SUGARCANE TIGER

In the sugarcane fields of Pilibhit, where tigers now live and hunt beyond the forest, women farm workers navigate a landscape shaped by predator conflict, precarious labour and constant panic

- Anuj Behal

About a month ago, around 6 in the morning, when the sun had only just begun to press its heat into the fields of Pilibhit in Uttar Pradesh, Chameli Devi, 60, stepped out for rakhwali—her daily work of keeping watch over the standing crop, warding off stray cattle, nilgai, and whatever else the forest might send into the fields.

The wheat, brushing against the edge of the forest fence, stood ready for harvest.

That morning, the fields somehow felt hostile. Then a low, guttural roar cut through the stillness. Chameli froze. About 15 metres ahead, well inside the field but partly concealed between the standing wheat and the thinning tree line, stood a tiger.

“It was almost camouflaged in the cereal grass,” she says. “It was only when I looked closely, in the direction of the sound, that the black stripes began to stand out.”

“The roar hit me like a bolt, right there, under my feet. I just made sure I didn’t lose my calm.” Years of working these lands had taught her how to hold her ground, even when the boundary between the forest and field dissolves without warning. She stood still—until the tiger turned away. Only then did Chameli break into a run, fleeing the farm.

Encounters like Chameli’s are not rare here; if anything, they are part of the rhythm of life in the Pilibhit forest belt. Across the world, an estimated 46.7 million people live alongside tigers, but the forests of Pilibhit and their surrounding areas support among the highest human population densities of any tiger conservation landscape. Located in the Terai belt, where the Himalayan foothills slope into the Indo-Gangetic plains, the region forms part of the Terai Arc Landscape, with the Pilibhit Tiger Reserve anchoring this network through its sal forests and grasslands.