Predators’ Revenge

From the forests of Chandrapur to the coffee estates of Mysuru, the uneasy cohabitation between man and beast has been turning deadly of late. Over the past two months, a nine-year-old tiger killed six people across two forest divisions in Chandrapur, evading capture for weeks before finally walking into a cage baited with fresh meat. The caging of this tiger has brought to the fore the larger problem of human-animal conflict.

Across India, official records show that over 100 people are killed by tigers every year, a number that has steadily climbed as the country’s conservation successes collide with its development ambitions. Tigers, once endangered, are multiplying. But so are people, roads, mines and settlements encroaching upon what remains of the wild.

In Chandrapur, this contradiction is particularly stark. The district hosts a dense concentration of tigers - nearly 200 by some estimates - within a fragmented landscape of forests and coal mines. Tadoba-Andhari, Maharashtra’s oldest national park, sits amid a checkerboard of thermal power stations, open-cast mines, and expanding villages. The very success of Tadoba’s conservation programme, which has seen tiger numbers surge in recent years, has turned the surrounding areas into a danger zone. Dispersing tigers, especially young or ageing males pushed out of core territories, find themselves in human-dominated landscapes where cattle are easy prey and farmers an unintended casualty.

The tiger caged in Chandrapur is a case in point. Having killed six people, he became both a symbol of nature’s fury and a scapegoat for human neglect. In Karnataka’s Mysuru district, two fatal tiger attacks within a month have stirred anger and grief. The victims, both rural workers, were attacked while grazing cattle or working in fields abutting forest fringes. Villagers accuse the Forest Department of negligence, arguing that officials act only after tragedy strikes. For rural communities dependent on land and forest produce, coexistence has become a euphemism for fear.

Ecologists have long warned that as forest corridors shrink and buffer zones degrade, encounters between humans and tigers will rise. Satellite data confirm that in central and southern India, agricultural expansion and infrastructure projects have sliced through key wildlife passages. Tigers forced into smaller ranges face competition for prey and territory, leading some to venture into villages. The government’s approach remains reactive rather than preventive. State forest departments typically deploy capture squads only after multiple deaths. The Wildlife Institute of India’s 2019 guidelines urging habitat restoration and corridor protection have seen little traction on the ground.

India’s tiger success story, once a global conservation triumph, risks being marred by complacency. With nearly 3,000 tigers - over 70 percent of the world’s population - the country has proved that large predators can recover under protection. But that recovery is fragile. Unless habitat connectivity, scientific management and community participation become central to policy, the line between forest and field will keep blurring with tragic consequences for both man and beast.