Aroop and KD
In answer to some of your questions let me go back to some history. In my childhood days, Ganga flowed past the well known ghats of Kanpur called Sarsiyya Ghat, Parmat Ghats, Bhairon Ghat (cremations took place here), and Massacre Ghat towards Bithoor.
I did not know about Mouni Ghat, as Azadnagar, did not exist then. It was much later - I was in High school then when residential plots were being allotted to the applicants by the Corporation and my father, Haresh Babu, Moni Sengupta Babu and some more friends of my father bought plots of land, dreaming of a retired life on the bank of Ganga, enjoying the fresh air in close proximity of each other.
We lived in Mac Robert Ganj. As a child I would trail behind my Thakuma on religious occasions such as Makar Sankranti, or Solar eclipse, when people would go for a dip in the river. Parmat Ghats were near to our house. Ganga flowed in all its majesty - broad, deep and calm. Sometimes during the rainy season I heard discussions about the rising water level, about how ‘just a few steps remained to be submerged’ and about the impending floods. It thrilled me, thought the elders would be worried. But the water never rose to that extent.
It was the industries of Kanpur that caused damage to the river. The Elgin mills, Victoria mills, Cooper Allen, the tanneries and others were situated on the banks of Ganga and they released their industrial wastes into the river. Sewage was also poured into the river I think. Ganga slowly started drifting towards Unnao. A thin stream remained in Bhairon Ghat, probably with much diligent efforts. Mouni Ghat was an extension of that stream.
In 1972 we shifted to our house which had just been completed. We were all very happy to be living on the banks of Ganga, even though it was a poor shadow of its former self. I remember in those early days, once my mother had a wild idea of taking a dip in the water. But we did not want her to do so. The river had only a mud bank, no concrete steps. We feared that the earth would cave in to the river and none of us knew swimming. But my mother was adamant like a child. At the end the ordeal was completed - we had to bind one end of her sari to her waist and we held on tightly to the other end!
We did not have any house warming ceremony, as my father did not believe in rituals. The house came up with his hard earned money and many sleepless nights, when he typed business letters on his Remington rand when the whole house slept…My marriage was the first auspicious occasion that took place within one month of us settling in the new house.
I confess, I have seen very little of India. Because there was only one destination when children had their school vacations – Azadnagar. Summer vacations, winter vacations and some times Puja holidays too were spent at Dadur bari and as KD says morning and evening rounds with Dadu were part of the daily routine but by that time even that thin stream had disappeared.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
A Holiday to Remember - IV
A debate
Before R agreed to my proposal we had a small debate. Her point was that - as per our family holiday plan we were going to Haridwar with Budi, then why sacrifice staying at Dehradoon for a day and why not visit Kempty falls too? But within my heart, I was not prepared to bypass Ganga without a darshan in anticipation of a future plan. It could be childhood memories, when I had gone to the Parmat ghat with didima once and quite a few times with thakuma, who was a regular early morning bather. I had taken dip standing on the broad stairs along with hundreds of bathers. I don’t know when Ganga had disappeared from Kanpur and had drifted towards Unnao.
I remember, after my marriage when I had returned to my father’s house for the first time, and I had taken my new husband to the Parmat Ghat to have a glimpse of the Ganga. What a disappointment it was, my heart bled with anguish, when my hopes had come crashing…there was no trace of Ganga anymore. The temples, where we would enter after bathing to get a teeka from the priest, wore a deserted look. The bed of Ganga was lying bare, only with yellow sand. I stood there with a vacant look.
It fascinates me when I find Ganga having great likeness, with three stages of human life. Childhood stage - when it descends from the mountain, flowing over the gradients, sprinting, rippling, bubbling with energy, running swiftly, just like the truant child who either runs or falls but seldom walks, then the Middle course when it flows over the planes of Uttar Pradesh serenely, majestically, acquiring the personality of a settled middle age. And the Last Stage - when numb with carrying heavy loads of sand and mud, it becomes sluggish, breaking into hundreds of channels, before entering into the sea, creating the biggest bay of the world - our Bay of Bengal. Don’t we too become sluggish when we almost reach our house after a long walk? Feet not too steady - falling this way and that way - body swaying left and right. Well! I imagine so, you may not.
I knew if I argued with R on the strength of my secret desire, my argument will not stand, so I said – “let’s go Haridwar to make a survey of the hotels, where we could stay with Budi, as we both were quite sure that no posh hotel would accept Budi as guest.”
R saw some logic in my point and sat down to do what she does best, calling hotels, with the help of her guide book She was impressed with one hotel Siddharth, because the person on line spoke in smart English, which is some kind of a certificate in our country of things above the average. A double room booked, she informed that we were reaching Haridwar next day around 1 P.M.
Chottomama
One more job remained to be done - to inform chottomama.. A man of few words, he had left Kanpur for his medical studies in Calcutta when I was just a kid and from there to England. He had returned after many years armed with double F.R.C.S. and rich experience of working in British hospitals…A pucca sahib by temperament, I felt uneasy in his presence, though my chemistry with mamima was excellent. If I had my way I would have liked to give her a big surprise by knocking at her door unannounced.
