A friendship in the forest

It was Vatsala who saved Maniram’s life.

“We had gone to Pandav Falls,” Maniram begins, “and Vatsala had wandered off to graze. I was on my way to fetch her when a tiger appeared.”

When Maniram cried out for help, “she came running and lifted her front leg so that I could climb onto her back. Once I was seated, she stomped her feet and tore down trees. Tiger bhaag gaya [the tiger ran away],” says the relieved mahavat (mahout).

The grand matriarch of Panna Tiger Reserve, Vatsala is said to be over 100 years old – making her the oldest living elephant in the world. “Some say she is 110, some say she is 115. I think it’s true,” says Maniram, a Gond Adivasi who has been caring for Vatsala since 1996.

Vatsala is an Asiatic elephant (Elephas maximus) and has been a resident of Kerala and Madhya Pradesh. Maniram says she is very gentle but when she was younger, the pachyderm could be feisty. Even now, despite her failing sight and hearing, she alerts the herd at the first sign of danger.

Maniram says her sense of smell is still strong and she can sense the threatening presence of another animal. When that happens, she calls out to the herd who immediately band together – babies in the middle of the huddle. “If the animal tries to attack, they chase it away with stones and sticks and branches they pick up with their trunks,” Maniram and adds, “pehle bohut tez thi [she used to be very sharp].”

Like his charge, Maniram is not scared of other wild animals either, including the tiger, of which there are around 57 to 60 in Panna Tiger Reserve according to this report from 2022. “Haathi ke saath rehte the, toh tiger ka darr nahi rehta tha [I would be with the elephant, so I was not scared of tigers],” he says.

PARI is speaking to him near the elephant enclosure at Hinauta Gate of the Panna Tiger Reserve. Around 10 elephants, one of them a calf, are waiting for their first meal of the day. Maniram leads us to where Vatsala is standing under a tree. The pachyderm’s feet are temporarily chained to logs dug into the ground. Close to her, Krishnakali is standing with her calf, all of two months old.

Vatsala has no babies of her own. “But she has always looked after the calves of other elephants. Doosri ki bachchiyaan bohut chahti hai [She really loves the elephant calves],” Maniram says with a sad smile, “she plays with the babies.”

Vatsala and Maniram are both migrants to Panna, a district in the northeastern region of Madhya Pradesh where over 50 per cent of the area is covered by forests. Vatsala was born in Kerala and brought to Hoshangabad (renamed Narmadapuram) in Madhya Pradesh in 1993. Maniram was born there and that is where they first met.

“I have always loved elephants,” says Maniram, now in his fifties. No one in his family had ever looked after animals. His father farmed on their five-acre and, as does Maniram’s son. “We grow gehun [wheat], chana [chickpea], and tili [sesame],” he says.

In Hoshangabad, Maniram was assisting a mahavat when Vatsala arrived. “She was put to work loading trucks with wood,” he recalls. After a couple of years, Vatsala left for Panna. “Then, a few years later, the mahavat at Panna took a transfer and left his post, so they called me,” says Maniram. Since then, he has stayed in his two-room accommodation at the Panna Tiger Reserve and looked after the now ageing pachyderm.

Unlike his friend though, Maniram is not a permanent employee of the forest department.  “Jab shasan retire kara denge, tab chale jayenge [When the government relieves me, I shall go],” he says. His contract of Rs. 21,000 a month is renewed annually and he is unsure about how long he will be able to work.

“My day begins at 5 a.m.,” Maniram says. “I cook the dalia [broken wheat], feed Vatsala and send her off to the forest.” While she grazes there with the other elephants estimated to be 20 more according to Maniram, he cleans her pen and prepares her dinner – another 10 kilos of dalia. He then makes his own lunch – roti or chawal. The elephants return at 4 p.m. and then it is time to bathe Vatsala and feed her dinner before he can call it a day.

“She used to love eating rice. When she was in Kerala, that’s what she ate,” Maniram says. But that changed when 15 years ago a male elephant named Ram Bahadur, attacked the almost 90 to 100-year-old Vatsala. She sustained injuries to her back and stomach. A doctor was called in. “Between doctor saab and me, we took care of her,” Maniram says. But the attack left her feeling very weak and she needed a change in the diet to help regain some of the strength she had lost.

She subsequently retired from work – her job description changed from loading wood onto trucks, to helping out with spotting and tracking tigers, and patrolling the forest.

When the friends are apart, they miss each other. Maniram says, “I miss her when I am at home. I think about what she is doing, whether she has eaten properly…” The elephant reciprocates the feeling – when her mahout is on leave for more than a week, she doesn’t eat her fill.

“Usko pata chalti hai ki ab mahavat saab aa gaye [She understands that the mahout has returned],” Maniram says. Even if he is standing at the gate, some four to five hundred metres away, she will trumpet loudly to acknowledge his arrival.

Over the years, their bond has only grown stronger. “Meri daadi jaisi lagti hai [She is like my grandma],” Maniram says, his face breaking into a toothy grin.

The reporter would like to thank Devashree Somani for her help with this story.