Tiger, Tiger burning…and this is anything but bright and right

Chamarajanagar: In the hushed stillness of the dense forests of Male Mahadeshwara (MM) Hills, where the echo of a tigress’ roar once embodied nature’s fierce pride, a haunting silence has now taken its place.

On June 26, the heart of Karnataka’s wilderness was pierced by the tragic discovery of five lifeless bodies — a tigress and her four young cubs — their once-majestic existence snuffed out, suspected victims of a cruel poisoning.

The 11-year-old tigress, first recorded by camera traps in 2014 as a playful, wide-eyed cub herself, died with her progeny beside her — a sight that has shaken conservationists, wildlife lovers, and citizens alike.

A cow carcass, laced with poison, lay nearby — a silent killer, likely intended as retaliation by unknown miscreants.

It is suspected that the tigress, having killed and partially eaten the cow, returned to it with her cubs the following day, unaware of the trap that would end their lives.

This is the worst single-day tiger death toll in Karnataka’s history — and the grief is compounded by outrage.

A mother’s final hunt

What was meant to be a meal for survival turned into a final act of maternal care. She brought her cubs — likely no older than 8 to 10 months — to feed on the cow she had killed, unknowingly leading them to their end.

Her last instinct was to provide. The forest, once her sanctuary, betrayed her.

Wildlife experts believe the poisoning occurred on June 25 and came to light the next day in the Hoogyam range of the MM Hills Wildlife Sanctuary, an ecologically sensitive region sprawling over 906 square kilometers.

The sanctuary, rich in prey and shelter, had long been awaiting official tiger reserve status — a proposal languishing in bureaucratic files for over 15 years.

Shadows of negligence

This tragedy has cast a harsh spotlight on lapses in forest administration. Environmental activists point to a critical gap in forest vigilance — with forest watchers allegedly unpaid for over three months, the protective eyes that usually monitor movements through these vulnerable stretches had been dimmed.

“Poisoning is a human act, but the forest department’s silence is a systemic failure,” said a prominent conservationist, tears betraying frustration.

Villagers in the area have often clashed with wildlife over crop and cattle losses. Human-wildlife conflict is not new. But such retaliatory poisoning is an escalation — a red line crossed. And while local herders deny owning the cow carcass, authorities are now painstakingly tracing its origin to find answers.

The aftermath: Rage, reforms, and a race against time

Karnataka Forest Minister Eshwar Khandre called the deaths ‘unnatural’ and ‘unacceptable’. He has announced a high-level probe, with a report expected in 14 days.

An expert panel — including senior forest officers, veterinarians from Mysuru Zoo, and conservationist Sanjay Gubbi — has been tasked with uncovering the truth.

Autopsies and toxicological tests are underway. In parallel, the government has rolled out emergency surveillance measures: infrared camera traps, GPS-based patrols, informer networks with cash rewards, and sweeping anti-poaching drives.

Still, one question looms: Will it bring the tigers back?

A vanished legacy

The tigress was more than a number in the state’s tiger census. She was a matriarch, a survivor, a silent sentinel of MM Hills. Her cubs were the future — wild hearts just beginning to understand the forest’s rhythm. Their deaths are not just a conservation loss — they are a moral one.

This forest, blessed with one of the highest tiger populations in India (563), now mourns the loss of five. And with it, comes the realization that protection on paper isn’t protection in practice.

“Tiger Reserve” – Still just a dream

The tragedy has revived calls to finally declare MM Hills as a tiger reserve — a status that could bring better resources, stricter enforcement, and coordinated conservation programmes. But with political will wavering and red tape ever-thick, the sanctuary remains vulnerable.

Conservationists have long argued that the area’s designation as a wildlife sanctuary isn’t enough. “It lacks the deterrence, funding, and focus a tiger reserve brings,” said one forest official, requesting anonymity.

A cry from the forest

As the monsoon clouds gather over MM Hills, they carry not just rain, but sorrow. Somewhere in the canopy, birds call — but the cubs’ playful growls will no longer be heard.

Their deaths must not become just another statistic. They must become a rallying cry — for accountability, for reform, and most importantly, for coexistence. Because, if the jungle loses its tigers, it loses its soul.

And we lose a part of ours too.