Tracking tigers in Betla Photograph: Preeti Verma Lal

A few steps into the park and on my right behind the mahua trees there were hundreds of cheetal standing like a band of school girls in their brown sheath spangled with white rosettes, their large eyes rimmed with kohl, innocence daubed on their wiry frame. There were so many of them, moving together, prancing and some lopping leaves off for the evening meal. As the dry leaves crackled under their nimble feet, my camera went into a multi-burst mode and I remembered poet WB Yeats' lament, "The ceremony of innocence is being drowned everywhere…" Not here Mr Yeats, not with the cheetals in Betla. They looked so innocent!

I have a wild friend who is crazy about tigers. One report about a dead tiger in Sariska or Ranthambore and she sheds copious tears. As if to compensate she has turned her living room into a tiger's den, you would see tiger stripes everywhere - the upholstery of her chaise lounge, the cushion on her Chippendale chair, the coasters, the rugs and it no longer shocks me when she swaggers in her tiger-striped pyjamas. I said she is crazy about tigers. I told her I was going to Betla National Park that on the last count had at least 30 tigers. She jumped, "30 tigers? Can't be?" "Yes, there are 30 tigers," I tried hard shoving that fact down her throat. She curled her eyebrows and went on a spiel about how nobody cared about the tigers, how they are being poached, how their habitat is dwindling…. Before she finished, I buckled my dungarees, laced my shoes and rushed to catch my flight to Ranchi, I was a curious 'cat' too.

In Ranchi, I dialed a few numbers and finally got through to Mr U R Biswas, the Chief Wild Life Warden. Last count 34-38 tigers, if you do away with the margin of error, it can't go below 30 tigers. Remember, there were just 22 tigers in Betla in 1974. The boss spewed all data and the boss couldn't be wrong, I thought. So there is no need to sing a requiem to the tiger, I thumped in glee.

Is it safe to go to Betla? This doubt had been nagging me ever since I had heard stories of lawlessness. When I met the soft-spoken AN Prasad, Field Director of Palamau Tiger Reserve, he smiled gently and spoke sparsely, "Of course, it is safe. Any time, Any day." For a change, this soft-spoken one-liner sounded very convincing, Prasad seemed so sure of his territory. I believed him and one happy dawn hopped into a car, drove 165 kms to Daltonganj, then got into a white spotless Ambassador with Prasad and headed to Betla, where the country's first tiger census was held in 1932.

The 25-km drive was like a tutorial in wildlife, I kept asking questions and Prasad patiently answered all of them - Palamau was one of the first nine tiger reserves constituted in 1974 and today it is ranked sixth in overall performance; it is home to 47 species of mammals, 174 species of birds and is known for its tiger, elephant, bison, sloth bear, spotted deer, pangolin, mouse deer and four-horned antelope population. Spread over 226 kms, Betla National Park, which takes its name from a village, has 119 tiger trackers, several hide-outs and machans, 322 watering holes and mixed vegetation forest. I was all prepped with the facts and when the car entered through the newly-built pink arch leading into the jungle, all that was left was a lesson in roaring and a glimpse of those famous stripes.

"Have you seen a tiger here?" That was the evening's refrain and I threw this question at everyone - the cleft-chinned range officer AN Bhagat, tiger tracker Mohammad Yasin, the local mukhiya, the forester, the cook, the chauffeur, the curious onlooker. They had all seen one and Yasin excitedly told me if not a tiger I could definitely see the tiger's fresh scat. If there's a pile of scat, there has to be a tiger, Yasin logically explained. Sure, I nodded. The old man had a point.

"Tea, coffee or a drive?" Prasad was being a kind host. Drive, I chose. Dusk was an hour away and I wanted to go into the jungles first, the coffee could simmer later. Near the entrance I saw hundreds of spotted deer. "Can I walk beyond the moat and take pictures?" Perhaps I was getting impatient; I did not see the notice that walking in the park is strictly prohibited. So I waited for jeep's hood to be taken off so that I could perch on the back seat. I snaked the camera around my neck, slung the purse across my chest, fitted myself in between three iron rods of the jeep and vroom……. I was ready to go wild.

A few steps into the park and on my right behind the mahua trees there were hundreds of cheetal standing like a band of school girls in their brown sheath spangled with white rosettes, their large eyes rimmed with kohl, innocence daubed on their wiry frame. There were so many of them, moving together, prancing and some lopping leaves off for the evening meal. As the dry leaves crackled under their nimble feet, my camera went into a multi-burst mode and I remembered poet WB Yeats' lament, "The ceremony of innocence is being drowned everywhere…" Not here Mr Yeats, not with the cheetals in Betla. They looked so innocent! I don't know how many kilometers we drove inside as Prasad showed me the watering holes, the hide-outs, the peacocks, the tall teaks, the lush bamboo… I heard the fluty wee-lo-wee of the golden oriole, saw the long-tailed rufous treepie, the coucal with chestnut wings and red eyes and the langurs that sat happily on the dirt road. Of course, Yasin took us to the scat spot that looked fresh and Yasin, who knows all about the large cats, informed that it was a tigress heading towards water.

The sun was going down and we decided to go back to the Forest Rest House for a hot cuppa and then drive again later in the night when the animals tend to be around the grasslands. A hurried coffee, a light jacket, a tight braid and I was back in the jeep with Abul Hasan carrying a spotlight to pierce the darkness of the night. This trip I saw the bison and the elephants; it was too dark and the animals too deep in the jungle to be captured in my 10x zoom, but I saw them. The elephants were slightly closer, I could jump off and photograph them but Bhagat was wary and worried about my safety. The elephants have chased intruders and Bhagat wanted to play safe. I have been chased by elephants earlier; they had nearly hunted us down. I survived that chase, this time I stayed in the jeep but missed a photograph. I saw the cheetals again, this time hundreds pairs of eyes shining like jewels in the velvet night. It looked as if diamonds were moving on their own. What a sight!

I believe I was getting greedy. As if the evening and the night drive weren't enough, I got into the jeep again at 5 in the morning. This time it was more for the sunrise and the breeze. I did spot other animals, but no, there were no tigers. I did not see them. Perhaps it was not the tiger's day out, or maybe I am not that blessed. But as Yasin said, If there's a pile of scat, there has to be a tiger. I was convinced that the tigers are there. I saw their plaster of paris mould pugmarks in the Nature Interpretation Centre and learnt tiger tracking from Yasin. I will go again to Betla for the tigers, perhaps I would be more blessed next time, perhaps all the lessons in tiger tracking would come handy. Perhaps when I am tired of writing, I can become a tiger tracker in Betla!

Published in Discover India magazine, November 2005