Things can be quite tame in the great wildlife

It is keenly shared among my friends that I detest pandas. This is only partly true. While the Chinese probably never adopted them as pets because they leave awful black and white stains on the couch, they are remarkably useless otherwise as well.

Most of the time, sitting on their lazy asses, their low desire to procreate is baffling. Certainly considering they are at risk of extinction. Pandas can't even be relied on for their own survival. I will let that sink in.

Pandas can't be seen in the wild anymore. The closest they get is a breeding reserve in Chengdu. Considering the gastronomic delights the city has to offer, in which Sichuan pepper gives dishes their distinct flavour, it is a shame to see pandas limit themselves to bamboo.

Animals either confined or in the wild often prove to be disappointing, though. Once visiting Kruger Park in South Africa, we realised this all too well. Being driven around in a mini truck, with back benches installed at different levels, we were all guaranteed an uninterrupted view of the African wilderness unfolding itself in front of us, as if attending a Taylor Swift concert.

Lions lazily licked their paws, antelopes darted in front of the vehicle, zebras continued grazing without further ado. The occasional giraffe stuck its neck out to see who was approaching. It was all impossibly dull. No lion seemed remotely inclined to turn an impala into an afternoon snack. No monkey appeared interested in adding some entertainment to this long day out in the sun.

Meanwhile, the other passengers were incredibly busy checking off all the animals they had seen in a guide designed for that purpose.

Lured to the Sundarbans after reading Amitav Ghosh's incredible 2004 novel The Hungry Tide, a search for the man-eating tiger had been equally disenchanting. After days on the water, we had stopped on shore, one of the scouts having spotted a thick footprint in the sand. As we gathered around it, a monkey stood in silent contemplation nearby. I swear I could see it shake its head because of the nonsense of it all.

Back in Kolkata, our car had gotten stuck behind an elephant carrying wood. Soon after which we met with an even larger traffic jam because of buffaloes crossing the road. A gaggle of monkeys was seen cackling in a tree nearby, as if discussing possible solutions to offer to the lone traffic cop trying to untangle the mess.

At dusk, recently in Brunei's capital Bandar Seri Begawan, we took a boat up the river dusk to catch a glimpse of the local proboscis monkey. Known for its unusually large nose, we found it high up in the treetops. The boatman mimicked its groans and squeals for it to reveal itself. It clearly had better things to do - fresh nuts and fruits for dinner. It looked exactly like the stuffed toys we had seen at the airport.

I will make an exception for gorillas, though. Travelling through Rwanda during the pandemic, I had not realised I needed a negative test to visit these great apes. This could be arranged at the visitor's centre, though the service was not included in the $1,500 I had paid for the hour-long meet-and-greet with a gorilla family. By the time negative results were confirmed, all other groups had long left, leaving me in a party of one with the final remaining guide.

Glad to see I was the only visitor, juvenile gorillas eager to play greeted me with a gentle fist bump in my belly, while a silverback kept a close eye, making sure it did not get too wild. For an hour, I felt like a welcome guest of this family of 14 going about their business. That did not disappoint.

I hope to see them emerging from the mist again someday.