Some journeys don’t just end when you pack your bags and go home. They linger—in small memories, in sudden flashes of silence, in the way a moment catches your breath even weeks later. My trip to Kaziranga National Park was one of those journeys. What I thought would be a simple wildlife visit slowly unfolded into something far more intimate—an experience that made me feel grounded, humbled, and strangely emotional.
THE ROAD TO KAZIRANGA: A BUILD-UP OF WONDER
The journey began with a long drive on the smooth highway from Guwahati, but the landscapes changed so gently that I barely noticed when the city slipped away. Tea gardens started appearing on both sides—endless rows of emerald green that seemed to breathe with the morning air. Every few kilometres, small villages passed by, children waving, women carrying fresh produce, and bamboo houses glowing softly in the rising sun.
By the time I reached Kohora, one of the main entry points to Kaziranga, the world felt slower—like nature had pressed the pause button just for me.
MORNING MIST & THE FIRST BREATH OF THE FOREST
I woke up before sunrise for my first safari. The air was cold, the kind that gently bites your skin but also fills you with life. As we entered the park, a soft mist lay across the grasslands, turning everything into a moving painting.
The forest felt alive—not loud, not intimidating, but aware. A quiet awareness that made me sit still, breathe softer, and just watch.
And then, as the mist thinned, I saw it—the silhouette of a rhino standing alone, almost motionless.
THAT FIRST ENCOUNTER—A MOMENT I’LL NEVER FORGET
Seeing a one-horned rhino up close is not like seeing an animal. It feels like meeting a presence. Massive, ancient, and incredibly calm. There was a long silent moment where it just stood there, grazing, unbothered by us. And in that moment, something in me softened. It reminded me of how small we are in the grand
landscape of nature; how much beauty still exists quietly without needing to be noticed.
As we drove further, elephants appeared—whole herds moving together with such effortless grace. A mother gently nudged her calf forward with her trunk, and I felt a wave of emotion I wasn’t expecting. There is something about witnessing the tenderness of animals that touches a part of your heart you don’t usually access.
THE JEEP SAFARI: RAW, WILD, AND UNPREDICTABLE
The jeep rattled over the mud tracks, passing through tall elephant grass that towered above us. Sometimes the grass parted, revealing deer frozen mid-step or a water buffalo staring straight at us with quiet authority.
There were stretches where nothing happened—just the sound of the engine and distant bird calls—
and even those moments felt magical. Kaziranga teaches you the beauty of patience. You don’t chase sightings here; you wait for the forest to reveal what it wants to show you.
THE ELEPHANT SAFARI: A DIFFERENT KIND OF MAGIC
If the jeep safari felt adventurous, the elephant safari felt spiritual. Riding through the grasslands at sunrise, with the rhythmic sway of the elephant beneath me, felt like entering a dream. Dewdrops clung to the grass, glowing like tiny stars. Birds flew low across the fields. The forest breathed in gentle layers of sound.
And then—almost unreal—a rhino and her calf emerged from behind the grass. So close, so vulnerable, yet so powerful.
For a moment, the world felt suspended. No noise, no thoughts. Just us, the elephants, the rhinos, and the rising sun painting everything in gold. It was one of the most magnificent moments of my life—one that almost brought tears to my eyes. I don’t know if it was the beauty of the scene or the purity of it, but something shifted inside me.
AFTERNOON IN THE COUNTRYSIDE: LIFE AROUND THE PARK
Kaziranga isn’t just the forest; it’s the life around it. In the afternoon, I visited nearby villages where bamboo houses sat beside ponds shimmering in the light. The locals were warm, smiling easily, offering stories of the forest, floods, and festivals. I tasted freshly cooked fish tenga, fiery chutneys, and rice served with the comfort of home.
Walking through a tea garden during golden hour felt like stepping into a postcard—the light soft, the silence deep, and the smell of fresh leaves soothing in a way no city air can imitate.
THE EVENING SAFARI & THE CALL OF THE WILD
My final safari was in the evening, when the sun dipped low and turned the entire grassland amber. Birds returned to nests, deer gathered in small herds, and somewhere in the distance, the forest filled with sounds you only hear when the day ends. I sat quietly for a long time, just absorbing it—the beauty, the vastness, the feeling of being a tiny part of something infinite.
A JOURNEY THAT BECAME A MEMORY
Leaving Kaziranga felt like leaving a place that had shown me something precious. A world where wildlife still thrives freely. A world where silence heals you. A world that reminds you how to slow down and feel again. Even now, when I think back, I don’t just remember the rhinos or the sunsets—I remember the feeling.
A calmness.
A gratitude.
A sense of returning to something natural and pure.
Kaziranga wasn’t just a trip, it was a reminder— that the world is still beautiful, still wild, and still capable of taking your breath away.