Latest news with #ValmikThapar
India Today
13 hours ago
- Politics
- India Today
How Valmik Thapar earned his tiger stripes
In the crowded conservation space, how did the late Valmik Thapar, one of India's foremost tiger experts, author, filmmaker and commentator, stand out?Thapar, 73, lost his battle with cancer in the early hours of May 31, plunging the global wildlife and conservation community into gloom. He is survived by wife Sanjana, the daughter of late actor Shashi Kapoor, and son stood out most importantly because of his frankness of opinion, the not-so-common ability to call a spade a spade. He served on numerous environmental committees, including the National Board for Wildlife, India's top decision-maker on wildlife. Yet, he never minced words even if that meant antagonising those who had appointed him to such bodies.A case in point is Thapar serving as a member of the task force on tigers set up in the aftermath of the conservation debacle at Rajasthan's Sariska Reserve, where the tiger was found in the early 2000s to have been pushed to near wipeout. While on the committee, Thapar had opposed the theory of coexistence of tigers and humans, which used to be a view much in sync with the government of the day in Delhi. Later, in an indication that he was open to correction, Thapar supported the idea of working with forest-dwelling communities, and even did so in the villages around the Ranthambore National Park in Rajasthan through his not-for-profit, the Ranthambore Those who have known the Thapar family suggest Valmik's ability to speak the truth to the powers that be may have come from parents Romesh Thapar and Raj Thapar. Romesh's May 1950 victory in the Supreme Court in the case 'Romesh Thapar v State of Madras' remains one of the landmark rulings in India on the freedom of speech and curbing of arbitrary use of state as editor of CrossRoads magazine, had moved court after the then Madras government banned the sale of the publication in the state over an article on police violence in a Thapars also conceptualised the Seminar magazine. Romesh, educated in England, was much impressed with Fabian socialism and imbibed Marxist ideals. Highly educated and Marxist in political thought, the couple was perhaps the kinds dispensations are often not comfortable with.'Valmik Thapar had the ability to speak the truth, without malice, to the powers that be. He was not dogmatic as many imagine... He was a strategist. He had strong opinions, based on his field experience imbibed from Fateh Singh Rathore, the first field director of the Ranthambore Tiger Reserve. He knew Ranthambhore and its tiger intimately and was wedded to that forest,' says Bittu Sahgal, editor of Sanctuary Asia magazine and a long-time friend and associate of Sahgal and Thapar had spent endless nights under the boughs of the banyan tree at Ranthambore Fort's Jogi Mahal, inside the reserve. 'Virtually all his life, Valmik carried the voice of the tiger across the globe, and that positively helped protect Panthera tigris across India,' reminiscences critics within the conservation fraternity had an issue with his focus on the tiger, so much so that he was labelled by some as a tiger fanatic to the detriment of other species. Most recently, Thapar had emerged as a prominent voice opposing the government's decision to reintroduce the cheetah in programme launched with much fanfare at the Kuno National Park in Madhya Pradesh in 2022 has had a rough ride. Thapar, speaking to INDIA TODAY back then, had mentioned that the main issue was the lack of open grasslands, like the ones seen in Africa where cheetahs can roam cheetahs at Kuno now routinely enter human habitations that dot the landscape, vindicating Thapar's stance, at least friends maintain that being an extremely private person, Thapar did not speak of his battle with cancer with too many people. His son Hamir has spent considerable time in Ranthambore. Will he follow in the illustrious footsteps of his father?advertisementSubscribe to India Today Magazine
Indian Express
15 hours ago
- General
- Indian Express
When Valmik Thapar threw a punch for tigers
Valmik Thapar — Valu, as many of us knew him — was the fiercest voice for the tiger. His gruff, deep voice often resembled a tiger's growl. As an emerging wildlife conservation filmmaker in the 1990s, I knew about him and his tigers of Ranthambore. Even before I began, his first book, With Tigers in the Wild, co-authored with his guru Fateh Singh Rathore and his brother-in-law Tejbir Singh, adorned my bookshelf. After Indira Gandhi, who established Project Tiger to protect the rapidly vanishing animal in 1973, and its first director, Kailash Sankhala, I would place Valmik Thapar as the person who most contributed to the cause of tigers. I attended a talk he gave about his journey and the conservation of the Indian tiger at the Royal Geographic Society in London. His booming voice and the rare behavioural images of tigers, primarily captured by him, kept the audience on the edge of their seats. The evening ended with a standing ovation. The cherry on top was the six-part BBC series The Land of the Tiger filmed and broadcast in 1996-97. Valu was the presenter, traversing the