Budhesar Bora is a diminutive man packed in a wiry frame, his eyes sparkle and a smile breaks his serious countenance ever so often, dimpling his cheeks. He could have been a business acquaintance seated in a posh hotel. But he isn't and we aren't in one. Instead I am perched on a fallen log in Tanganmara, in the eastern range of Manas Tiger Reserve, amidst elephant dung deposited minutes before by a tusker. Two-years-back I couldn't have ventured in these badlands. This was a base of Bodo agitation. Outsiders were 'discouraged' by the barrel of a gun, and those who dared often paid with their life.

Peace reigned after a new settlement was signed for the creation of Bodoland February 10, 2003. The Bodos agreed to give up their violent ways. I am the first journalist - indeed the first outsider - to have entered this region and it feels strange, chatting with a hardened ex-poacher now preaching the value of conservation. I imagine, the elephant that sauntered by earlier wouldn't have had a safe passage, either. One shot from the gaazimara, the Bodo name for the locally produced gun, and the mighty giant would have toppled, the tusks chopped off and sold across the border in Bhutan for Rs 3,300 per kilogram.

Killing the elephant was routine in Budhesar's work. He admits to slaughtering eighty. He shot and skinned two tigers, of deer he has lost count. The prize bag though was Kurusu, the Greater One-horned Rhinoceros. The poachers would go in a group, about a dozen of them, tracking the animal in the forest. It took them days to find, and kill, one. The rampant massacre had put an end to the season of plenty. For the horn Budhesar usually netted Rs 1.7 lakhs. When it reaches the ultimate customer, the price multiplies manifold thanks to the misguided notion that the matted hair that makes the horn serves as a magic elixir for impotency. Joysaran, another former poacher, takes me to the Khwisifurhri waterhole. He had been party to a rhino hunt - perhaps the last of them - a few years back.

The killing was indiscriminate, voluminous. With lawlessness ruling, other unsavoury elements had joined the fray. There was no law in the land and the three chowkis of the forest department had been razed to the ground and some of their guards killed.

The forest became a killing field.

It is widely accepted that money from the wildlife trade helped finance the Bodo revolution, even if in a small way. The Bodos disagree, and wisely refrain from talking about it. It's a finished chapter.

Here in Tanganmara, in the heart of Manas, their commitment to preserve the park is evident. Once they lusted for money and blood, today they fiercly protect in the most difficult conditions Manas' wildlife. Under the aegis of Maozogendri Eastern Manas Eco-Tourism Society, they work towards conserving Manas and promoting it as a tourist destination for an alternate income.

In the two years since they started, the society has done a commendable job. Mahendra Basumatary, the secretary of the society, says 27 Bodos patrol the park around the clock for a daily wage of Rs 50. A pittance, really, but the motivation lies in a fierce pride that they have developed for the park. "We never realised the gift of Manas, we thought it was a just a jungle. No other forest in India is a World Heritage Site, a Biosphere hotspot, a Tiger Reserve and a National Park. And its here, in our land.

We cannot let the carnage continue. Manas must be saved," resolves Mahendra.

This determination has worked wonders. The 'guards' have seized over 40 guns and Budhesar stationed at his rickety watchtower in Tanganmara nabbed seven men, armed with sophisticated weapons and deadly intent just this month. Besides, the society is also introducing park management methods and rebuilding infrastructure.

They have started grassland management, and have burnt tracts of old grass before the monsoon so that the fresh showers will allow the new shoots to grow. This is a vital as new grasses attract herbivores and with a healthy deer population, carnivores like tigers will flourish. The road that took us into the forest is the fruit of their labour. "There have been no roads here since 16 years. We built about 40 Kms. No one, even the forest department, could enter the park. Now the road can be used to patrol, and soon we hope that tourists will arrive."

A small tourist lodge has been set up. I stayed there for the night, and the memory will endure forever. I tasted local fare, skirting the pig slaughtered in my honour. I listened in fascination to Partha Das, of HELP Tourism, which is lending marketing and other support to this venture. His grandfather had served as a forester in Manas, and he remembers watching rhinos and the tiger that came calling at his guesthouse. He wants the glory of Manas to be restored. That night Bodo women, dressed in hand-woven dokhnas, performed the fire dance climaxing with swallowing the flames. Throughout the dance, fire is used as a metaphor for anger and it's destructive prowess. In the end the anger, or fire, is quelled. To me, the dance takes on a special intent, as a metaphor that the bitter battle against Manas and its denizens has finally met its end.

