India’s tigers are both a source of national pride and a focal point of ongoing conservation challenges, as recent events from Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, and Karnataka have dramatically illustrated. The fate of these big cats, whether through tragic deaths, controversial releases, or high-tech monitoring efforts, reveals the complex intersection of wildlife protection, human safety, and ecological stewardship across the subcontinent.
On or before August 18, 2025, a troubling incident in Madhya Pradesh’s Balaghat district brought the issue of tiger mortality and accountability into sharp relief. According to The Indian Express, a forest guard, a forest ranger assistant, and six additional forest staff members were arrested after allegedly burning the carcass of a tiger in the Lalbarra range. The group is accused of trying to hide the animal’s death, bypassing established protocols that require immediate reporting and forensic investigation of any tiger carcass. The discovery of the burnt remains was only made after a senior Indian Foreign Service officer received photographs of the carcass, prompting an official inquiry.
Why is the reporting and forensic examination of a tiger carcass so crucial? As J S Chauhan, former principal chief conservator of forests (wildlife) for Madhya Pradesh, explained to The Indian Express, "It’s vital to inform the senior officials so that a forensic examination is conducted to see if it was a case of poaching. If the cause of death is found to be unnatural, it is treated as a case of poaching, especially when the carcass is of a protected animal such as a tiger." This process not only helps authorities determine whether poaching, disease, or territorial conflict was the cause of death, but also enables them to take swift action to prevent further losses—whether by curbing criminal activity or containing outbreaks among the tiger population.
The National Tiger Conservation Authority (NTCA) has laid out meticulous guidelines for such investigations. After a carcass is discovered, responsibility falls to the divisional forest officer and their team to secure the area, document the scene with photographs and videos, and collect evidence ranging from blood and tissue samples to forensic traces like gunpowder, paint chips, or footprints. The postmortem itself, as Chauhan noted, should ideally be conducted at the site in daylight, with representatives from the NTCA, the chief wildlife warden, and a local NGO present for transparency. Only after a thorough investigation and sample collection is the carcass incinerated under official supervision, with every step documented and a formal memo—known as a panchnama—signed by those present. If any body parts are seized as evidence, they are retained until the completion of legal proceedings.
Such rigor is not just bureaucratic red tape—it’s a frontline defense against the illegal wildlife trade, which continues to threaten India’s tigers. But the challenges facing these majestic animals are not limited to poaching. In Karnataka, the state’s famed tiger reserves have faced a grim toll. According to The Times of India and Hindustan Times, between April 2020 and August 19, 2025, Karnataka recorded 75 tiger deaths. While the majority—62—were attributed to natural causes such as aging, disease, and territorial disputes, a significant 13 were the result of human-induced threats.
The details are sobering. Nagarahole Tiger Reserve saw 26 deaths, Bandipur 22, Biligiri Ranganatha Temple (BRT) Tiger Reserve 8, and Male Mahadeshwara (MM) Hills 5. Among the unnatural deaths, six tigers were poisoned—five of them in MM Hills earlier in 2025, in retaliation for livestock losses. Two tigers died in illegal snares, one was electrocuted, one was shot, two were poached by unspecified means, and one young male was killed in a road accident near Mysuru. Legal cases have been filed under the Wildlife Protection Act, 1972, but the incidents have triggered alarm among conservationists and the public alike.
To combat these threats, Karnataka’s forest department has embraced technology. A real-time tracking platform called Hejje (meaning "footprint" in Kannada) monitors the movements of radio-collared tigers, allowing for rapid response to conflicts or emergencies. AI-powered camera traps and drone surveillance are being deployed to improve monitoring, especially in dense forests where human access is limited. On the ecological side, efforts are underway to clear invasive weeds like lantana and eupatorium, which choke out native grasses and reduce prey availability for tigers. Additionally, early warning systems are being tested in villages bordering tiger habitats, delivering alerts via mobile messages or loudspeakers when tigers are nearby, aiming to reduce panic and prevent retaliatory attacks.
Meanwhile, in Rajasthan, a different kind of tiger story has unfolded. On August 15, 2025, Kankati, a tigress from Ranthambore with a complicated past, was "hard released" into the 82 square kilometer Mukundra Hills Tiger Reserve after nearly two months in an enclosure. According to The Times of India, Kankati’s release was a calculated move by forest authorities. She had previously been linked to two human fatalities and, along with her brother, had struggled to develop hunting skills due to their mother Arrowhead’s health issues. The use of baits by forest officials, intended to teach the cubs to hunt, inadvertently made them more familiar with humans—raising the risk of future conflict.
The release site in Mukundra was carefully chosen for its lack of villages, reducing the immediate risk of human-tiger encounters. Still, anxiety among nearby communities remains high, especially as many villagers graze cattle illegally in bordering forests. In response, the forest department has issued stern advisories to local leaders, warning against entering the reserve or approaching water sources and making it clear that compensation will not be provided for wildlife attacks resulting from illegal entry.
Looking ahead, forest officials plan to bring in a male tiger from Ranthambore within three months, pending NTCA approval, and to introduce two more tigers from Madhya Pradesh. The hope is to establish a self-sustaining breeding population in Mukundra, ensuring the long-term survival of the species in the region.
Across India, the fate of tigers is a microcosm of the broader struggle to balance conservation with human needs and safety. Whether through rigorous forensic protocols, technological innovation, or sensitive reintroduction efforts, the country’s approach is evolving—but the stakes remain as high as ever.
As these stories show, the future of India’s tigers depends not just on laws and science, but on the vigilance, honesty, and cooperation of everyone involved—from forest guards and villagers to policymakers and conservationists.
