After an unforgettable time in Samburu and Lake Naivasha, it was time to head to the crown jewel of Kenya’s wilderness—Maasai Mara. The drive from Naivasha was smooth, the scenery rolling and expansive. Somewhere along the highway, I was treated to a scene straight out of a nature documentary: giraffes casually crossing the road while long-haul trucks bound for Uganda came to a respectful stop. That moment said everything—Kenya, like India, is a land where humans and animals have coexisted for centuries. The roads might belong to us, but the land? It belongs to all.
An Influencer Moment… That Was Real
I arrived at my lodge in the Nashulai Maasai Conservancy, adjacent to the Mara Reserve. As I was being briefed, someone mentioned that wildlife often roams the property—zebras, giraffes, antelopes, the works. I smiled politely, silently filing it away under “influencer exaggeration.”
But as I walked into my tent, I stopped in my tracks. Two zebras were grazing calmly right outside. Unbothered by my presence. Completely at home. Apparently, those influencer videos were real after all.
Into the Mara
Post-lunch, I was itching to head into the Mara Game Reserve, but Denis—my guide and voice of reason—suggested we wait till 3:00 PM for better sightings. By 2:30, I was already in the vehicle.
As soon as we entered the park, the Mara began to unfold its magic.
First, a lone elephant stood tall in the golden grass.
“In India, elephants are considered lucky,” I told Denis.
He smiled, “Then Mara is welcoming you.”
Next came herds of zebras, followed by wildebeest, impalas, and Thomson’s gazelles grazing together in peaceful coexistence. The giraffes soon followed—towering, gentle silhouettes against the sky. One of them turned ever so slightly, as if offering a perfect pose. I took the shot.
The Leopard in the Tree
Suddenly, the radio crackled with excitement. Denis stepped on the gas. We arrived at a clearing where at least 20 vehicles had gathered under a single tree. Up in its branches, a leopard, perfectly camouflaged, draped across the limbs with feline grace. Through the binoculars, I spotted its kill—an impala—tucked carefully into a crook of the tree.
And then, as if aware of all the attention, the leopard shifted. Slowly, dramatically, from one branch to another. And then descended—regal, deliberate, unhurried—before disappearing into the grass. A moment I will never forget.
More Elephants, Lion Cubs, and a Buffalo Parade
We continued, only to find a larger herd of elephants, slowly making their way to a lone tree. One stopped to scratch its back, reminding me once again how relatable elephants are—gentle giants with very human gestures.
Further along, two vehicles stood near a bush, cameras poised. We slowed down and waited. Soon, three lionesses emerged, followed by a tumble of cubs, rolling and pouncing on each other in playful chaos. For a few minutes, we all watched in reverent silence. But as more tourists gathered, the lions melted back into the bush.
As we turned to leave the park, thinking the day couldn’t offer more, a herd of Cape Buffaloes made their appearance—one of Africa’s Big Five. We waited as they crossed the road, closing the day with quiet power.
A Day of Living Documentaries
You can watch all the wildlife documentaries in the world, but nothing prepares you for the real thing—for the silence before a leopard moves, for the thunderous stillness of buffaloes, for the fluttering tails of lion cubs in grass.
The Mara doesn’t just show you wildlife—it welcomes you into its ancient rhythm. And on this day, it felt like it was opening its arms just for me.
Jajabor 