A century ago, the feudal species made a fetish of tiger shooting. Those aspiring for special accolades from the raj would organize tiger hunts and invite its local representatives — the divisional commissioner, the district magistrate or the resident agent — to join in the fun and games. The culture persisted for at least a full quarter of a century following independence; living room walls of the nouveau riche would display an array of tiger skins bought at fancy prices.

Perhaps that epoch still evokes nostalgia for leftover colonial types. But they are a minority, pushed to the corner by the new generations of campaigners for wildlife preservation. Somebody has pushed the panic button: the tiger population in the country has reportedly dwindled over the past century from an estimated 40,000 to barely 1,400. It is not necessary to take seriously either figure: the counting of big cats was comprehensively impressionist a hundred years ago; it is only a shade less so now. There is no question, though, that the number of tigers in the country, as in the rest of the world, has shrunk significantly. Awareness about biodiversity has increased by leaps and bounds in this globalized age; international campaigns to save the tiger have now made common cause with local enthusiasts: William Blake’s ode to the bearer of the “fearful symmetry” must not be in vain.

The media have woken to the theme. Political leaders and film stars have signed up too, as have schoolchildren. Official vigilance to stop poaching — one major cause of the erosion of the wildlife population — everybody is agreed, has to intensify, and be supplemented by activities on the part of citizens’ vigilance groups.

The issue is, however, much more complicated than what is made to appear to schoolchildren treated to 15-minute homilies. The forest cover in the country that scientists suggest should be at least one-third of the total land mass, is down to less than one-half of that norm. Population pressure has led to gradual encroachment on forest land for purposes of both dwelling and cultivation. There is also the other fact of loss of forest land through natural erosion. The progressive disappearance of natural habitat for wildlife is equally attributable to the role of marauding woodcutters, either working for big operators or self-employed. In particular areas, even as forest area has steadily diminished, poor men and women, desperate to protect the few square metres of land they could claim as their own, have determinedly gone to battle against tigers. To convince simple folk in the hundreds of thousands of villages in the country that they must stop regarding the tiger as a constant threat to their life, hearth and home has been no easy matter.

The point that safe habitats need to be created for tigers is well taken; they must feel secure, have enough prey at their disposal and the natural surroundings must be conducive to their procreation. Once the authorities make up their mind, all difficulties in the way of initiating measures to expand the number of tiger reserves and to provide them with the required infrastructure would be smoothly resolved — or so it may be thought.

In no time we knock against the rock of hard reality. Ecological balance, yes: but is saving the tiger the only item on the social agenda? Are tigers the only species desperately needing habitat? In state after state — and not just in the northern and central regions, as far down as Kerala too — the tribal population, the original inhabitants of this noble ancient land, have been progressively dispossessed of their traditional residential space. They have been victims not so much of predatory animals as of human species on the prowl: landlords who encroach in order to increase the size of their fief, corporate bodies seeking land for plants and factories, adventurers eager to dig up tribal land in the hope of unearthing rich minerals, commercial barons determined to evict the tribes and use their land for coffee, tea or rubber plantations, sponsors of special economic zones, and other corporate entities, land sharks keen to pre-empt corporate operators so as to bargain subsequently with the latter over land price.

The original human occupants of the country’s hills, fields and valleys are as much an endangered species as the big cat is stated to be. It has taken many struggles, but finally a legislation with a mouthful of a title, the Scheduled Tribes and Other Traditional Forest Dwellers (Recognition of Forest Rights) Act, 2006, has been recently put on the statute book. It expresses the appropriate sentiments. Its primary objective is to demarcate areas that were traditionally inhabited by tribal groups: the stated intention is to mark these areas as inviolable, in the sense that such habitats cannot be claimed by any others for any alternative purposes.

However, as happens with most statutes, even the contents of the forest rights act are cluttered with several conditional clauses, opening up the possibility of clever lawyers, engaged by interested parties with unlimited funds, play ring-a-ring-a roses with the prerogatives of traditional tribal dwellers of forest lands. Some of these characters might in fact act as fronts for SEZ tycoons or similar types. After all, those in authority have been most thoughtful; despite 60-odd years of independence, the tribal people have been spared the contamination of educational opportunities, thereby weakening their efforts to mobilize in defence of their natural — and legal — rights. They have till now proved no match for scheming urban encroachers. A few political parties and a number of non-governmental organizations have helped the tribes to carry out sporadic movements in isolated pockets against the systematic process of denying them what belongs to them.

The forest rights act is the outcome of these endeavours, but there are ways and ways to frustrate the intent of a legislation if it hurts the interests of those who are elliptically referred to as the powers-that-be. Whether unwittingly or otherwise, zealots of the save-the-tiger campaign could actually further muddy the picture. In several states, the quest for habitat for tigers is likely to involve competition for space with tribal rehabilitation. Fly-by-night operators might appear on the scene to argue that priority belongs to the tigers and not to the tribals. They could even apply some seemingly cold logic, such as, tribal people are fast going through the learning curve and could be expected to acquire, soon enough, clout to protect their prerogatives on their own; on the other hand, tigers are lonely, tragic figures, needing some extra consideration, otherwise they could well vanish altogether from the face of earth.

So please do not be surprised if, all of a sudden, there is an explosion in the number of tiger-lovers in the country, and applicants for land for setting up SEZs begin to append a pledge that a part of the area they would like to be allotted to them would be set aside as a tiger reserve. The forest rights act would then rest in peace.

It is an uplifting experience, watching on television fresh-faced schoolchildren affirming their determination to save the nation’s big cat population. A wild idea takes shape. What about organizing similar groups of schoolchildren from affluent families to parade before the TV screen and solemnly express their resolve to extricate kids of their age-group belonging to tribal households from the quagmire of hunger, malnutrition, illiteracy and insecurity of living conditions?