The Accidental Hiker

Ashok signalled with his hands and we stopped in our tracks. The afternoon sun was pleasantly warm on our backs as we sank down to our knees. Ashok, ten yards ahead of us, motioned for us to be quiet as he retreated. "Gaur!" he whispered when he reached us. The three of us slunk into the fragile camouflage of a thorny bush. Less than a hundred yards away, a herd of Indian Bison were grazing. Their default leader had already sensed us and was sniffing the air, trying to pinpoint our position. We were nervous: if they decided to charge, we didn't stand a chance of outrunning them, we would surely be trampled to death by their collective hooves. At the same time the urge to take a picture urged me to poke my little camera through the gaps in the bush and press the trigger repeatedly, hoping that I would get one decent shot. I got my picture, but it was far from satisfactory; but I had reason to be pleased: after hiking for nearly three decades in the hills of the Sahyadri