In late May, two wild elephants entered the buffer zone of Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve in Maharashtra’s Chandrapur district, known for its dense tiger population. The arrival of wild elephants, which have not roamed this region in years, is more than just a rare sighting. It signals an ecological turning point.
The elephants, tracked from Gadchiroli district across the forested belt into Tadoba’s fringes, moved calmly but deliberately. Local forest staff deployed night patrols and drones to track their movement, and alerted nearby communities. Although no major human-elephant confrontation occurred, fear rippled through villages that were unaccustomed to these giants.
This was the second such sighting in less than two years — in October 2023, a wild elephant crossed the Wainganga river from Gadchiroli and entered the Bramhapuri forest division of Chandrapur, but died from electrocution in the Sindewahi range. This was reportedly Maharashtra’s first such incident in over 100 years. Both incidents underscore that elephants are expanding their range, and Chandrapur is at the frontier of this shift.
This particular region is already one of the most complex and conflict-prone human-wildlife landscapes in India. According to the National Tiger Conservation Authority’s Status of Tigers, Co-predators and prey in India report 2022 report, Chandrapur district’s protected and territorial forest divisions support over 250 tigers — among the highest in the country. This in turn leads to more incidences of human-tiger conflict.
According to data with the Maharashtra forest department, over the past few years villages in Tadoba and in the neighbouring territorial forest divisions have seen over 300 tiger attacks on people, with the wild cats increasingly expanding their territories to agricultural lands and village peripheries. The frequent attacks on people have led to simmering resentment, even among communities that have long seen the tiger as part of their lives and culture in the form of the Waghoba deity.
Against this backdrop, the arrival of elephants raises a complex and urgent question: Can a landscape already grappling with negative human-wildlife interactions now accommodate a new megafaunal species?
Unlike tigers, which are territorial and generally avoid humans, elephants are social, wide-ranging and can alter entire landscapes in a few days. Their movement is not confined to predictable corridors; it depends on food availability, water sources and memory of safe passage. This unpredictability, combined with their size and group dynamics, makes them harder to monitor and manage. The scale and kind of damage they cause (often unintentionally) by trampling crops, breaching fences and destroying infrastructure, are of a different magnitude.
Coexistence will, therefore, require a new strategy, with spatial planning that accommodates wide-ranging movement, real-time conflict prevention protocols, elephant-specific response units and community involvement before conflict escalates. There is precedent to draw upon. In Tamil Nadu, Odisha and Kerala, where elephant-human interactions are more common, have developed early warning systems, watch towers and compensation protocols tailored to elephant behaviour. Maharashtra must learn quickly and perhaps design better.
One other challenge that Chandrapur faces is that in many villages, people are used to having largely free access to forests—children walk to school through forest paths, farmers build and sleep in machans to protect their fields from wild pigs or other herbivores, and entire communities collect fuelwood and non-timber forest produce. When elephants enter such zones, the lack of a cultural or historical familiarity increases fear, and in turn reactionary decisions, even if the mammals do not directly cause harm.
The elephants have moved on from Chandrapur, for now. But their brief presence has raised essential questions about preparedness, policy, and coexistence in a region under ecological strain. The next movement may come sooner than we expect and Chandrapur must be ready.
Ashraf Shaikh is a conservation biologist working with the Melghat Tiger Reserve. This column was first published as part of the story Deadly trail in the July 1-15, 2025 print edition of Down To Earth.