Valmik Thapar and the golden light

The Hindu

12-06-2025

He could have been carved from a granite crag of Ranthambhore, the place he delighted in. A mountain of a man, full-bearded, with a voice like thunder, Valmik Thapar could seem intimidating but was actually gentle and courteous. I enjoyed working with him on several of his books, and not one of my colleagues ever had an unkind word to say about him. That said, he was happiest in the wild, and didn't much care for the social circuit of Delhi, his home city. He wasn't one for small talk, preferring to use his voice, as with all the other faculties and resources he could muster, in service of the beloved tigers he had been obsessed with for 50 years.
Valmik was the son of the distinguished public intellectuals Raj and Romesh Thapar, who started the influential magazine, Seminar. The Thapars were friends with many important politicians and industrialists, but did not hesitate to hold them to account when they erred. Valmik inherited the fearlessness of his parents and often took on the wealthy and powerful when they stood in the way of his determination to save wild tigers from extinction.
Transforming Ranthambhore
Over more than 40 books (including the last one he ever wrote, The Mysterious World Of Tigers — with his usual meticulousness, he finalised the proofs from his hospital bed, a few days before he passed away from cancer on May 31, 2025) and documentaries, he described in detail how he was drawn into the world of tigers.
At the age of 23, he felt tired and disillusioned by the purposelessness of his life in Delhi. In early 1976, he decided to visit Ranthambhore in Rajasthan on the off chance he might see a tiger or two — there was no real thought behind this visit except the desire to flee the city and the ennui he felt there.
When he disembarked at Sawai Madhopur, the train station from where he would have to make his way to Ranthambhore National Park, he wasn't much impressed by what he saw. A dirty small town in the Indian hinterland, indistinguishable from the other dirty small towns dotted all over the country, it seemed highly improbable that he was going to find any tigers there. Nevertheless, he figured he might as well get on with it. Hiring a horse carriage, he went in search of Fateh Singh Rathore, the warden of the park, who would go on to become his tiger guru.
At the time that Valmik first began visiting Ranthambhore, it was almost impossible to see tigers. To start with, there were very few of them around — 13 or 14 at the outside. These animals rarely showed themselves, mainly because of the constant human activity within the park. Almost single-handedly, Rathore fought to save Ranthambhore's tigers. He resettled more than a dozen villages within the core area, watched over the tigers to ensure they weren't disturbed, went after poachers at considerable risk to his own life, lobbied governments and bureaucrats, raised funds, and more.
In Valmik, he found a willing chela (disciple) and a tremendous ally. Through their efforts, along with those of a few other kindred spirits, and a host of dedicated forest officials, Ranthambhore is today a shining example of tiger conservation. What began as 400 sq. km. of parkland has grown to 1,700 sq. km. And, there are almost 100 tigers in Ranthambhore and sightings are common.
Emotional engagement
Although self-taught, Valmik was a first-rate naturalist, his field observations over the decades considerably expanding our understanding of the magnificent big cat. But what set him apart from other dedicated naturalists was the way in which he disseminated his passion for tigers. Anyone who has read his books and watched his movies can see that devotion come shining through. He would talk unabashedly about the tears that rolled down his cheeks when he saw tiny cubs playing with their mother, Laxmi; he would mention the awe he felt when he saw Genghis, the master hunter, who ruled the area of Ranthambhore's lakes, first demonstrate the art of hunting prey in the water; and he wouldn't shy away from confessing his love for a special tiger he named Noon.
In his new book, he writes: 'She was a tiger who filled up my senses… Fateh teased me… that I had fallen in love with this tigress… Many scientist friends warned me to keep detached and not humanise tigers, but in truth, I was delighted with my emotional engagement with Noon. It deepened my understanding of the mysterious world of tigers.'
One of the things Valmik cherished was walking with tigers, especially in the early mornings. In his words, 'As the sun rises, the golden light slides off the tiger's body. It's a magnificent spectacle.' As I write this tribute, I see him striding through that radiance, watching for all eternity over wave upon wave of Ranthambhore's tigers.
The writer is a publisher and author.