By
Ranjit Lal
21st July 2013
For anyone interested in Indian wildlife, it’s probably always been a
question that has lurked in the dim recesses of the mind: why has the
tiger done well in India and not the lion? Why are there leopards
everywhere, while cheetahs are extinct?
In this very elegantly produced book, the three authors clarify why. Their thesis is simple: Both the animals are exotic aliens from Africa, who have never quite settled into the Indian wild because the “natives” (read tigers) were unfriendly, or the habitat unsuitable. This theory might make many people very hot under the collar — after all the lion sits on top of the Ashoka pillar, so it has to be Indian. And the poor cheetah only went extinct because its habitat was destroyed.
Meticulously, step by step, the authors back up their claim with facts, quoting copiously from a vast amount of past literature. Romila Thapar tackles the part played by the lion in history, culture, and literature and how its “regality” was acknowledged and admired by rulers virtually the world over (who then of course had to go and slaughter the beast in “hunts” that only emphasised their inherent cowardice). In India, they were imported from Africa by maharajas and princes — and the Mughals — to massage their egos — they were “tamed” and allowed to roam around in palace courtyards, to impress and cow down the subjects (this tameness remains with Gir’s lions).
The cheetah was imported for hunting chiefly blackbuck, and was also “domesticated” so that it became completely used to human presence. For both animals, huge areas were set aside as “hunting parks” — where lions could be held at bay and killed, and where cheetahs could sprint after blackbucks. Yusuf Ansari mentions that Akbar was said to have a collection of 9,000 hunting cheetahs — a figure which is unsustainable, as they would require nearly 5 million blackbucks to keep fed and fit!
Another point that the authors make repeatedly, is that neither the lion nor the cheetah were ever found in good numbers outside the hunting parks. Both were often clumsily depicted in art — in contrast to the tiger, where every stripe was in place — showing that few people (and artists) had ever actually seen the animal in the flesh. The lion remained an animal that was more emblem than living wild carnivore.
The few animals found outside the park were escapees, who tried — not very successfully — to breed. Cheetahs, of course, would not breed in captivity, so fresh animals had to be regularly imported. Valmik Thapar’s round-up at the end of the book states the case for both animals succinctly. It has been said that the cheetah went extinct because the vast grasslands it need to hunt in were taken over and used for other purposes. Thapar postulates that the “grasslands” were created by the ruling elite precisely so that imported cheetahs could hunt in them — they were in fact nothing but hunting parks.
Perhaps the most unsettling parts of the book — and there are a lot of them — are the accounts of the “hunts” of the past. Wildlife was slaughtered wholesale by so-called “royalty” and the British in a manner that can only make you want to throw up. Some of these hunts went on even after Independence until the princely purses were withdrawn and new laws made. Certainly, there was no risk (for the royal hunter) involved. Besides, a lion hunt that was unsuccessful and considered an ill-omen, so everyone made damn sure that the king got his lion, even if the animal had to be turned into an opium addict so that it would turn up in the right place for its regular “fix” (and to be shot/speared or both). Charming!
This book is very relevant, especially since there are plans to transfer lions out of Gir and to reintroduce cheetahs into India from Africa. As the authors wryly put it, this is like history repeating itself. If we do accept that — no matter where they came from — the lions in Gir are now “naturalized” – perhaps it is wise to move some elsewhere. As for cheetahs, amongst the more finicky of the cats — they’re going to have a very, very tough time trying to stretch their legs in the India of the 21st century.
source
In this very elegantly produced book, the three authors clarify why. Their thesis is simple: Both the animals are exotic aliens from Africa, who have never quite settled into the Indian wild because the “natives” (read tigers) were unfriendly, or the habitat unsuitable. This theory might make many people very hot under the collar — after all the lion sits on top of the Ashoka pillar, so it has to be Indian. And the poor cheetah only went extinct because its habitat was destroyed.
Meticulously, step by step, the authors back up their claim with facts, quoting copiously from a vast amount of past literature. Romila Thapar tackles the part played by the lion in history, culture, and literature and how its “regality” was acknowledged and admired by rulers virtually the world over (who then of course had to go and slaughter the beast in “hunts” that only emphasised their inherent cowardice). In India, they were imported from Africa by maharajas and princes — and the Mughals — to massage their egos — they were “tamed” and allowed to roam around in palace courtyards, to impress and cow down the subjects (this tameness remains with Gir’s lions).
The cheetah was imported for hunting chiefly blackbuck, and was also “domesticated” so that it became completely used to human presence. For both animals, huge areas were set aside as “hunting parks” — where lions could be held at bay and killed, and where cheetahs could sprint after blackbucks. Yusuf Ansari mentions that Akbar was said to have a collection of 9,000 hunting cheetahs — a figure which is unsustainable, as they would require nearly 5 million blackbucks to keep fed and fit!
Another point that the authors make repeatedly, is that neither the lion nor the cheetah were ever found in good numbers outside the hunting parks. Both were often clumsily depicted in art — in contrast to the tiger, where every stripe was in place — showing that few people (and artists) had ever actually seen the animal in the flesh. The lion remained an animal that was more emblem than living wild carnivore.
The few animals found outside the park were escapees, who tried — not very successfully — to breed. Cheetahs, of course, would not breed in captivity, so fresh animals had to be regularly imported. Valmik Thapar’s round-up at the end of the book states the case for both animals succinctly. It has been said that the cheetah went extinct because the vast grasslands it need to hunt in were taken over and used for other purposes. Thapar postulates that the “grasslands” were created by the ruling elite precisely so that imported cheetahs could hunt in them — they were in fact nothing but hunting parks.
Perhaps the most unsettling parts of the book — and there are a lot of them — are the accounts of the “hunts” of the past. Wildlife was slaughtered wholesale by so-called “royalty” and the British in a manner that can only make you want to throw up. Some of these hunts went on even after Independence until the princely purses were withdrawn and new laws made. Certainly, there was no risk (for the royal hunter) involved. Besides, a lion hunt that was unsuccessful and considered an ill-omen, so everyone made damn sure that the king got his lion, even if the animal had to be turned into an opium addict so that it would turn up in the right place for its regular “fix” (and to be shot/speared or both). Charming!
This book is very relevant, especially since there are plans to transfer lions out of Gir and to reintroduce cheetahs into India from Africa. As the authors wryly put it, this is like history repeating itself. If we do accept that — no matter where they came from — the lions in Gir are now “naturalized” – perhaps it is wise to move some elsewhere. As for cheetahs, amongst the more finicky of the cats — they’re going to have a very, very tough time trying to stretch their legs in the India of the 21st century.
source
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