Aren’t you glad that the tribal communities of central India probably never read British Raj stories about a man-eating tiger stripping a dainty memsahib from his tent, his satin robes sliding, blood glistening on the cat’s arched whiskers. The wildcat’s amber eyes burn with bloodlust. When William Blake feverishly pondered The Tyger: “What immortal hand or eye, Dare to frame thy terrible symmetry?”

The British Raj wove ingenious narratives adorned with poetic flourishes and lovely prose to justify the extermination of any creature – be it a cobra or a cheetah – that posed a threat to the conquest of India and the exploitation of the infamous Aladdin’s cave of natural wealth.

But here, to borrow selectively from Kipling, there is an alternative truth: “Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet”. In the forested heartland of India, among the Gonds, Govaris, Baigas and other indigenous communities, the tiger “was and is” duly recognized as a powerful predator. But not only this, the stripes “were held” as sacred. The tiger was a creature worshiped as the Waghoba god: the tribes believed that the spirits of their ancestors resided in the tiger. It was also invoked as a guardian of their crops against foraging deer/boar – a balancer of herbivore numbers and sent to the tribes’ relief by Mother Nature herself.

India is blessed to have a young breed of conservationists venturing into these hearts, where the spirit of the nation truly resides. Ashraf Shaikh of the National Center for Biological Sciences, Bengaluru, is engaged in researching the folk traditions that anchor the Waghoba.

“Waghoba worship embodies a dual relationship with tigers, who are both revered as divine guardians and feared as potential threats. Shrines dedicated to Waghoba often mark sites of tiger attacks, serving as memorials and symbols of protection. The Govari community’s belief in Waghin, a female counterpart to Waghoba, highlights this bond, with shrines commemorating women lost in tiger attacks The Waghin shrines associate the offerings with women like a saree or a mangalsutra, these rituals help communities process grief and build resilience,” Shaikh told this writer.

In Tapal, prayers to curb tiger attacks are said to have led to the miraculous appearance of a shrine, while the death of a Gond leader by a tiger in Tadoba inspired a memorial shrine. Such stories underscore the tiger’s central role in the community’s spiritual identity as a deity and a reminder of human vulnerability.

“This cultural reverence also promotes conservation. For the Gonds and other communities, the tiger is a ‘kuladevta’ (clan god), and protecting it is seen as a moral obligation. Similar traditions exist among tribes such as the Baigas of Chhattisgarh and the Nyishis of Arunachal Pradesh, as well as in Southeast Asia, where tiger worship reflects respect for the balance of nature,” added Shaikh.

However strong and embedded these useful cultural beliefs may be for tiger conservation, the increasing penetration of tiger habitats by humans has put traditions under stress. “In regions like Brahmapuri, where nearly 300 people have been attacked by tigers in the past decade, growing conflict is straining the cultural bonds that encourage coexistence. While some question the efficacy of rituals, others continue to honor the dead and the tigers through the Waghoba shrines, and preserves a link between tradition and resilience, says Shaikh.

What then is a futuristic vision? “The Waghoba cult offers valuable lessons in coexistence by channeling fear into structured rituals. When combined with modern conservation strategies – such as tiger behavior awareness, security measures and community-driven wildlife conservation planning – these practices can help mitigate conflict and promote tolerance against big cats, says Shaikh.

By honoring cultural traditions while adopting modern solutions, these communities can chart a path toward a future where both humans and tigers thrive.