Yes, agrees Mahendra, blood will not redden the Manas River anymore, unless it is in defence of her denizens.

Manas' Green Army

If the Bodos conservation initiative is unique and commendable, then the perseverance and the sheer courage of the forest department in protecting Manas in bleak conditions deserves a story.

As seen earlier, for nearly two decades Manas has been under siege. Bodos took shelter in forests and their agitation was violent. The forest staff were not trained for guerilla warfare, nor could they use the kinds of automatic weapons, mines and explosives being used against them. Taking advantage of the unrest, professional poachers too moved in. Many forest gaurds lost their lives and morale among the was at its lowest. Animals were slaughtered indiscriminately, so were the people. Infrastructure was destroyed, trees were cut and grasslands flattened. Ritesh Bhattacharjee, deputy director of the park says that in the last six years, eleven of their men have been killed. He took me to Uchila, a shattered skeleton of a former forest chowki. It had been razed to the ground, only the charred and stunted walls remained. Guards were slaughtered and the department elephants shot to death. That was February 1989. On the same morning, all the anti-poaching camps within the park were attacked.

I talked to Babulal Oraon, a forest guard who accompanied us. His commitment to the forest has grown over the years. In the initial years, the jungle scared him and he ran away from his job. "I was dragged back forcefully," he laughs. Gradually, he grew to love the stillness of the forest and the animals he had feared. The sanctuary became his turf, to be defended at all costs. "Militants killed everything in this park. They finished off the rhinos, and most of the tuskers. It's a year since I saw tuskers," he rued. The militants were well-armed and flushed with money, the guards had rustic, non-functional guns. Still, they fought back. Babulal's battle is particularly laudatory. In his career he has had over a hundred encounters and killed 32 poachers. He has been wounded often himself, and narrowly escaped death. For years, he faced a death threat and remembers gratefully the unknown face who risked his life to save his. In recognition of his services, Babulal has been awarded by former Prime Minister, the late Mrs Indira Gandhi.

Now, both him and the ex-poachers share the same goal. They are odd working partners, ex-poachers and foresters, militants and the green army; bond together for the love of Manas. All working together to save this unique forest.

Such efforts are showing results. The Uchela chowki is being rebuilt, the rest will follow. On our way back, I encounter a huge herd of elephants and grazing along with them are gaurs and wild buffaloes. It is a heartening sight, indicating that Manas is on the mend.

The best news of all is that the rhino has made a comeback. The rare one-horned rhinoceros is believed to be extinct in Manas, with no sighting or sign since fifteen years. Manas can welcome rhinos now. There are reports of sightings in Guruchara area in the northeastern side of the park recently. Rhino spoor has also been found at Kokilabari range. Officials however are cautious of divulging too many details, fearing an attack by poachers.

The healing process, however, has its share of problems. One of the most serious being paucity of funds. Funds sanctioned by the central government scheme rarely reach the park. Under Project Tiger, Manas was sanctioned 1.79 crores in 2003-2004, but received only 39 lakhs, that too only by the end of the year. "Which meant that much of the park management work, like road building, grassland management could not be done on time," points out Bhattacharjee. They got an additional eleven lakhs in the same year.

The story repeats itself this year. In addition to the previous year's balance, the park got Rs 1.4 crores from the centre. Not a cent from this has been released by the state exchequer to the government. With funds blocked, the park and its protectors suffer. Some of the 67 daily wagers have not received their salary for thirteen months, fuel for anti-poaching vehicles falls short, vehicles lie defunct, guards are poorly equipped and work on grassland management is delayed. Of the 450 sanctioned posts at field level, 130 posts lie vacant. Eight officers have been designated for Manas, but half of the posts have yet to be filled.

It is a shame that a tiger reserve with atleast 20 globally threatened species has to stand at the door of the government with a begging bowl for its funds.

Unless the state gives it the support, the new dawn at Manas will set before its time.