length and breadth of India, unspooling the story of Indian wildlife and its rich biodiversity. As a young filmmaker, I was offered a small role in making the series. Over the years, I bumped into Valu at conservation meetings and would visit his house to discuss collaborative film projects. This invariably led to debates on contentious issues surrounding Indian conservation policy and practice. In my early years of filmmaking during the '80s and '90s, he and I belonged to two distinct conservation spheres. The term 'coexistence' was highly contested, representing a chasm between these two worlds. The one I occupied believed in a historical coexistence between forest dwellers and wild animals, asserting that any conservation policy must incorporate people's physical presence and participation. Conversely, the world inhabited by Valmik and other prominent conservationists and scientists maintained that wildlife should reside in 'inviolate' zones, meaning that forest dwellers and wildlife areas must be entirely separated. The 'inviolate' argument had a royal lineage tracing back to the times of the Maharajas and their protected hunting blocks. It was so deeply entrenched in the formative years of Project Tiger that, to establish the first nine tiger reserves, all forest dwellers, primarily indigenous peoples, were forcibly evicted, rendering these reserves 'inviolate'. Later, in 2001, we traced three Gond and Baiga Adivasis, who were among the original inhabitants of Kanha National Park and had been removed, to film their experiences and conservation vision in There is a Fire in Your Forest. Despite having a great deal of respect and love for one another, these two worlds remained at loggerheads. As a young, wide-eyed learner, it was sometimes amusing to witness these meetings. Both sides were passionate and dedicated to conservation, presenting thoroughly researched and scientific arguments. However, the truth lay somewhere in between. Valmik's inviolate zones for tigers should coexist with multiple-use forest ranges where forest dwellers could sustain their livelihoods. The power and influence of the 'inviolate zone' lobby controlled the narrative for many decades, and the middle ground policy finally began to take form in the early 2000s. The passing of the Forest Rights Act in 2006 marked a milestone moment, creating distinct divisions in the use of natural resources. The tigers and their forest would represent the inviolate range in the tiger reserves and national parks, while the designated community reserves would support the indigenous communities and forest dwellers dependent on forest resources. The democratisation of conservation policies was finally beginning to take shape. Amidst these tectonic shifts in the Indian conservation world, one morning in 2005, The Indian Express reported that all 22 tigers in the Sariska tiger reserve were poached right under the eyes of state protection, signalling the complete collapse of the protection system. Termites had hollowed out the system, and the crumbling of several other tiger reserves subsequently came to light. I jumped to investigate the collapse and made Tigers: The Death Chronicles. I interviewed Valmik for the film. He appeared on camera, disturbed by the developments in Sariska and livid with the likes of me, who proposed participation and coexistence. He was convinced it would never work. He angrily threw a punch and said that all forest areas should be opened and handed over to indigenous people and forest dwellers, and that we should say goodbye to wildlife. Although I disagreed with his harsh counterargument, I couldn't help but be struck by his passion and emotions for the tiger. His reaction was personal, radiating from a deep-seated hurt and love nestled somewhere deep down in his heart. Valmik embodied the deadlock and the eventual transition. He established a non-governmental organisation in his learning nursery, Ranthambore, to collaborate with the local communities. Ultimately, he straddled both worlds to promote holistic conservation in the Indian forests. Valu was an outspoken man who wore his heart on his sleeve, calling a spade a spade. You didn't have to agree with him to admire him for his strong convictions; he thumped the table and spat them out. The lashing out in my film is also a part of this. In today's India, it is unthinkable that a man would be allowed to criticise and work alongside those whom he criticised. That was the respect he commanded. Serious science and scientists like Ullas Karanth and dedicated forest officers and guards have shaped tiger conservation. Global and Indian conservation organisations have helped build the conservation edifice brick by brick. But Valu wasn't part of any organisation, the government, or any scientific institution. He was a lone ranger in love with this animal and became one of its most important supporters. The tigers, especially those of Ranthambore, have lost a friend and will miss him! Bose is a filmmaker, writer and teacher
The Hindu
a day ago
- Politics
- The Hindu
Letters to The Editor — June 2, 2025
