A tiger’s biography: From Maya’s perilous beginnings to her rise as a matriarch and a national icon

The tigress P2 and her young siblings were growing up under the protection of their mother, Leela. Occasionally, their father, Hilltop Male, would make an appearance. The cubs would cautiously approach him at first, but once reassured, they would leap onto him playfully. Of course, they felt safest with their mother. When Leela was around, they were at ease. In her absence, they huddled together in hiding, tucked away at the spot she had chosen for them.

As the cubs neared their first year, Leela started taking them along for hunts. Initially, she would leave them hidden in the grass or under a tree while she stalked her prey – teaching by example, she allowed them to learn the intricacies of the hunt. The cubs observed their mother – how she scanned the terrain, identified her prey, locked her gaze on the target, crouched stealthily, then crept forward and pounced at the right moment to overpower her target. Over time, the cubs began participating in the hunts. Their youthful impatience often got the better of them; one of them would often rush in too soon, causing the prey to escape. But this, too, was an essential part of their learning process – learning both what to do and what not to do.

By the time P2 and her siblings, including Pandu, were around a year and a half old, they had nearly grown to their mother’s size. They started venturing out on their own, making attempts at hunting. Most attempts ended in failure, but with each one, they gained experience.

One February morning in 2012, this family of five was resting comfortably in the grass near the edge of Pandharpauni-2. The yellowish tinge of the grass made it easy for the tigers to blend in. Not far away, seven lesser adjutant storks were perched on a tamarind tree. These were no ordinary birds – about as tall as a tiger, around 110 centimetres, and weighing nearly six kilograms. After a while, the storks took flight and headed towards the waterhole. Just as they were about to land, one of the cubs launched into the air, paws outstretched and grabbed a stork mid-flight. Startled by the sudden attack, the remaining storks flapped furiously into the sky, screeching loudly.

A little later, P2 emerged from the grass, proudly carrying the large stork in her mouth!

While the cubs were being trained to hunt, their playful mischief was far from over – especially for P2, who was always up to something. Restless by nature, she constantly played pranks on her siblings, often driving her siblings to the brink of irritation.

Even the forest staff weren’t spared from her antics.

Every year, Buddha Purnima – the birth anniversary of Lord Gautam Buddha – is a very special night in the forest. It marks the first full moon of the Hindu calendar month Vaishakha. On this night, forest personnel take positions on watchtowers near waterholes to monitor and record animal activity. That year, a few staff members were stationed at a machan (a watchtower made of wood and iron used for wildlife observation) near Ainbodi. There was a mahua tree standing about five feet away from the structure. Around 6 to 6.15 in the evening, Leela arrived at the waterhole with her cubs. After drinking, they settled down to rest – everyone, that is, except P2! True to form, she was drawn to the machan. She circled it a couple of times, while the forest staff above watched her in amusement. But then she began climbing the nearby mahua tree. Panic spread through the machan. The staff decided to radio their superiors for help. By then, P2 had already climbed about seven feet—just five more, and she would have reached the platform. Just then, a well-timed call from Leela broke her focus. P2 abandoned her climb and came down. The team on the machan heaved a collective sigh of relief.

On another day, several tourist vehicles had stopped in the forest at a clearing. A forest guard dismounted from his motorcycle to guide the vehicles into proper formation to prevent crowding. Meanwhile, P2 emerged from the bushes behind the vehicles. Despite the presence of all the tourist vehicles, she showed no signs of fear. With a calm, confident stride, she crossed the road and approached the parked motorcycle. Tourists gasped in amazement at her boldness. The forest guard, however, quickly took cover in a nearby Gypsy. P2 was unfazed. Her eyes lit up when she saw the motorcycle – it was something new, something to explore. She sniffed around and noticed a small object dangling from the handlebars: the guard’s lunchbox. Her eyes gleamed again, her mischievous streak kicking in. She deftly grabbed the lunchbox with her teeth and trotted off with it as if collecting a toll from those trespassing in her territory. It wouldn’t be the last time, either – on two more occasions, she snatched lunchboxes from unsuspecting forest guards.

Yet the staff couldn’t help but admire her playful nature. They had begun to realise that this tigress was unlike any other they had known. Photographers and tourists, too, were enchanted by her. Even at such a young age, she seemed to pose fearlessly for the camera.

The same cub would later became known across the world as “Maya”. How she got that name is a story in itself – but for now, let’s just call her Maya.

Excerpted with permission from Maya: The Biography of a Tiger, Anant Sonawane, HarperCollins India.