I was on my way to Jaipur for a shoot. This was my first air travel post the Coronavirus lockdown. Just before leaving, I got a call from my friend, a photography teacher and fellow wildlife lover, Sarosh Lodhi. He told me about the Jhalana Leopard Reserve, a marvel in the heart of the city, whose natural heritage, no doubt, surpasses all man-made structures.

On the day of the shoot, we took a scenic route through the forts of Amer, Hawa Mahal, Johri Bazaar and the little heritage gateways that reminded me of our transient existence. Enroute we came across many elephants bouncing their way to wherever they were headed, making Hathi Gaon a destination on my wish list.

The shoot took place on a road going through the Nahar Singh forest just outside Jaipur. Riding the winding hill road meandering through the forest on a motorbike, reminded me of a more carefree existence.

At 3 am, I finally got to bed a bit unsure of the possibility of making it to the safari. Waking up at 5.15 am, I dragged myself out of bed and drank some strong coffee to get going. We reached Jhalana Reserve in barely 20 minutes from the centre of Jaipur. I was struck by its proximity to a big city as I’ve always had to travel hours to get to any such areas. The 23 sq km area of Jhalana housed 30 odd leopards. The leopards are all around us, and I strongly feel that leopard habitats should be designated protected areas, which will, in turn, save the lungs, especially of urban places like our own Aarey Colony in Mumbai.

Though the prey seemed sparse not long into the safari, Sumit Juneja, my door-to-door serviceman for the trip, spotted a leopard coming off a tree while I was busy photographing a kingfisher bird. I kicked myself for not being on a lookout for the cat that I had never seen in the wild, the purpose of me sitting in that jeep, glass-eyed and heavy-headed.

Alarm call! We were on a steep road, but our driver, Narender Meena, manoeuvred the jeep deftly and had us racing down the hill towards a couple of jeeps parked. There, lo and behold… was a mostly-eaten carcass of a Blue Bull female or a calf hanging precariously from a tree. The people already there told us they had seen a leopard climb down the tree and disappear into the thicket below. Damn! So near, yet so far. Every flick of non-green now seemed like a leopard, every movement enhanced. And then a rather big leopard jumped onto the tree and with grace and speed disappeared above into the branches. I was excited to see the big cat in its full glory and form, but at the same time, disappointed I couldn’t get my camera up quick enough to capture it. The more we get, the more we want!

I finally saw a leopard in the wild, but so fleetingly. I waited for another look. The carcass moved violently in bursts as the leopard was probably taking chunks of meat out of it. I could hear the seconds hand on my watch as forever passed. I adjusted the zoom back and forth for a good frame. And then, while we all focused on the treetop, from the thicket below emerged the cutest cat I’ve ever seen. She was, I came to learn, the mother of the young male leopard in the tree and an epitome of feline grace. The camera went off in my hand in the multiple shot setting as she looked straight in my lens with curiosity and calm bewilderment hard to describe. It was as if a model was giving me all the expressions and poses, so my desire of capturing her kind could be satiated. This was Flora, the first leopard I photographed.

A short moment later, things were to go from unbelievable to unimaginable. The male cub came down the trunk and paused, and sweet, beautiful Flora also climbed down to join him, as if to tell me to tell everyone of their beautiful habitat in the middle of the city, a call to secure their existence, which can resonate throughout the country and change the planet and its future. Both the mother and cub stood there halfway down the tree trunk, giving me the shot that’ll imprint in my soul forever. We must save them to save us from ourselves.”