A wrong turn or movement in the wrong direction by a single unit can bring traffic to a standstill in crowded geographies. Several doing it together can create a gridlock lasting days.
1.5 million doing it? At the same time?
Impossible!
Yet, it was happening. But in this corner of the world, where natural cycles continue unabated, and nobody tries to make anyone else developed, it had gone almost unnoticed.
Only when the herd was about to cross the scars of the East African Rift Valley, where calves stumbled on volcanic rocks and vultures patiently circled overhead, did the thought occur that something was amiss. Instead of tracing the path back to the Serengeti, to the southwest of the Masai Mara, across the Mara River, at this time of the year, the herd had decided to move in the opposite direction, to the North and East, through the Rift Valley.
By the time the herd started emerging out of the Rift Valley, word had gotten around that something unique, a once-in-a-millennium type of event, was unfolding in this forgotten corner of the world, and media crews had begun to descend. Nobody, not governments, not media, not militaries, could think about stopping the march; the march of over a million wildebeest away from their natural grazing grounds between Kenya and Tanzania.
Neither could they. They were all scared. They had no clue where the herd was going, and why, and hence could not shoulder the responsibility of disrupting this unfolding natural phenomenon. Governments and people in Ethiopia, Sudan, Egypt, could only watch the spectacle in wonder as the herd made its way up the coast and finally crossed over, through Israel, Jordan, and the Northern periphery of the Arabian Peninsula, rounded the Persian Gulf mouth near Kuwait, into Iran, hugging the coastline to keep the freezing conditions at bay.
Still over a million. Still marching. While resting and eating in groups along the way. Driven forward by an unexplained atavistic pull. Deeper and deeper into the crowded heart of Asia, through Pakistan and India, and via the Golf Course Road in Gurgaon, stopping for a bite at the Leisure Valley Park.
Finally, from Gurgaon, after walking in the shadow of the mighty Himalayas for over 2,000 km, they crossed the Brahmaputra River into the Kaziranga National Park. And each one of them knelt and plucked and ate a single blade of grass in gratefulness for having made the journey alive. Wimbledon was popular in the Serengeti, and the image of Novak winning his first title there was obviously close to the hearts of the wildebeest.
Not content being mute witnesses, the global human fraternity had set aside wars and conflicts and unilateral takeovers of territory with their sole attention to this drama, attempting to understand it and take credit for it, or blame someone for instigating it.
Their efforts had been rewarded. A tribe in the Serengeti had been found, members of which were able to understand wildebeest language. A few members of this tribe had been embedded with the wildebeest groups unobtrusively, either driving along in a Dodge RAM or Ford Raptor, or hovering in a helicopter where nobody could notice them.
And this unobtrusive attachment had revealed the reason behind this historic move, based on a conversation between a young wildebeest and its grandfather one night, while camping at the Maruti factory in Udyog Vihar.
Young calf: “Grandpa, why are we making this journey?”
Grandfather: “There is a land our grandfathers had spoken about, which they had heard from their grandfathers, and they from theirs, and so on, where the grass grows tall, where rivers wander lazily, and where rain arrives in torrents; where there are great tigers, elephants, alligators, rhinoceroses, and many other wonderful creatures. In that land, a great leader will be born who will improve regional connectivity while ensuring protection of its rich biodiversity.”
Young calf: “Grandpa, is that even possible?”
Grandfather: “I am proud of you. That is a very intelligent question. In the lands where we were born and grew up, we learned to respect nature. We learned that the benefits we take from nature with one hand, nature takes an equivalent back with the other hand. Sometimes we have to take some benefit from nature. While doing so, we humbly acknowledge and accept that nature will take an equivalent back from us in some way.”
Young calf: “But how does that explain anything?”
Grandfather: “Silence! I haven’t finished. But, every once in a while, maybe a millennium, a great leader is born who is taller than the grass and forces nature to not take back an equivalent. Nature gives with one hand, and then with the other. And that, my dear child, is the reason we are here. And here is the proof…” He carefully unfolded a piece of paper. “I have kept it ever since it was dropped in the Masai Mara by an Indian tourist by the name of Arora. In the meeting of elders, it was decided it was time to act, which is why instead of going South to Serengeti, we moved North and landed up here.”
“Building a 35-km elevated corridor by pouring reinforced concrete into the soil, erecting pylons across the plains blocking view and paths, laying out a grid of electric wires, creating noise and atmospheric pollution, destroying wetlands, forests and wildlife habitats all across Kaziranga, maintenance crews running in and out WHILE ensuring protection of Kaziranga National Park’s rich biodiversity AND caring for nature.” The young calf looked at the paper and said excitedly, while filling in some of the blanks in the printed statements. “And surely this means there will be monitoring cameras, preferably AI-driven. Who knows, I might even become viral,” it said shyly, displaying a far-beyond-years maturity and worldly knowledge. “We might even get to taste aerated drinks and fried potatoes that are carelessly thrown by responsible tourists. Who knows, one day we may get a bullet train passing through the park, or an airport, to care even more for nature and ensure even greater protection of Kaziranga National Park’s rich biodiversity. There is no looking back now, is there?”
The grandfather merely smiled indulgently as both of them looked admiringly at the great leader’s visage peeping out from a full-page ad in the Hindustan Times printed on that piece of paper.