CDS statement, fog clears The Chief of Defence Staff (CDS) General Anil Chauhan's statement, that an unspecified number of India's fighter jets were downed during the hostilities with Pakistan in May, is sure to give ammunition to the Opposition parties and their earlier claims (Page 1, June 1). The Government could have avoided this embarrassing situation had it functioned transparently. When losses are a part of any combat scenario, one wonders why the government was so reluctant to brief the nation on the subject. Kshirasagara Balaji Rao, Hyderabad The CDS has put an end to the attempts at obfuscation by the Government about losses during Operation Sindoor. When the demand was raised by some Opposition parties and the Leader of the Opposition in the Lok Sabha, the powers that be tried to confuse the country and, worse, labelled the Opposition as anti-national. The Centre has no fig leaf now to block the demand by the Opposition to hold a special session of Parliament. Ayyasseri Raveendranath, Aranmula, Kerala The CDS's silence on the extent of India's losses raises more questions than answers. It is clear that India lost something significant on the first day of its confrontation with Pakistan. The people have the right to know the extent of these 'losses in the air'. S. Ramakrishnasayee, Chennai Valmik Thapar The passing of naturalist Valmik Thapar is a loss for wildlife management too. His bond with Ranthambore and his deep study and works are invaluable contributions to the conservation of India's pride, the tiger. Monita Sutherson, Nagercoil, Tamil Nadu
Time of India
2 days ago
- General
- Time of India
Valmik Thapar walked with tigers, now he rests
JAIPUR: Valmik Thapar was 24 - fresh out of St Stephen's with a gold medal in sociology and an old boy from The Doon School. He stood at a crossroads. Life had questions, but no answers. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now Then the jungle found him. In Ranthambhore, 1976, he met Fateh Singh Rathore - the national park's legendary field director. "Once you've looked into the eyes of a wild tiger," Thapar would later write, "you're never the same." That encounter didn't just chart a career spanning 50 years, it ignited a cause that would redefine tiger conservation in India. On Saturday morning, a pall of silence fell across Ranthambhore's forests. Thapar, 73, died at his Delhi home after a prolonged battle with cancer. More than just a conservationist, Thapar was a man who walked with tigers - and also an author, documentarian, policy adviser and activist. Valmik Thapar was tiger's most tireless advocate But to many, Valmik Thapar was the tiger's most tireless advocate. His relationship with Rathore, bloomed into a decades-long partnership that not only saved Ranthambhore's tigers from vanishing but also seeded a national movement for big cat protection. "I met Valmik as a 10-year-old in 1976," said Goverdhan Singh Rathore, son of Fateh Singh. "He was going through a difficult time and came to Ranthambhore seeking peace." "That meeting with my father led to a friendship that lasted a lifetime. Both led a long-running crusade to save Ranthambhore and its tigers," he added. In 1987, Thapar founded Ranthambhore Foundation - one of the first efforts in India to integrate conservation with community uplift. Tired of too many ads? go ad free now Villages ringing the park became part of the mission. Healthcare, education, women's employment and traditional crafts were woven into a model that linked forest protection to human well-being. NGOs like Dastkar joined the effort, showing conservation didn't need to be a choice between people and animals. Dharmendra Khandal, a close associate and conservation biologist, recalled time in the field with reverence. "With Valmik sir, it was not just a safari; it was a masterclass in the wild. His energy at 70 was unmatched. Even between safaris, he wouldn't rest - he would invite me home for long, intense conversations about Ranthambhore's future." Thapar authored nearly 50 books, narrated documentaries including Land of the Tiger for BBC, and served on over 150 committees, including National Board for Wildlife. He was unafraid to call out missteps in govt policy, yet managed to win trust across political and bureaucratic divides. "He was fearless. Today, he has laid down his armour and gone to eternal rest," said Balendu Singh, former honorary warden of Ranthambhore. To those who worked with him, Thapar was a visionary mentor - sharp, driven, and unyielding. "His booming voice will echo through the valleys of Ranthambhore forever," said Goverdhan Singh. Even in his final days, Thapar was deep into writing a two-volume chronicle marking 50 years of Ranthambhore. Wildlife filmmaker Subbiah Nallamuthu, who chronicled India's tigers for global audiences, perhaps captured Thapar's impact best. "He was the voice through which India's tigers first spoke to the world. Long before streaming platforms and social media, he gave the tiger a language that was poetic, political and proudly Indian. The tiger may have lost a voice, but for those who read his words, watched his films, and walked the trails he once did, that voice still echoes. " Thapar leaves behind his wife Sanjana Kapoor, daughter of actor Shashi Kapoor, and a life spent tracking pawprints through history.
