At Pench Jungle Camp, where most conversations revolve around tiger sightings and safari routes, my own curiosity took a quieter turn. I found myself drawn into a long conversation with a fellow Seema, naturalist Seema Vishwakarma, whose way of reading the forest felt refreshingly different. While many guests spoke in stripes and pugmarks, she spoke of scales, textures, and creatures that rarely make it to the spotlight.
Over the course of my stay, our conversations revealed a journey that stood apart from the usual wildlife narrative. Trained as a zoologist and once firmly on a research path, Seema chose to step away from academia and into wildlife hospitality, trading laboratory work for life in the field. Her work today bridges science and storytelling, helping travellers see the forest beyond its most celebrated inhabitants.
What truly defines her approach is her deep specialisation in herpetofauna, especially snakes. From vipers hidden in leaf litter to nocturnal frogs calling after dark, her passion lies with the misunderstood and often overlooked residents of the jungle. In a landscape dominated by tiger fever, her perspective offers a reminder that the wilderness is built as much on the small, silent, and scaled as it is on the iconic big cat.
From Snakes to Big Cats
Wildlife has a way of slipping into conversations when it comes to travel. Over coffee in a café, during a long drive, or while browsing through a magazine. Maybe it is the constrains of city life that heighten the allure of the wild. Now imagine arriving in a forest landscape where everything, everywhere, points to one obsession: the tiger.
From the moment you check into your resort, the big cat follows you. On curtains, notice boards, coffee-table books, and in every animated conversation. Guests casually scroll through their phones, showing grainy yet triumphant photographs of a tiger sighting from “just two days ago”. The animal feels tantalisingly close, like a promise shimmering just beyond the next safari gate. One more drive. One more turn of the forest track. Perhaps this time.
Amid this collective tiger fever, I met someone who looked at the jungle very differently.
She is a naturalist from Goa, and coincidentally, we shared the same first name, Seema. That small connection sparked a conversation that soon went far deeper. Curious, I asked what had brought her from the rainforests of the western coast to the tiger-dominated forests of Central India, and into wildlife hospitality.
Her answer surprised me.
Snakes.
Over the next few days, between safaris and quiet moments around the Pench Jungle Camp resort, we spoke often. While most guests chased stripes and rosettes, Seema also spoke of scales, textures, behaviour, and the quiet magic of creatures most people overlook. This perspective resonated with the way I look at jungle safaris. Enjoying in the surroundings, landscapes, and all things wonderfully small from oriole calls and tiny funnel-web spiders to the dramatic lakes and sprawling trees.
What follows is Seema Vishwakarma’s story.
From the rainforests of Goa to the dry forests of Central India, it is quite a shift. What has your professional journey been like?
I’m a postgraduate in Zoology from the beautiful state of Goa. I grew up in a small village surrounded by nature, and wildlife has been part of my life for as long as I can remember.
As a child, I was always outdoors, sometimes watching pythons, cobras, or boas near our fields, and other times unknowingly holding a vine snake, mistaking it for a tender creeper while playing. I had a birdbath in my backyard, kept fruits out for birds and butterflies, and every day felt like a small discovery. Those early experiences planted a deep sense of curiosity and admiration for the natural world.
Academically, though, my path was very different. I had my sights set on a PhD and spent years preparing for national and state-level examinations such as CSIR-NET, GATE, and SET. I worked hard and was fortunate to clear all of them with good All India Ranks. I was fully committed to a research-driven career.
But somewhere along the way, I felt a pull, something deeper than academics. Every time I was in the field or interacting with wildlife, I felt a sense of purpose that was impossible to ignore. While research satisfied my intellect, the wilderness spoke to my soul. That realisation eventually led me to become a naturalist.
Wildlife hospitality allowed me to bring together everything I love, science, storytelling, exploration, and connecting people to nature. Today, I get to share knowledge, interpret the forest, create meaningful guest experiences, and contribute to conservation in a very hands-on way. It feels like the perfect balance between passion and purpose. I truly believe this is where I’m meant to be.
Your work has taken you across very different landscapes in India. How has that shaped you?
My journey as a naturalist has taken me through two contrasting ecosystems, the dry deciduous forests of Central India and the lush rainforests of the Western Ghats. Experiencing both has shown me just how extraordinarily diverse India is. And yet, I still feel I’ve only scratched the surface. There is so much more to see, learn, and understand, one lifetime simply isn’t enough. Looking ahead, I would love to explore the forests of Northeast India. Their natural beauty, cultural richness, and especially their incredible birdlife have always fascinated me, and I hope to work there someday.
Do you have a particular area of specialisation in the wilderness?
My work has given me experience across several taxa including butterflies, birds, and herpetofauna. However, the group I’m most deeply drawn to, and truly specialise in, is herpetofauna.
Snakes, in particular, fascinate me. They are among the most misunderstood creatures, yet they are incredibly complex and beautifully adapted. Vipers are my absolute favourites, deadly, mysterious, and elegant in their design. The Malabar pit viper, especially, captivates me. Its colour morphs from yellow, orange, brown, green to even blue and these shades are stunning. I’ve spent countless hours searching for them, quietly observing their behaviour, and they never cease to amaze me.
I also have a deep fondness for frogs. The gentle calls of night frogs like Nyctibatrachus are unforgettable. One of my most cherished experiences was watching the complete life cycle of the Malabar gliding frog in my own backyard, from mating to the tiny froglet stage.
These intimate encounters with reptiles and amphibians are what shaped my specialisation. They’re the reason I feel so deeply connected to the wilderness.
What do you enjoy and dislike with when guiding travellers?
What I truly appreciate about travellers is their curiosity. Some are fascinated by birds or butterflies, others come with their hearts set on seeing a tiger and I respect that. Everyone connects with the wild in their own way, and that diversity keeps my work interesting.
I wouldn’t say I dislike anything about travellers, but there is one challenge. When people forget that the forest is the animals’ home, and we are merely visitors. At times, excitement takes over. Voices get louder, movements become hurried, especially during tiger sightings.
It’s important to remember that a tiger is not an attraction, but a wild animal deserving respect. Silence and calm are not just courtesies; they protect wildlife and enrich the experience for everyone. When we slow down, the forest reveals far more than just its most famous resident.
What is the best time to visit Pench National Park, and what can a traveller expect?
The park is open to visitors from mid October to the end of June. For a greener landscape and comfortable cool temperature, its the winter months that are the best to visit. This is from November to February. Travellers can go on early morning safaris and enjoy birdwatching as both resident and migratory species fill the canopy.
For those keenest on spotting wildlife, late winter into summer (February to May) can be more rewarding. As water sources shrink with the onset of heat, big animals like tigers, leopards, deer and gaur tend to gather around remaining waterholes, increasing the odds of sightings and dramatic moments in the wild.
The park closes during the monsoon months (July to September) when heavy rains make trails impassable and core zones are officially shut to protect both visitors and wildlife.
Written by Seema Misra Seema Misra, based in the Maldives, is a communications professional with 20+ years across hospitality and other global industries. Away from the desk, she tells city tales in both words and colour, through watercolour illustrations and urban sketches.
