Before we left Bangalore Harsh checked the weather forecast for the area which we were to visit and found the signs not too promising. Exactly on the days of our visit we had a good healthy downpour of rains predicted, which made us quite anxious. And our anxious selves were welcomed in Ramnagar not only by the quiet and kind Salim but also by an overcast sky, much to our dismay.We observed the narrow yet clean streets of Ramnagar from the Gypsy and remarked how typically like a hill station the town was. In a matter of few minutes we had reached the gates of Bijrani. After a few initial formalities, a guide joined us and we set off to explore the forest that was a living memory of the legendary Jim Corbett.
Jim Corbett (1875 - 1955) was born, in Naini Tal in the Kumaon region of the Himalayas, of Irish parents who had moved to India in 1862. He is considered a saint by the locals of Kumaon who know him for his deep love for the wildlife of the area, particularly the big cats and his efforts in educating the villagers and tribals of the region about wildlife. A hunting enthusiast in his younger days, Corbett evolved to become one of the first conservationists India has seen. He is well-known for his books on man-eating tigers and leopards and his efforts at putting an end single-handedly to these threats that claimed hundreds of human lives and terrorised the area for years on end. However, few people know that Jim Corbett was responsible in convincing the British government to declare the forests of Kumaon as a protected reserve to ensure the well-being of the wildlife in the area. Following his request, the government set up the first national park and called it Hailey National Park, after Lord Malcolm Hailey, the then Governor of the province. The park was renamed after Jim Corbett in fond memory of the pioneer of wildlife conservation, in 1956.
The sky showed all signs of bursting open on us at any moment. I prayed quietly all the time for the rain-gods to be kind to us at least during safaris. Although experiencing rain in a forest is thrilling, we were worried about our equipment and photography and feared that we may not get to see any animals if it rained. I looked all around trying to imbue my mind with the colours of the forest. The place looked heavenly - to say the least. While southern India had traversed half-way through summer, the extreme north of India - the Himalayan foothills - was just warming up for it. The river beds looked dry. Vast stretches of white stones,pebbles and rocks served as a proof for the roaring, energetic monstrous river that flowed with full zest during monsoons.
What we now saw were thin crawling strips of glimmering water flowing with a silent rhythm, that sounded like the whispers of a mother cradling her child to sleep.
The trees showed mixed reactions to the onset of summer - there were some huge giants standing tall and as dry as the river beds, stretching out their open branches to the sky as though to say,"well, summer will be here any time now and I am not the one to be taken by surprise, you know.I'm ready".Experience,I suppose.

Then there were some lean and tall trees which looked like they wanted to follow the steps of these elderly giants, but weren't too sure about letting go of their beautiful leaves. So they seemed to have struck a middle ground. They had turned their leaves into all shades of brown - yellowish-brown, greenish-brown,reddish-brown....the next best thing to turning bone-dry.I had a feeling that they were demonstrating to me, the all-too common fear of "letting go".

Then there were some young, small shrub-like trees covered with lush, bright green leaves all over, that leaned towards the flowing water like fair Narcissus who admired his own reflections in the water and almost forgot himself. I almost felt a sense of concern towards these young dreamers - I wanted to walk up to them, wake them out of their reverie and tell them,"Listen, summer's coming, you know. I think you ought to be preparing yourselves." But the trees already seemed to sense what I felt and giggled and replied to me,"We had a fantastic festive time with Spring.We are still revelling in the memories. We aren't too fussed about Scary Summer, he can come and go as he likes." Well, perhaps they were right. Summer was welcome here. More than in any other parts of India I had seen.







































































