As an adult, Billy returned from the army after the second great war and moved to these lands bordering the forests of Dudhwa, hoping to make a living as a farmer. It was difficult because these lands were overrun by stray and wild ungulates, and yet 
Billy succeeded in running the farm in the lap of nature, sharing its bounties with the wild animals who frequented it. Around the same time, in the 1960s, he took up cudgels against the rather popular sport-hunting outfitters who organised trophy hunting expeditions for rich paying clients. Billy was almost single-handedly responsible for driving them out and having the government ban trophy hunting for good. In a way, he was atoning for the transgressions of his early days. And Dudhwa, especially its rare barasinghas, owe an invaluable debt to this man for dedicating his life to protecting the park from poachers, land grabbers, and securing the future of this deer.
But when I ask him of his legacy, he seems unsure. “Democracy will kill the tiger. There are just too many of us and soon these forest too will have to go. What can you do?”, he says. I’m saddened to hear him say that. I was hoping that he, more than anyone else would hold out defiant hope. After all, isn’t he the most decorated conservationist in the world, having won awards and appreciation from all quarters and corners and isn’t he the man who poachers still fear? And isn’t he the man who has repeatedly achieved the impossible, whether it be protecting a forgotten landscape from eternal destruction or be it successfully returning hand reared leopards and tigers back to the wild. “What can I do? I’m an old man now. Everybody I know is gone. I’m just waiting for the end. Soon, I’ll be gone too… and so would the forests.” I must’ve looked crestfallen, and I was. Though physically much taller, I felt dwarfed by the majesty and aura of the man. I must’ve seemed like a sad little boy who’s had his last shred of hope wrenched away from his hopeful heart. The affectionate old man seemed to take pity on the little boy sitting across him and his eyes softened… “I haven’t given up yet. I might be old but I’m not going to quit. I’m still working hard… I can’t give up the fight.” There’s fire burning in that belly yet… the old tiger roars still… ....Continue
Billy succeeded in running the farm in the lap of nature, sharing its bounties with the wild animals who frequented it. Around the same time, in the 1960s, he took up cudgels against the rather popular sport-hunting outfitters who organised trophy hunting expeditions for rich paying clients. Billy was almost single-handedly responsible for driving them out and having the government ban trophy hunting for good. In a way, he was atoning for the transgressions of his early days. And Dudhwa, especially its rare barasinghas, owe an invaluable debt to this man for dedicating his life to protecting the park from poachers, land grabbers, and securing the future of this deer.But when I ask him of his legacy, he seems unsure. “Democracy will kill the tiger. There are just too many of us and soon these forest too will have to go. What can you do?”, he says. I’m saddened to hear him say that. I was hoping that he, more than anyone else would hold out defiant hope. After all, isn’t he the most decorated conservationist in the world, having won awards and appreciation from all quarters and corners and isn’t he the man who poachers still fear? And isn’t he the man who has repeatedly achieved the impossible, whether it be protecting a forgotten landscape from eternal destruction or be it successfully returning hand reared leopards and tigers back to the wild. “What can I do? I’m an old man now. Everybody I know is gone. I’m just waiting for the end. Soon, I’ll be gone too… and so would the forests.” I must’ve looked crestfallen, and I was. Though physically much taller, I felt dwarfed by the majesty and aura of the man. I must’ve seemed like a sad little boy who’s had his last shred of hope wrenched away from his hopeful heart. The affectionate old man seemed to take pity on the little boy sitting across him and his eyes softened… “I haven’t given up yet. I might be old but I’m not going to quit. I’m still working hard… I can’t give up the fight.” There’s fire burning in that belly yet… the old tiger roars still… ....Continue
