RATI KARWAL SELF-PARTNERED AND THRIVING By Mihir Srivastava

Rati Karwal, 56, is a single mother of a daughter and a son.  She was 30 years of age when she walked out of a marriage—sowed the seed of a new life. She was committed to lead a life of her choice, rather to live a truncated existence—if she survives—for some false sense of normative security. She had to fend for herself and her family. It was not easy. She took some unconventional decisions. And did very well.

A disastrous marriage was a blessing in disguise. Not just because it gave her two lovely kids—Stuti Naina and Sanchit—who have since ripened into independent individuals. The disastrousness of the marriage in a hard way, but nevertheless, made her appreciate life better, with all its nuances. She’s an optimist.  

As the popular saying goes ‘What does not kill me makes me stronger (German: Was mich nicht umbringt, macht mich stärker) by Friedrich Nietzsche—has become a bit of a cliché. In Rati’s case, she did not just become stronger but also wiser, and most importantly, not bitter. She prefers indifference to hatred, for hatred is giving too much credence to a bad thing, and, in the process, imbibing that energy in some measure. If you’re able to forget then you don’t even have to remember to forgive.

Nature, in all its seraphic magnificence, healed her. Rati says in her charming way, twisting her lips, ‘I never felt alone (apart from when she was with her erstwhile husband). I’m complete in my own self.’  That’s a panacea.

Her parents—Dr Ranbir Singh Madan and Dr Radha Madan—have been a source of strength to her, came to her aid, and gave her the necessary support before she was in a position to support her family, which didn’t take long. The fact that she loves to cook, and love to feed people—with love being the key ingredient; the hospitality industry was the obvious choice for her. She preferred a niche area: wildlife hospitality. She was fortunate to have found mentors at critical junctures of her life who have become an extension of her family. “I couldn’t have done without my parents, Dhruv Singh and Lakshmi Masi; S K Garg uncle and Bina Garg Aunty and many more,” she adds.

Rati in the years to come managed premier wildlife resorts—Jim’s Jungle Retreat-Corbett, Samode Safari Lodge-Bandhavgarh, Forsyth Safari Lodge-Satpura, Taj Safari Lodge-Pench—and has a reputation of enhancing operational efficiency, driving growth by augmenting guest satisfaction. She delivers to her guests a memorable experience and they never seem to forget her.  I’m a witness to it. I met her first ten years ago when she was leading the operations at Jim’s Jungle Retreat. We have been friends since without keeping in touch. Presently, she has left a formal job, and does consultancy work. Most recently, she did 'consultancy and cuisine work' for the Naga Kutir—Escape with Dhruv at the Maha Kumbh in Prayag Raj.

To be able to do her job, Rati had to live in forests. For instance, the Jim’s Jungle Retreat is surrounded by woods infested with animals, and a stony river bed lined one side of the property.  She led a team of three dozen men, her job extended 24x7, all days of the year, for many years. She lived in a cottage at the furthest end of the property overlooking the forest as far as eyes could see, a blue clear sky above, in the night stars glittered brightly. 

 

“I love my space, my solitude, my company, and am never lonely,” says Rati who's fearless in a charming way. ‘Dar nahin lagata mughe (I don’t get scared)” she declares. She loves life and life loves her back.

As per the conventional wisdom a woman living alone in a jungle is inviting trouble, perhaps bigger than the one she quit to be here. To the contrary, she asserts, ‘it was the safest place for me.’ Animals are predictable, and so are the people who live in the bosom of nature. She lived there for years without having to experience the vulnerability that the women deal with in the cities. She presided over men, and got the work done, and can be a hard taskmaster. “I work better with men,” she says and adds, ‘they are not into triyacharitra’ (a Hindi colloquial word that’s difficult to translate, but is indicative of a gossipy judgemental analysis of one’s character based on insufficient, and at times misleading, information.)

The ways of nature healed her. In the wild, hardly anything is wild. Animals do things for a reason, they are predictable and not egomaniacal, they follow their instincts and do what they are known to do and contribute to maintaining the larger ecological balance. Balance in life and all its endeavours is key to leading a fulfilling life.

“I love my space, my solitude, my company, and am never lonely,” she says. And she keeps herself busy, knitting, crocheting, reading, drawing, learning languages—Urdu these days, she did her master’s in business administration in this fun way.  She’s equally unequivocal about her persona, “I am a sensual person.” I agree with her. Sensuality may stem from the fact that she feels complete in herself. It’s a powerful emotion. Her aura has a sensual glow to it. Perhaps it explains why she flourished in settings where many wouldn’t even dare stepping in.

Rati is fearless in a charming way. ‘Dar nahin lagata mughe (I don’t get scared)” she declares. She learned to walk in the dark. It's about harbouring a certain energy, cumulative of all sentiments and experiences—how one is wired. Animals respond to energies, it determines their response, for they don’t harm any other denizens for some sadistic pleasure. They avoid humans if not confronted or cornered. They have always been nice to Rati.

They live in the present moment, a good example in an antelope, if it survives a chase by a tiger or a leopard, soon is seen grazing with the herd, its small tail fluttering in the air, as if nothing happened, for traumatic experiences just escapes their memory. The best way to deal with trauma is to live in the present moment like them forgetting the past. Rati has dealt with many crises in her life in this fashion.

Rati with her parents and children.

When you are good, good things happen around you. At the time of her divorce, Stuti Naina and Sanchit—a year apart in age—were shifted to a boarding school. Rati made sure they grow up together, so were admitted to a co-educational residential school. They did well in studies and shaped into admirable yet distinct individuals who respect others’ individuality, and got into their chosen spheres of work without much hassle. Stuti Naina is a lawyer; Sanchit looks after tech-driven aspects of the hospitality industry.

I haven’t interacted much with Stuti Naina but know Sanchit fairly well, and he says his sister is “the most interesting of us three”. That’s a significant statement in the praise of his sister. Sanchit is an accomplished photographer, would often go out in the forest, even after the sundown, to click the starry nights. And now, when both of them are entering their thirties, Rati is more of a buddy than mother. She understands them, and gives them space. The shadow of her love empowers them to be a master of their destiny.  

They all have their separate homes, so a bit scattered as a family ‘We talk perhaps once a week or ten days,’ says Rati.  And when they meet, usually over weekends, it's party time. And when kids leave, they pack some food with them. They carry their mother’s love with them in tiffin boxes.