deer), gray langurs, many species of birds like the critically endangered white-rumped vulture, the common (yet still glamorous) male Indian peafowl, the colorful Indian roller, the wonderfully camouflaged Indian scops-owl, the Eurasian hoopoe with its tall crest, among other delightful birds. A large muscular gaur (Indian bison) raises its head at the sound of our jeep, but once it realizes we’re not a threat, it returns to nibbling plants.

It’s halfway into the safari that our guide points to a set of tiger pugmarks preserved in the soft sand of the path. As exciting as that is, there are sadly no other signs of the elusive cat. However, we remain optimistic—a key skill if you’re trying to spot a creature as challenging as the tiger.

Day three presents the most challenging day of cycling. Exhaustion—and chafing—has set in, but expansive views and rural scenes keep us distracted and moving. The direct sun and the rocky terrain doesn’t make things easy though. Some stretches of stony path are too bumpy to ride along so we’re forced to dismount and walk with our bicycles on several occasions.

Eventually, we join a busy tarmac road that cuts right through the central area of Kanha National Park. Dodging cars and speeding motorbikes, we pedal along this final stretch which would lead us back to Shergarh.

Then, out of the blue, Shergarh staffer Justin Jacob who is driving the safety jeep accompanying us, stops by the side of the road and sniffs the air. He seems to recognize a peculiar smell emanating from a clump of trees not far from the road.

Pointing excitedly in the direction of the smell, he yells, “That’s the stench of a recent tiger kill!” And although the tiger is nowhere to be seen or heard, we know it may well be seeing and hearing us—and that’s enough to give even the most road-tested cyclist goosebumps.

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