Anyone who has ever been on a tiger safari will know what I mean.
Whether you are a wildlife enthusiast or a first-time visitor, the moment you enter the forest, everything narrows down to stripes. The landscape, the birds, the smaller dramas unfolding around you begin to fade into the background. For those few hours, it can feel as though nothing else truly matters.
Anticipation is one of our strongest instincts. The gates open with a single thought — Will we see the tiger? They close with one question — Did you see it?
Seeing a tiger is always thrilling, almost sacred. But those brief minutes often come after a long, patient, sometimes exhausting wait.
Social media narratives and wildlife documentaries have shaped our sense of what a “good” sighting looks like. The empty trails and uneventful drives rarely make the final edit. A chase, a hunt, cubs at play - those rare and extraordinary moments do.
Then slowly, we begin to measure success by intensity. A tiger sitting quietly, yawning, or simply walking past feel insufficient, as if something more was supposed to happen.
Perhaps that expectation is ours alone.
Over time, I have begun to realise that may be a successful safari is being able to share a fragment of its ordinary day. The privilege lies not only in witnessing spectacle, but just being present.
So perhaps the question is not, “Did we see the tiger?”
But, “Did we truly see the forest?”
I hope I always find my way back home and the forest continues to grace me with its magic, in ways both vast and small.