A day in the life of an elephant and its mahout at Theppakadu camp in Mudumalai

On World Elephant Day (August 12), meet the mahouts of the 105-year-old Theppakadu camp at Mudumalai Tiger Reserve, renowned for working with rescued conflict animals

Wasim’s trunk pauses midair as he reaches for a bamboo shoot. His mahout, M Eswaran, calls out a command from a distance and in a split second, the elephant changes course. The shoot is far from his reach, and hangs above a slippery clump of grass: Eswaran had alerted his elephant.

The 28 elephants of Tamil Nadu Forest Department’s Theppakadu camp at Mudumalai Tiger Reserve (MTR) in the Nilgiris, are cared for by some of the country’s most experienced mahouts, many of whom have transformed the lives of their elephants.  

Camp elephants consist of rescued and captured conflict animals, that are then tamed and trained by a mahout. “They assist us in mitigating man-animal conflict,” says R Chandana Raju, the Forester is in-charge of the camp, which was established in 1917 by the British. “We use them to drive away wild elephants that stray into human habitation, capture problematic elephants during de-weeding drives in the forest and patrolling,” he says, as the animals trundle into the camp after a long day one rainy afternoon.

Now, these elephants are driven by a sense of purpose. “It is a mahout who either makes or breaks an elephant,” 55-year-old M Kirumaaran tells us. He is responsible for Moorthy, once a formidable animal that caused the death of over 22 people in the region. Moorthy was captured in 1998, and Kirumaaran has been with him for 12 years. Today, he is so gentle that Kirumaaran even lets his grandchildren play with him.

“It took plenty of patience and training,” he says, “Moorthy used to be headstrong in his initial days. If taken to the river for a bath, he would not come out no matter how much I tried. I remember standing with him for two full hours as he lolled in the water,” remembers Kirumaaran. Eventually, Moorthy listened.

Today, several mahouts look up to Kirumaaran and his methods. In elephant operations, he replaced metal chains used to capture elephants, with rope that is gentler on the feet. He has three children, and admits to loving Moorthy more. “I call my son every day to check on Moorthy if I’m away,” he says. “If I see him after a few days’ break, I first offer him a sugarcane; Moorthy accepts it, nods, and grunts softly.”

Risk is part of the job description. Eswaran says Wasim, a star kumki at the camp, has hurt him three times. “He was in musth [heat] then,” he points out. “He wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”