Lion, lion, burning bright

How the lion lost his throne
By Mahesh Rangarajan*


It was a coup with a difference. No life was lost. No blood was shed. No one lost power. There was, to use a common phrase of this century, no regime change. But a king lost a crown. A new claimant became an icon.

It was a momentous time in human affairs. Conservation was among her priorities as Indira Gandhi tightened her grip on the polity. But it was the tiger that took pride of place, and not just in conservation efforts. In 1972, the tiger replaced the lion as India’s national animal.

Project Tiger’s first director, Kailash Sankhala, celebrated the moment later as one where the tiger ousted the lion that “had ruled meaninglessly for thousands of years”.

Both animals had long held claim to the human imagination. But from at least three centuries before the Common Era it was the lion that dominated verse and prose. The Buddha was known as “Shakta Simha”, or the lion among the shaktas (worshippers of God). The sermon at Sarnath was compared to the roar of the lion.

Royalty and divinity embraced the lion imagery even more than sainthood. The Tirupavai of Andal compared the gait of Lord Vishnu to the walk of a lion. The lion throne or simahasana, still common in Hindustani, has a long and distinguished lineage.

Sankhala, founding director of Project Tiger, saw cause for enthroning the tiger. It would be the rallying point to save an endangered natural heritage. Dr Karan Singh, chair of the steering committee of Project Tiger, hoped that the tiger would be a symbol of unity in diversity.

As it turned out the lion did get protection, not only directly but also for its forest home and prey. More chital and sambhar meant less cattle kills. As conflict with humans dwindled, lions bred.

Today, the tiger gets its share of press. By contrast the spell of poaching lions two years ago in Gujarat has not been repeated. The lions may be secure but biologists argue it needs a second home. No amount of persuasion seems enough to get Gujarat to part with its prized possession: the lions of the Gir Forest.

The lions have taken things into their own paws and have a range well beyond the frontiers of the protected zones, whether national park, sanctuary or reserved forest. The big cats are peripatetic and do not recognise human-made boundaries.

But their future is trapped, amongst those who cannot or will not think beyond the bounds. The fact of being in Gujarat is said to secure their future. In a narrow and immediate sense this is indeed true. Over four decades of science-based surveys and studies indicate a healthy, breeding population, cubs and all. But all it will take to wipe them out is a round of feline distemper or a virus. As it turns out, the lions of Gir have a narrow variation in their genes. More of them are likely to be vulnerable to a calamity in the form of disease than appears so at first sight.

How and why they became symbols of regional pride has to do with Gujarat’s own history. Narendra Modi is now the champion of their cause, but it were the Muslim nawabs of Junagarh who saved the animals from near certain extinction. They doled out hunting invitations in the most miserly way possible and shot only a few. In return, the lions flourished.

There was a bill to be settled, not with the hunters but with the cattle keepers. A buffalo owner is unlikely to take kindly to his prized milch animals ending up as dinner for the king of beasts. So as early as 1900, the nawabs set up systems to pay compensations for loss of stock.

They knew just how rare the lions were. In his magisterial and richly illustrated The Lions of Asia, Divyabhanusinh shows how the nawabs resisted pressures form even the rulers of Gwalior to transfer a few lions to their hunting reserves. Rarity was what made the big cats so valuable. Rarity and the unique status of being the last lions in all of Asia.

What got the species into trouble is probably what made them so significant in legend, icon and symbol down the ages. The mane of the male made it a magnificent trophy. Hunters with bow and arrows, spears and swords did not make the inroads that modern weapons did, one British officer shooting dead as many as 55 within a day’s ride in Delhi in 1857-58. But more than the gun, it was the axe and plough that cleared the dry grasslands, its ideal home. Cattle were always easy prey. But this earned the lions the deep animosity of cattle owners.

Gir was unique. Its maldharis, or buffalo keepers, learnt to live with the lions, securing herds in thorn fences at night. The hills were malarial, a deterrent to settlers. So the big cat survived in this corner of India, helped by the nawabs’ beneficence and the pastoralists’ tolerance.

But as is often the case, there is more to this than meets the eye. For a species that once ranged right across north and central India and westward to Palestine, this is tiny toe, or should we say claw, hold of a home. The lions have helped protect the Gir, the largest intact natural forest in Gujarat.

The commendable job of the state has kept alive in flesh an animal that resonates deeply in culture and legend. Yet, care is not enough. The Kuno reserve in Madhya Pradesh, readied over a decade ago, still awaits lions. These would be only an insurance should disaster strike Gir.

Politics deprived the lion of a status at a national level. Regional nationalism needs to see reason. A second home would do more than secure the lion’s future. So much for the throne long gone. Will Gujarat let India give the lion a future?

* Mahesh Rangarajan is an environmental historian. He recently co-edited the book Environmental History: As If Nature Existed

Reproduced in its entirety from here, a related (but older) story is here

Got the above as a feed from group (on Yahoo Groups) called Wildlife India where it was shared by Atul Singh Nishchal of the Asiatic Lion Group.