Indian Express
2 days ago
- General
- Indian Express
The one-man army who secured the tiger — with love and awe: Valmik Thapar (1952-2025)
Conservationist and tiger chronicler Valmik Thapar passed away early this morning after a brave and tough fight with cancer at his Kautilya Marg residence in New Delhi, his family said. He was diagnosed with cancer in his digestive tract. Considered one of the world's foremost authorities on tigers, Valmik Thapar inspired generations to rally for the cause of wildlife conservation. A veritable one-man army, he authored over two dozen books mostly on big cats, presented several wildlife documentaries, including the seminal BBC series Land of the Tiger (1997), and remained the loudest – and most articulate – voice for conservation in India since the 1990s. With no formal training in wildlife biology or conservation, Thapar developed a deep understanding of tiger behaviour, as he put it, by watching wild tigers in Ranthambhore over five decades. In 1976, it was a chance encounter with Fateh Singh Rathore, then director of Ranthambhore tiger reserve, that had him hooked for life. Both outspoken and often contrarian, Rathore and Thapar formed an indefatigable partnership — until Rathore's demise in 2011 — that influenced and, often, shaped India's conservation efforts and policies over the decades. Thapar served in multiple apex bodies of the government, including the National Board for Wildlife and the Central Empowered Committee of the Supreme Court. He was also a member of the Tiger Task Force set up to prescribe reforms in the aftermath of the disappearance of tigers from Rajasthan's Sariska in 2005. That was also the year I started learning the mercurial ways of India's Tigerman. Thapar was warmly supportive of my work in The Indian Express from the day I first reported the total loss of tigers in Rajasthan's Sariska tiger reserve in January 2005. He offered me encouragement, insights and contacts, as the investigative series took me to parks across the country: Ranthambhore (Rajasthan), Panna, Kanha (Madhya Pradesh), Indrawati (Chhattisgarh), Valmiki (Bihar) and Palamu (Jharkhand) over the next three months. In May 2005, I reported how Ranthambhore was in shambles despite attracting more money than all other tiger reserves combined. Non-profits, including Thapar's NGO Ranthambhore Foundation, had received a sizeable chunk of those funds. The report appeared in the morning then Prime Minister Manmohan Singh visited Ranthambhore. Thapar was livid over what he said would be his last phone call to me. It was a we-told-you-so moment for a couple of young conservationists who had flagged how often Thapar used to grandly bemoan how he failed to save 'his' tigers. 'Valmik is in love with his ego,' his critics would carp. Two months later, it was Thapar himself, back at what he loved doing, who would alert me to what he perceived as a 'pro-people bias' in the Tiger Task Force report which observed that the tiger 'issue is not about the tiger per se… but about rebuilding forest economies.'' Thapar's legendary stubbornness – a key shield for his activism – did not come in the way of changing his mind. Inviolate areas are often impractical, he would eventually concede, and 'conservation is impossible without community support.' Thapar had set up his Ranthambhore Foundation back in 1987 to work towards integrating local communities into conservation efforts, and also partnered with another non-profit, Dastkar, to create livelihoods for displaced villagers. But Thapar's fight, as he wrote in his 2012 book Tiger My Life, Ranthambhore and Beyond, 'was always for inviolate spaces—where the tiger could live free, away from noise, away from humans.' Post-Sariska, though, reform was in the air and prompted him to look beyond the model of exclusionary conservation. Around 2006, Thapar's 'tiger guru' Fateh Singh Rathore was also warming up to 'soft strategies' — such as educating children from traditional hunter communities — pushed by biologist Dharmendra Khandal, who had recently joined Rathore's non-profit TigerWatch. From mostly-stick, the Rathore-Thapar conservation scale started leaning decisively towards mostly-carrot in a matter of years. What did not change was Thapar's inbuilt distrust of the government system, even though he remained an insider most of his life. Perhaps that intimate knowledge led him to observe that 'bureaucracy killed more tigers than bullets ever did.' Yet, even Rajesh Gopal, who took heavy flak as then head of Project Tiger from Thapar during the Sariska years, is quick to assert that his adversary was not self-serving. 'All said and done, Valmik really helped the tiger's cause,' Gopal told The Indian Express. Until his last days, Thapar was involved in conservation work, guiding Khandal on various TigerWatch projects, and curating a defining collection of photos of Ranthambhore. Thapar was born in 1952 in Mumbai to Romesh and Raj Thapar, journalists and co-founders of the political journal Seminar. He is survived by his wife, actor and director Sanjana Kapoor, and son Hamir Thapar. Days before his death, I had called Thapar for a comment about a story I was working on related to the use of live bait to lure tigers. He never mentioned he was admitted to a hospital, but readily agreed to weigh in on the 'stupid thing they are doing, feeding tigers and risking lives.' The promised quote arrived on WhatsApp within minutes. Later, I learnt he was in considerable discomfort and 'fussed all day in an irritable mood.' On his first tiger sighting, Thapar once wrote: 'It was like shedding one layer of skin and putting on another… The transformation was total.' Until his last days, the mere mention of tigers would have the same impact on the man. Not always William Blake's tiger with its 'fearful symmetry' but something softer, more magical.
