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There is a tree in the central jungles of India referred to as the Flame of the Forest. It’s named as such for its fiery orange petals that set the region ablaze in the early weeks of spring.
I arrive at Bandhavgarh National Park right as these glowing blooms are performing their final act, appearing instead as dimly lit torches flickering across the landscape. My disappointment at just missing the zenith of this color riot is quickly replaced by a strongly sweet aroma that floods my nose while passing through Oberoi Vindhyavilas Wildlife Resort’s imposing entrance. “It’s the Mahua tree’s flower,” Vikas Sawhney, the general manager, says with a grin while presenting a delicate glass filled with homemade lemonade. As I’ll learn over the coming days, nature is always putting on a show in India, no matter the time of year.
This is the second wildlife resort for Oberoi, the luxury hospitality brand with outposts scattered across some of the most covetable and far-flung destinations on the planet. Their doors swung open in March, just a month before my arrival, and already reservations are booking out for the 19 luxury tents and two pool villas that stretch across 21 acres of fountain grass and kachnar trees. The reason for such a swift response? Well, that would be Bandhavgarh’s star resident: the Royal Bengal Tiger.
Reaching this exquisite part of the country entails a visa application, series of flights, and long drives; logistical details that I enlist the masterminds at Abercrombie Kent to oversee. Tapping into their roster of on-the-ground experts, A&K threads together an itinerary that seamlessly transports me from jet bridge to Oberoi’s waterfront property in Mumbai, where I acclimate to the new continent for a couple of nights. A morning of touring local spice markets and architectural landmarks is followed by a sunset cocktail back at the hotel overlooking the Arabian Sea. A leisurely dinner at the property’s Ziya restaurant at the helm of Michelin-starred Chef Vineet Bhatia, then I’m back in my room by 9 p.m. in anticipation for the next day’s early morning departure.
After a quick flight followed by a not-so-quick four-hour drive, when I finally arrive at The Oberoi Vindhyavilas it is hot. As in, can’t walk on the ground without footwear hot. But as luck would have it, this is the best time to be here. As temperatures rise and foliage thins out, the odds of spotting tigers are in your favor. Combine that with an encouraging increase in the region’s tiger population, and I am poised for a successful safari experience.
After guzzling down the last drops of that impossibly fresh lemonade (did I mention it was hot?), a cart appears and whisks me down a winding path to my home for the next few nights. Less of a tent and more of a luxury room topped with a hand-embroidered canopy, it’s an accommodation befitting of the Oberoi reputation. The resort’s name is a nod to the Vindhya mountains that amble through Madhya Pradesh (the central Indian state we are in), and the design is an homage to the landscape held sacred to the local Gond and Baiga tribes.
About that embroidered canopy. Look closely at the gold-flecked pattern and you’ll see it’s the native Barasingha deer and Mahua tree. The soaring entrance I walked through earlier? Gond artisans hand-chiseled the wooden door’s tribal motifs. (I am later told locals will carve images of the cattle they own into the doors of their homes.) Everything, I’ll come to find, is an artful reference to the Bandhavgarh culture.
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Knowing that guests would be traveling from around the world to witness Bandhavgarh’s renowned wildlife, Oberoi made the wise decision to enlist the esteemed Ratna Singh to train their team of in-house naturalists, who beyond taking guests out on game drives, also host nature walks, birdwatching excursions, and nightly talks (all of which turn out to be highlights of my stay).
“The tiger had no natural enemy before men with guns came along,” naturalist Soulin Chakraborty says as I find a seat on the sofa and order a Kingfisher for the pre-dinner talk. For the next 45 minutes, he tells the story of the Royal Bengal Tiger, tracing its steps through India’s history and explaining how after decades of poaching and habitat degradation, the wildlife protection act was passed. “Since the 1970s when former prime minister Indira Ghandi instituted a ban on hunting tigers, the number of reserves in India has jumped from nine to almost 58,” Chakraborty says. To me, these educational sessions are more like a hype talk, packed with fun facts that build anticipation for the following morning’s safari.
To my delight, dinner is served outside that evening. Dining under the stars may sound like inflated marketing speak, but as I make my way to the table, I’m gobsmacked by the—yes—blanket of stars above us. As for the food itself: equally as captivating. The resort’s Executive Chef Sachin Kumar trained with the Royal Kitchen of Nagod, so you can expect local ingredients and heirloom recipes taking center stage. I pair shallow fried lotus stems and jackfruit dumplings simmered in rich tomato gravy with a beverage selected from the Jungle Book-themed cocktail list. (It should be known that Rudyard Kipling’s famed 1894 collection of stories were primarily set in Madhya Pradesh, as well as the region of Seoni.)
The next morning, it’s not my phone—set for 4:45 a.m.—that wakes me, but the hooping echoes of the male macaque. Nature’s alarm clock at its finest. After warm tea and biscuits at the main lobby, I hop in an open-air Gypsy with Nakul, a naturalist in partnership with Abercrombie Kent, and we set off into the quiet morning darkness.
Bandhavgarh is split into three core zones: Tala, Magadhi, and Khitauli (as well as three buffer zones where villagers live). In addition to the park’s approximated 135 tigers, wildlife sightings can also include leopards, sloth bears (no relation to sloths), elephants, and over 250 species of birds. The landscape is described as a moist mixed deciduous forest, but in layman’s terms, it’s a striking combination of dense woodlands, sprawling plains, and a towering plateau in the distance.
The first time I see the tiger (about an hour in) a mix between awe and terror washes over. The simultaneous realization settles in that these impossible creatures actually exist…and that one is a mere 15 feet away from me and my flimsy human exterior. Heart rate rises, breath softens, and eyes glue to this magnificent 500-pound mammal that could rip me to pieces with the simple swipe of its striped paw.
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The tiger descends a hillside, saunters across the road directly in front of our Gypsy, and plops down for a rest. After a few minutes, it changes tack and insouciantly disappears into the elephant grass. Our driver, Jagdish remarks on how lucky we are to see a tiger so early into our journey, and off we go in search of the next.
“It’s very easy to find things that are 2,500 years old in India,” Nakul says with a humorous tone as our Gypsy climbs up the rocky plateau. At the top lies something that is so comically impressive it’s hard for me to believe it’s even real. We disembark and walk toward a 35-foot-long statue of a reclining Vishnu, the Hindu deity known as “the preserver.” This massive sandstone carving dates back to the 10th century and sits beside a natural water spring that peacefully trickles down and around Vishnu. As a westerner unaccustomed to witnessing such profound history, the whole thing feels like an Indiana Jones film set. But for this part of the world, thousands-of-years-old statues buried in the heart of tiger-filled jungles are deeply rooted in reality, not fiction.
My remaining days at Oberoi Vindhyavilas are characterized by this profundity. More epic tiger sightings (including a cattle kill!), more opportunities to immerse in local tribal culture, and more sunrises and sunsets that paint the Bandhavgarh landscape in beautiful burnt shades of red, orange, and yellow.
On my final evening after the game drive, a flute whines and drums thump in the distance. I ask the young woman taking me back to my tent where it’s coming from. “It’s a celebration for the Hindu gods,” she says. “They’re going to sleep, and this celebration is a way of saying ‘goodbye’ to them.” The writer in me can’t help but find the symbolism in this. Looking around, I see the Mahua’s blooms are already falling, dotting the ground like tiny snowflakes. The next guests to arrive might miss out on their sweet fragrance, much like I missed out on the Flame of the Forest. But once the flowers are gone, she tells me, it makes way for the Muaha’s fruit to begin to ripen. Like I said, in India, nature always knows how to put on a show.
