But in the “buffer zone” outside the park, many villagers have mixed feelings about the tiger boom. Dil Bahadur Purja Pun, chief of the Chitwan park rangers, understands their concerns.
“We have no new target [for the tiger population], as we have already tripled their numbers. Now, we have to focus on balancing this, to maintain the population while mitigating conflicts,” he says. “It is quite difficult, but not impossible.”
Lilarag, however, seems unconvinced. “I don’t know if it’s possible to control the tigers”, he says, gesturing at the idyllic landscape in front of his house. Distant mountains tower above rice paddy fields, but he can also see the forest where his wife risked her life to save his own.
“I’ve not been back into the forest since it happened. I’m very scared, I cannot go inside,” says Lilarag, recoiling at the idea.
He doesn’t remember much of the attack; he blacked out as the tiger clawed his face and neck, and woke up disoriented in a hospital ward a week later. He remained there for 15 days as doctors reconstructed his face – his left jaw is now held together with a metal bolt.
“Most people when they encounter a tiger, they’re going to die. But I got another life from my wife,” Lilarag says. “If she had also run, I would have died. So I feel like I have a new life.”
Mangal smiles. They know how different the outcome could have been, several families in their village have lost relatives to the apex predators.
“The tigers come from here, but so do we – our communities have lived here for a very long time,” says Mangal, glancing at the long, jagged scar the tiger claw left on Lilarag’s face. “Sometimes it feels to me too hard to live with tigers beside us.”
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