It started with rain.

We landed in Delhi, drove to Ramnagar, and stayed a night before kicking off our first safari in the eco-tourism zone of Phato. The rain gods, however, were in full monsoon rehearsal mode. With one soggy sloth bear sighting and some enthusiastic barking deer alarm calls, we ended the safari mildly drenched but deeply hopeful.

Next stop: Dhikala.
The heart of Jim Corbett National Park.

Established in 1936 as Hailey National Park, this was India’s first national park, later renamed in honor of Jim Corbett—the British-Indian hunter-turned-conservationist who championed the protection of the Bengal tiger. Dhikala is the largest and most popular tourism zone here, located in the core area of the park and overlooking the Ramganga Reservoir.

We reached Dhikala around 2:30 PM, just in time to hop into our first safari at 3. The safari timings are sacrosanct—5:30 to 9:30 AM, and 3 to 7 PM. And unlike some reserves, this place doesn’t let tourism dictate wildlife behavior.

The early safaris treated us well—birds, deer, elephants… but no tiger.

To many, that’s a failed checklist. But we were here for more. With travel buddies Sangeetha Kadur and Adarsh Raju, both wildlife buffs, we turned our attention skyward and branchward. Checking 100 species in three days. Twenty-odd lifers for me. From the flamboyant Hooded Pitta to the elusive Tawny Fish Owl, we were flying high even if the tiger was laying low.

Safari 3. Tiger 0.

My first proper sighting was of a full family crossing a water body. Not just a peek of the posterior like in my BR Hills misadventure a few years ago. This was a National Geographic moment… minus David Attenborough’s narration and plus 20 gypsies scrambling and repositioning.

And therein lies the conundrum.

Corbett may have been the first national park, but we’re still figuring out the first rule of wildlife tourism: Don’t stress the wildlife. The pressure on the guides is immense. “Show us a tiger!” screams the market, and in that demand, ethics occasionally take a backseat. It’s not as invasive as what I experienced in Sattal last year, but it’s still a spectacle that can feel just a bit too overwhelming.

Yet nature humbles.
A large elephant sighting that felt spiritual. A trail of pugmarks that led us into silence. The comic joy of our Hindi faux pas during safaris. 

Safari 7, Tiger 7.

Dhikala gave me tigers. But it also gave me something better—perspective.

You come here thinking you’re chasing the wild. But the wild never chases you back. It just exists. Majestic. Indifferent. Timeless.

Watch this short film I made (first attempt) about our trip.