Latest news with #ValmikThapar
Economist
4 days ago
- Politics
- Economist
In Iran there is, so far, no sign of a mutinous mood
A sudden war made Iran's leaders look unprepared. And many Iranians loathe the regime. But there are no signs yet that internal dissent will shape the conflict. Shortly after Nayib Bukele became El Salvador's president, he was labelled as the world's first millennial dictator; now he is going after his critics. And remembering Valmik Thapar, tireless campaigner for India's tigers. Runtime: 23 min
Hindustan Times
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Hindustan Times
Valmik Thapar: Cousin, critic, and wise counsel
I have to admit I was surprised. I knew he was a celebrity. On the subject of tigers, he was a world authority. His 40 books and his BBC series, Land of the Tiger, were clear testimony. But the newspaper coverage of his death suggested a level of admiration and respect I had not anticipated. It proved he was considered a truly special person — in many ways, an icon. Thus, Valmik Thapar's death revealed a legacy and a reputation his family had probably not appreciated. Perhaps even understood. Now, belatedly, we have realised the enormous impact he had as a conservationist and as an authority on tigers. He was the star of the present generation of our family. In many ways, Valu, as we knew him, was like the tigers he loved. He was powerful and gruff. He was a man of few words but capable of large warm gestures. And his appearance was striking. Big and broad, with a most beguiling smile and large twinkling eyes. Valu's laugh could bring everything to a sudden halt before the room spontaneously laughed with him. Though I have known him all my life, I really got to know him in my 20s. I was of the age when you think you know more than you do. On a holiday in India with a dear friend, Claire Winterschladen, Valu suggested we visit Ranthambore. 'If you haven't seen a tiger, you haven't lived', he teased and taunted us. 'I'll take you there and you'll have the time of your lives.' But what I didn't realise — although clearly Valu knew — is what those days in Ranthambore would mean. It was my first holiday in a jungle. The first time I'd vacationed with a girlfriend. The first time there was no parental authority or guardian to watch over and ensure I didn't step out of line. But Valu knew this would be the case. That's why he was so keen we visit Ranthambore. He was doing his bit to help a cousin grow up! In later years, when I was a journalist, he would often invite me to dinner and open my eyes to hidden aspects of stories I was following or to interpretations I had not thought about. Whenever he began a sentence with the words 'have you thought of this', I knew I had not. At first, I didn't realise that he was gently but cleverly guiding me. He did it unobtrusively. Sometimes, he would invite people to educate me. On other occasions, he would call to comment on an interview I'd done. Once or twice, he would alert me to a story in a newspaper he thought I may have overlooked. On each occasion, his advice was invaluable. He wasn't a politician, but he had an unerring feel for what would attract attention. He instinctively knew what would excite curiosity and could easily distinguish it from what was of interest only to the elites of Delhi's drawing rooms. But Valu was also my fairest critic. Others may have chafed at his comments, but I knew he had watched what I'd done and thought carefully before speaking. The one lesson I immediately accepted — but never fully mastered — was his advice not to let my voice rise when I'm speaking. 'There's no need to let your excitement show', he said. 'The content of what you say should be sufficient to capture the audience's attention. Keep your voice at an even pitch.' I rarely did. Now, every time I can't control my vocal chords and my voice rises up the register, I will remember Valu's sage advice. And that means I will be remembering him a lot! Karan Thapar is the author of Devil's Advocate: The Untold Story. The views expressed are personal
The Hindu
12-06-2025
- General
- The Hindu
Valmik Thapar and the golden light
He could have been carved from a granite crag of Ranthambhore, the place he delighted in. A mountain of a man, full-bearded, with a voice like thunder, Valmik Thapar could seem intimidating but was actually gentle and courteous. I enjoyed working with him on several of his books, and not one of my colleagues ever had an unkind word to say about him. That said, he was happiest in the wild, and didn't much care for the social circuit of Delhi, his home city. He wasn't one for small talk, preferring to use his voice, as with all the other faculties and resources he could muster, in service of the beloved tigers he had been obsessed with for 50 years. Valmik was the son of the distinguished public intellectuals Raj and Romesh Thapar, who started the influential magazine, Seminar. The Thapars were friends with many important politicians and industrialists, but did not hesitate to hold them to account when they erred. Valmik inherited the fearlessness of his parents and often took on the wealthy and powerful when they stood in the way of his determination to save wild tigers from extinction. Transforming Ranthambhore Over more than 40 books (including the last one he ever wrote, The Mysterious World Of Tigers — with his usual meticulousness, he finalised the proofs from his hospital bed, a few days before he passed away from cancer on May 