Captivated in Kaladungi: The Jim Corbett Museum and a Station named Kathgodam
On a chilly December morning, we stepped down at the picturesque Kathgodam Railway Station, a place I had read about in Sir Jim Corbett's book. What unfolded was the beginning of a brilliant journey, which included a hearty breakfast, a surreal hour at the Jim Corbett Museum and the realisation of a dream.
TRAVELWILDLIFE
DEEPUNGSU PANDIT
11/14/20267 min read
For the believer, touching down in the lands of the gods is a step towards attaining Moksha or spiritual upliftment. It is, perhaps, how my wife felt when we got down from the Rajdhani Express at 01:30 am one chilly December night in Varanasi.
I am no believer, although I do not question the belief of my better half and the thousands of devotees, all of whom thronged the Kashi Vishwanath Temple three hours later that day. There are few things as uplifting as realizing one’s precious dream, something, as was the case with my wife, that you have been waiting for all your life.
That, however, was how I felt when we reached the Kathgodam Railway Station a couple of mornings later.
Fresh from a spiritual experience in Varanasi, we had stopped at Lucknow for half a day. After immersing ourselves in the heavenly Galouti Kebab from Tunday Kababi, we boarded the Kathgodam Express on a freezing December evening.
Keeping with the trend of that holiday season, I had to dart across the platform at Lucknow Railway Station to catch the train, which departed within minutes of my boarding! Of course, that would not be the last time I would have to rush at a Railway Station in the same week.
Anyway, the Kathgodam Express is a decent train with the basic amenities expected of an overnight locomotive. The bed rolls could have been better, the compartment a little cleaner, but we did not feel the need to complain. Instead, we spent some time watching the stars glittering in the night sky through the glass window. Pretty soon, the gentle cooing of the night train chugging through the countryside ushered us to sleep.
A Place by the Hills
When we woke up, the landscape had changed. The biggest additions were the blue mountains on the horizon and the increased amount of greenery around. The train stopped at Haldwani Station before proceeding towards Kathgodam.
This is a station I had heard of many a times from none other than the legendary shikari and wildlife conservationist, Jim Corbett. Of course, we were not directly conversing with each other!
The Legendary Carpet Saab
I think this is the right time to acknowledge that I am a huge fan of the White Sadhu. But I do not admire Sir Jim Corbett simply for his hunting skills or for his ability to nullify man-eaters. I admire him for his knowledge of the wild, for his compassion for animals, for his ability to write stories.
But most of all, I adore the man for his love of this country and its people, regardless of their race, religion, caste or creed. I am happy to admit that “Carpet Saab” is one of my idols, someone I have looked up to ever since I read his entire work, not once, but thrice!
The legendary man has rid this country of several man-eaters, and for that he is rightly revered. His courage and bravery are second to none, and his aim is inch-perfect. But Sir Jim Corbett was also an exquisite writer, whose stories are crisp, engaging and iconic.
Like many children of this country, I grew up on the White Sadhu’s stories. The Man-Eaters of Kumaon was part of the syllabus during our academic years, and like every child feasting on storybooks, I read it too. Corbett the Shikari is a revered name across the world, but it was only when I discovered Corbett the person a couple of years ago, while reading his omnibus, that I found myself drawn to him.
It is rare to discover a foreigner who finds a connection to the Indian masses so deep that he refers to them as ‘my people’ like Carpet Saab did.
People mostly know him for the famous Man-Eaters of Kumaon, and, especially, the Man-Eating Leopard of Rudraprayag. Yet, perhaps some of his best works are in the collection of stories titled “My India”, where he refers to the poor and common folk of this country as his people.
It is this love for the land, its animals, its forests and its people that has made him a hero in my eyes. I have seen his world through his eyes, through his words. I have felt his excitement as he waited over a kill. I have gone numb when he recalled a tiger stalking him or the many instances where a carnivore leapt at him. I have seen his transformation from a skilled hunter to a conservationist, who eventually left the gun to pick up the camera.
