"It's definitely somewhere here," the guide whispered, urging everybody to keep still and quiet. As the minutes ticked away, The warning calls became more frequent. Soon, the white-and black furred Langur monkeys, perched atop tall Sal trees, joined the chorus with a loud "keeee ... keeee." They could clearly see the tiger from their vantage point.

Tension mounted as the monkeys' shouts became cacophonous. The tiger was certainly there, but where was it going to emerge from? Suddenly, we all saw a flash of orange and black in the thick shrubs under the trees.

Cameras trained and eyes peeled we tracked the blurred patches of galloping color. The rustling through the dry bushes was loud and clear.

A gasp went up among the assembled audience — many more people had arrived by then in Jeeps, including M.C. — as the majestic tiger bounded through the forest, onto the road in front of us, 50 yards away, before disappearing into the foliage again.

A young woman squealed with excitement. Men said "wow" in hushed tones, and immediately began to look at their camera screens to see if the moment was trapped in digital magnificence.

I did too. And realized with great chagrin that I had set the camera on manual and shot on extreme slow shutter speed. The picture turned to be shaky and blurred. M.C., on the other hand, wisely relied on automatic and got a series of terrific images. He was once again a popular guy back at the lodge.

Never mind. What I saw that day through my camera's viewfinder will be printed in my memory forever.