31, 2025) and documentaries, he described in detail how he was drawn into the world of tigers. At the age of 23, he felt tired and disillusioned by the purposelessness of his life in Delhi. In early 1976, he decided to visit Ranthambhore in Rajasthan on the off chance he might see a tiger or two — there was no real thought behind this visit except the desire to flee the city and the ennui he felt there. When he disembarked at Sawai Madhopur, the train station from where he would have to make his way to Ranthambhore National Park, he wasn't much impressed by what he saw. A dirty small town in the Indian hinterland, indistinguishable from the other dirty small towns dotted all over the country, it seemed highly improbable that he was going to find any tigers there. Nevertheless, he figured he might as well get on with it. Hiring a horse carriage, he went in search of Fateh Singh Rathore, the warden of the park, who would go on to become his tiger guru. At the time that Valmik first began visiting Ranthambhore, it was almost impossible to see tigers. To start with, there were very few of them around — 13 or 14 at the outside. These animals rarely showed themselves, mainly because of the constant human activity within the park. Almost single-handedly, Rathore fought to save Ranthambhore's tigers. He resettled more than a dozen villages within the core area, watched over the tigers to ensure they weren't disturbed, went after poachers at considerable risk to his own life, lobbied governments and bureaucrats, raised funds, and more. In Valmik, he found a willing chela (disciple) and a tremendous ally. Through their efforts, along with those of a few other kindred spirits, and a host of dedicated forest officials, Ranthambhore is today a shining example of tiger conservation. What began as 400 sq. km. of parkland has grown to 1,700 sq. km. And, there are almost 100 tigers in Ranthambhore and sightings are common. Emotional engagement Although self-taught, Valmik was a first-rate naturalist, his field observations over the decades considerably expanding our understanding of the magnificent big cat. But what set him apart from other dedicated naturalists was the way in which he disseminated his passion for tigers. Anyone who has read his books and watched his movies can see that devotion come shining through. He would talk unabashedly about the tears that rolled down his cheeks when he saw tiny cubs playing with their mother, Laxmi; he would mention the awe he felt when he saw Genghis, the master hunter, who ruled the area of Ranthambhore's lakes, first demonstrate the art of hunting prey in the water; and he wouldn't shy away from confessing his love for a special tiger he named Noon. In his new book, he writes: 'She was a tiger who filled up my senses… Fateh teased me… that I had fallen in love with this tigress… Many scientist friends warned me to keep detached and not humanise tigers, but in truth, I was delighted with my emotional engagement with Noon. It deepened my understanding of the mysterious world of tigers.' One of the things Valmik cherished was walking with tigers, especially in the early mornings. In his words, 'As the sun rises, the golden light slides off the tiger's body. It's a magnificent spectacle.' As I write this tribute, I see him striding through that radiance, watching for all eternity over wave upon wave of Ranthambhore's tigers. The writer is a publisher and author.
New York Times
09-06-2025
- General
- New York Times
Valmik Thapar, Tenacious Tiger Conservationist in India, Is Dead
Valmik Thapar, a tenacious conservationist who wrote eloquently about tigers in India and worked to protect them against the impact of poachers, the loss of habitat and government policies that he abhorred, died on May 31 at his home in New Delhi. He was 72 or 73. His family said in a statement that the cause was cancer. He was born in 1952, though the specific date is unclear. Mr. Thapar was a big man with a loud, hyperarticulate and uncompromising style, which he channeled in service of tigers. He believed that they deserved nothing less than 'inviolate protected areas' in which to live without human encroachment. 'He was not an institutional person, but he was an institution unto himself because of his knowledge, sensitivity and ability to communicate,' Ravi Singh, the chief executive and secretary general of the World Wildlife Fund-India, said in an interview. Ullas Karanth, the former India program director of the Wildlife Conservation Society, which operates four zoos and an aquarium in New York City, said in email that Mr. Thapar had 'used his deep political and media connections to widely publicize the 'tiger crisis.'' The tiger population in India, home to most of the world's wild tigers, fell from about 40,000 in the 1950s to 1,411 in 2006. But conservation efforts have led to its substantial growth, to 3,682 in 2022. In the Ranthambhore Tiger Reserve, in the northwestern state of Rajasthan, where Mr. Thapar first fell in love with the animals, the number rose from about 15 in 2006 to about 70 in 2022, Mr. Singh said. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Time of India
03-06-2025
- General
- Time of India
Valmik Thapar on the tigress that made him fall in love with the wild
Valmik Thapar, conservationist and chronicler of India's wild tigers, died on May 31. In this excerpt from 'Living with Tigers', he recounts how Padmini, in the 1970s, initiated him into the Ranthambore forest and changed his life forever