Stepping on Corbett Land!
Sir Jim Corbett is obviously one of my favourite authors as well, so I think you can understand how I felt when I stepped down at the Kathgodam Station.
I was on his land!
Nestled at the foothills of the Himalayas, this picturesque place immediately tugs at the hearts of every person who ends up here. But for me, things were a little bit more memorable. Kathgodam is the gateway to the fabled Jim Corbett National Park, a place I have been waiting to visit for a long, long time.
It was important to introduce my son properly to the great man, the one whose book is an omnipresent feature on his father’s study desk. As such, our first stop from Kathgodam was Kaladungi, at Jim Corbett’s house, which has now been transformed into a museum.
We booked a cab from the counter at the Kathgodam Railway Station for Ramnagar, where Jim Corbett National Park is located, with a strict instruction – a minimum one-hour stop at the Corbett Museum. A charming local fellow called Adnan, who was in charge of dropping us off, did one better.
Breakfast at Chaska!
First, Adnan took us to a nice little restaurant called Chaska for breakfast. We were famished after the overnight journey and gorged on aloo parathas, idli and a fantastic “feeki” chai.
Then, as promised, he dropped us at the Jim Corbett Museum and did not complain about the delay.
The Jim Corbett Museum
The entry fee here is 100/- per head, and I felt as excited as a child as I walked through the door. There is a huge map on the wall that outlines the location of Corbett’s exploits, which I lapped up in glee. We spent an hour at the legendary author’s home, clicking pictures, learning and revelling in the life of the man who gave his heart to this region. His beloved dog and constant companion, Robin, is also buried at this place.
We walked through the rooms, which contained some fascinating pictures and insight into his life. I told my son stories of the White Sadhu, and learned many new facts about his life that are not available in the book. Also present are never-before-seen pictures from his life, his diaries, which I would have loved to have a look at, and several of his pieces of furniture in varied degrees of preservation.
His hunting equipment and binoculars are available as well, along with his tent and chairs and several other instruments that he had used. It is a must-visit for every Corbett enthusiast like me.
I walked through the lawn, lapping up the December sun and imagining that around a century ago, the great man himself had strolled through this place. For the atheist in me, this was my holy ground, my shrine.
It was one dream ticked off on my checklist.
A beautiful souvenir shop
We ended the tour with a visit to the cosy little shop on the premises, where we picked up souvenirs to remember this visit. Some hats, a tiger figurine, a wooden tiger-paw paperweight, all of which regularly remind me of that glorious December day when I had walked on Sir Jim Corbett’s lawn.
Leaving Kaladungi
As we drove from Kaladungi to Ram Nagar, I had a million things on my mind. I thought of the man who roamed through his area day and night, risking his life to rid the common people of several man-eating beasts. A menace so severe that people were afraid of leaving their homes after dusk, where women were snatched from their doorsteps, and children were picked up from their beds.
And Sir Jim Corbett rescued this region for no compensation apart from the love of the people of the land.
And love he found in abundance, as was evident as we approached the wild, formerly known as the Hailey National Park and which later was christened in his name. Here every resort bears the name Corbett, immortalised as much by his legacy as by the commercial boom that has swept the place.
And while the pangs of civilisation continue to threaten the forest, as war and hatred threaten to engulf the world once again, it is perhaps time for us all to remember the great man and his teachings. Recalling a heartwarming incident of two kids lost in the wild in the aptly named “The Law of the Jungles” in My India, Corbett recalls:
“Had the creator made the same law for man as He has made for the jungle folk, there would be no wars, for the strong in man would have the same consideration for the weak as is the established law of the jungles.”
-The Law of the Jungles, My India
From one storyteller to another, I use this platform to thank the great man for standing by the poor and simple folk of my country, for loving our forests, and for inspiring me to become not just a writer but also a good man.