When Pench Stopped Being Just Work
The wilderness does not live only in the mountains. Sometimes, it waits quietly in a forest you never planned to fall in love with, until it finds you.
When I joined Indiahikes as an Experience Coordinator, Pench was all about logistics, coordination, calls, checklists, and conversations. Like many, I had a very fixed idea of trekking. In my mind, “real” trekking belonged to the Himalayas with snow peaks, high passes, and thin air. I was certain that my first trek with Indiahikes would be in the Himalayas. There was no question of anywhere else.
But life has its way of surprising you.
Pournami, Experience Coordinator for the Pench Tiger Trail, coordinating closely with trekkers and the Indiahikes team on the trail.
As I started coordinating treks, Pench Tiger Trail was one of the first I worked with. I remember sitting at my desk in Bengaluru office, listening to Nitesh, the Chief Explorer at Indiahikes, talk about the forest with a confidence that came only from deep familiarity. All the while, Trek Leaders shared stories, observations, and small details that didn’t sound dramatic but stayed with me. And conversations with team members who had already been there added more layers. And every time trekkers returned and shared their photos, something felt different.
I didn’t know when it happened. There was no single moment.
But somewhere along the way, I fell in love with Pench Tiger Trail, without ever having seen it.
Finally, on November 15, 2025, I wasn’t going to the Pench Tiger Trail as an Experience Coordinator. I was going as a trekker. And like another trekker stepping into the lesser-known. It was the same role I had once guided, reassured, and answered questions for over weeks. Now, we were all first-timers, carrying the same excitement, curiosity, and a quiet, unspoken nervousness.
Sakata village felt different.
Time moved more slowly there. Everything felt softer, calmer. It was a whole different world from the one I lived in every day. I saw myself unlearning the need to rush. It was as if Sakata gently told me, “You’re allowed to slow down.”
That feeling stayed with me as we walked into the forest.
I began to notice things I would have otherwise missed: the way light filtered through leaves, the quiet strength of trees, and the stories hidden in the forest floor. Our guides spoke about spiders that built intricate webs and trees with bark that could heal bruises. And I listened with curiosity, and with respect.
I had always believed trekking was about pushing forward. The Pench Tiger Trail taught me it was also about standing still.
Though it wasn’t the trekking I had imagined, it was exactly what I needed. It was quieter. Deeper. Slower. The forest didn’t demand attention; it waited for it. And when you finally paid attention, it gave you more than you expected.
Some silent moments stayed with me.
Like watching the sun slowly disappear into the Nayegaon Lake didn’t feel like an event. Or lying by the lake in the cold, staring at the starry sky, I felt small. With stories of constellations drifting around us, beneath it all was a subtle awareness that the forest was alive, breathing alongside us.
The next day, we walked through the Bawanthadi River. What an experience! Also, fresh pugmarks on the riverbank reminded us we were never alone.
During a silent stretch on the final day, we paused for our orange break. All of a sudden, the monkeys began making a loud noise. Our guides signalled us to stay still. Then came a sound that went straight through me, a tiger’s roar. It was followed by the final cry of a wild boar. For a moment, everything went still. My heart didn’t know what to feel. Fear and awe existed together. The forest allowed us to witness something raw, very real, and unforgettable.
This was the moment when the forest reminded us that it was never just a backdrop.
By the end of the trek, something inside me had shifted. Everything I knew about the Pench Tiger Trail, as an Experience Coordinator, felt incomplete. I didn’t just leave with memories.
I left with a quieter mind, a fuller heart, and a better understanding.
The wilderness doesn’t live only in the mountains.
It lives wherever you are willing to slow down, listen, and feel.
