Guardians of the Wild

"You may not hear them, but they walk among us — silent, vigilant, unyielding"

In the dense jungles of West Bengal, from the swampy mangroves of the Sundarban to the forested slopes of Buxa, Gorumara and Jaldapara, a quiet war rages. It is not marked by gunfire or explosions, but by stealth, strategy, and sacrifice. The most risk taking warriors—forest frontline forces, informants, Police and community members—remain largely invisible to the rest of us. They are the Guardians of the Wild, facing off against one of the most lucrative and insidious crimes of our time—wildlife trafficking.

While much of the world sleeps, these protectors are on the move. Their fight isn't just against individual poachers, but against a sprawling network of greed that extends from jungle trails to international runways. In this frontline of conservation, the Wildlife Wing of the West Bengal Forest Department is scripting a new narrative — one of grit, resilience, and hope.

West Bengal: A Living Ark of Biodiversity

To understand why this battle matters, one must first grasp what’s at stake. West Bengal isn’t just a state, ecologically, it’s a miniature continent. Within its borders lie the icy Himalayan slopes, lush Terai grasslands, tropical forests, estuarine wetlands, and the world-famous Sundarban delta.

This environmental mosaic is home to some of India’s most iconic and endangered species: the majestic Royal Bengal Tiger; the gentle giant — Asian Elephant; the armor-plated Indian Rhino; the elusive Snow Leopard; the red-furred charmers — Red Pandas; rare river terrapins (Battagur Baska) and critically endangered vultures, among others. But such richness invites danger. The state’s borders touch Bhutan, Nepal and Bangladesh, and are in proximity to Myanmar — a logistical goldmine for international smuggling syndicates.

Kolkata & Siliguri: Wildlife Trade’s Hidden Gateways

While Kolkata dazzles with its culture and Siliguri hums as a commercial hub, beneath the surface lies a darker reality. These cities have inadvertently become hotbeds for wildlife crime. Smugglers leverage their robust air, rail, and road networks to transport everything from pangolins to parakeets. Leopard skins are rolled into carpets, rhino horns are hidden in vehicle compartments, and exotic birds are crammed into suitcases. Wildlife doesn’t just disappear into the forests — it often vanishes through these cities, en route to global black markets.

Operation Intelligence: The Crackdowns Begin

Confronting such organized crime requires more than boots on the ground—it demands sharp minds, collaborative intelligence, and surgical precision. That’s exactly what the Forest Department, in tandem with national and international enforcement agencies, has brought to the table.

In one landmark case, the Jaldapara Wildlife Division tracked an inter-state trafficking network smuggling wildlife articles from Myanmar to India. Using mobile tower triangulation and railway PNR analysis, officers intercepted the smugglers mid-route. On October 21, 2024, the culprits were convicted under the Wildlife Protection Act. A speedy trial—just in eight months—led to five years’ rigorous imprisonment and a fine. "Justice delayed is extinction accelerated," said one officer. And indeed, in the forest, timeliness can mean the difference between a saved species and a silent one.

The Leopard Skin Syndicate: Vanity’s Bloody Trail

In Alipurduar, near the Bhutan border, another horrifying operation came to light. A courier, using public transport, was intercepted carrying leopard skins—destined for international fashion circuits where exotic pets are still shamefully prized. The accused, a former militant with prior narcotics cases, was convicted in February 2025, sentenced to six years of rigorous imprisonment and fined Rs 40,000. Half the fine was awarded to the forest team. “Every leopard skin we save is a life not lost to vanity,” said an officer, eyes welling with emotion. It’s not just about enforcement; it’s about restoring dignity to the wild.

Laken Basumatari: The Sharpshooter Who Hunted Giants

For years, whispers of a ghost haunted the jungles—a sharpshooter named Laken Basumatari, responsible for the deaths of over 125 rhinos across Jaldapara, Gorumara, and even Assam’s Kaziranga. His method was swift, his disappearance swifter. But the forest never forgets. In a joint operation after nearly a decade of tracking, Laken was finally arrested. "He was the ghost of our forests, killing silently. But ghosts don’t haunt forever — we caught him," said the ranger who pursued him for years. His capture is more than justice — it’s a message to poachers everywhere: the jungle has its own law, and it will prevail.

The “Pushpa” of North Bengal: Smuggling Sandalwood in Crores

If animals are being hunted, trees are not spared either. In a real-life tale straight out of a Bollywood script, officials busted a Rs 100 crore sandalwood smuggling ring in the Duars. Using bizarre tactics like hiding logs under fish containers and soil, the smugglers operated a network that stretched from South India to Bhutan. The racket had Hawala links and even foreign nationals were involved.

"This is not just tree theft; it’s economic terrorism," said an officer. Two smugglers were sentenced in February 2025 to three years in prison, with coordinated legal actions across Kerala, Odisha, and Alipurduar.

The Phantom Falls: Arrest of Rikoch Narjari

Another formidable criminal, Rikoch Narjari—alias Deid Guite—was among the northeast’s most feared poachers. Linked to multiple rhino killings and transnational smuggling cartels, his capture was a breakthrough. Achieved through cross-border cooperation between West Bengal and Assam, his arrest lifted a decade-long cloud over the forests. “With his arrest, a shadow lifted,” said a senior officer. Sometimes, the jungle’s sigh of relief is the loudest sound of victory.

The Feet on the Forest Floor: Unsung Heroes of Conservation

Behind every major arrest are those who often go unmentioned—the forest frontline forces like guards, beat officers, the rangers who trek alone in wildlife territory, the tribal youth who turn informants, and the women who form JFMCs (Joint Forest Management Committees) in forest fringe villages. These individuals are the heart and soul of protection. They live close to danger yet remain fiercely committed. Local Panchayats and police forces also play critical roles, acting swiftly on intelligence and supporting operations. “They have no medals, but they bleed for every tree, every wildlife” said a forest officer, voice quivering with pride.

The Legal Backbone: Laws That Bite Back

West Bengal’s successes in wildlife crime prevention aren’t accidental — they are anchored in strong legal frameworks and unwavering judicial support. Under the Wildlife Protection Act, 1972, key reforms and practices have transformed outcomes: Charge-sheets filed within two months; Custody trials permitted for severe crimes and Witnesses protected and encouraged to testify quickly. Thanks to Section 60A, 50 per cent of fines collected go directly to the enforcement teams—an innovative step that incentivizes protection and funds future operations.

What You Can Do: From Indifference to Involvement

Wildlife crime isn’t just the government’s problem. It’s every individual citizen’s duty as per the constitutional mandate—Article 51A (g). Every time someone buys an exotic bird as a pet, dons an accessory made of ivory or tortoiseshell, or posts a selfie with a chained wild animal—they become silent accomplices to this destruction.

Here’s how each of us can help:

• Report suspicious wildlife activity via helplines and apps;

• Never purchase products made from wildlife;

• Support ethical eco-tourism and conservation effort;

• Raise awareness about biodiversity in schools and communities.

“The jungle may seem distant, but its future rests in our hands”.

The Silent Roar: A Pledge for the Future

In West Bengal, a revolution in wildlife protection is underway—quiet yet powerful. Forest officials, local communities, judicial systems, and policymakers are together forging a new path. Each arrest, each conviction, and each life saved is a declaration that the wild matters. “The forests are speaking and we are listening.” Let this not be a passing story in the annals of conservation. Let it be a living legacy—a collective pledge for the future.

The writer is Chief Conservator of Forests, Government of West Bengal. Views expressed are personal