Chottomama picked up the phone - "arre Umu!!"
Ashbi.. chole aae.. besh moja hobe..
I was relieved but R was not. They were complete strangers to her. She kept asking me questions about them to prepare herself mentally for the meeting.
Next morning we checked out of the Hotel Deep early. Porters were waiting outside to pick up luggage from the outgoing tourists. We hired a porter and came to ‘Clarks’ for an English breakfast of fried eggs, cheese sandwiches and tea. It took us about an hour. I could see our porter waiting outside fixing his gaze on us, shifting his legs from time to time, and surprise! He never grumbled about waiting for so long. His name was Jublee. We came to the taxi stand. Rates were fixed so there was no question of haggling. We hired a taxi upto Dehradoon only and planned to cover the distance from Dehradoon to Haridwar by bus. R wanted to give some extra money to Jublee but after depositing our luggage he had vanished like voo doo. We kept looking for him from the running taxi but he was untraceable. After coming down some distance our driver said he had put his mobile on charge and forgotten to collect that. We could see he was little worried.
“Would it be lost?” I asked.
No chance of losing he said and kept om driving. But I was thinking how can a person engaged in a business manage without his mobile, moreover, how will he focus on driving, his mind straying elsewhere?
Turn back
Why
For your mobile
I could see a big smile on his face and he happily turned the taxi to recover his cell phone. That was the beginning of a very pleasant relationship between us. He was a good driver and a good guide too. He pointed at a beautiful palatial building on the top of a hill. It was ‘komal palace’ belonging to the ex King of Nepal, King Gyanendra. And some anecdotes… once he was taking a newly married couple to Dehradoon, who had to catch a flight. In the midway he came upon a roadblock. Huge boulders had slid down the hills, obstructing traffic movement. His passengers became nervous for they were sure to miss the flight. But he did not give up, ran to the nearby village, arranged hammers, pickaxes and everybody got down to work .The road was cleared and his passengers reached the air port on time to catch their flight.. He made our journey really enjoyable by his easy and relaxed driving. What a contrast it was from our previous experience two days ago. He insisted on driving us down to Haridwar. So we abandoned our plan of traveling by bus. And reached safely.
Before R agreed to my proposal we had a small debate. Her point was that - as per our family holiday plan we were going to Haridwar with Budi, then why sacrifice staying at Dehradoon for a day and why not visit Kempty falls too? But within my heart, I was not prepared to bypass Ganga without a darshan in anticipation of a future plan. It could be childhood memories, when I had gone to the Parmat ghat with didima once and quite a few times with thakuma, who was a regular early morning bather. I had taken dip standing on the broad stairs along with hundreds of bathers. I don’t know when Ganga had disappeared from Kanpur and had drifted towards Unnao.
I remember, after my marriage when I had returned to my father’s house for the first time, and I had taken my new husband to the Parmat Ghat to have a glimpse of the Ganga. What a disappointment it was, my heart bled with anguish, when my hopes had come crashing…there was no trace of Ganga anymore. The temples, where we would enter after bathing to get a teeka from the priest, wore a deserted look. The bed of Ganga was lying bare, only with yellow sand. I stood there with a vacant look.
It fascinates me when I find Ganga having great likeness, with three stages of human life. Childhood stage - when it descends from the mountain, flowing over the gradients, sprinting, rippling, bubbling with energy, running swiftly, just like the truant child who either runs or falls but seldom walks, then the Middle course when it flows over the planes of Uttar Pradesh serenely, majestically, acquiring the personality of a settled middle age. And the Last Stage - when numb with carrying heavy loads of sand and mud, it becomes sluggish, breaking into hundreds of channels, before entering into the sea, creating the biggest bay of the world - our Bay of Bengal. Don’t we too become sluggish when we almost reach our house after a long walk? Feet not too steady - falling this way and that way - body swaying left and right. Well! I imagine so, you may not.
I knew if I argued with R on the strength of my secret desire, my argument will not stand, so I said – “let’s go Haridwar to make a survey of the hotels, where we could stay with Budi, as we both were quite sure that no posh hotel would accept Budi as guest.”
R saw some logic in my point and sat down to do what she does best, calling hotels, with the help of her guide book She was impressed with one hotel Siddharth, because the person on line spoke in smart English, which is some kind of a certificate in our country of things above the average. A double room booked, she informed that we were reaching Haridwar next day around 1 P.M.
Chottomama
One more job remained to be done - to inform chottomama.. A man of few words, he had left Kanpur for his medical studies in Calcutta when I was just a kid and from there to England. He had returned after many years armed with double F.R.C.S. and rich experience of working in British hospitals…A pucca sahib by temperament, I felt uneasy in his presence, though my chemistry with mamima was excellent. If I had my way I would have liked to give her a big surprise by knocking at her door unannounced.
Chottomama picked up the phone - "arre Umu!!"
Ashbi.. chole aae.. besh moja hobe..
I was relieved but R was not. They were complete strangers to her. She kept asking me questions about them to prepare herself mentally for the meeting.
Next morning we checked out of the Hotel Deep early. Porters were waiting outside to pick up luggage from the outgoing tourists. We hired a porter and came to ‘Clarks’ for an English breakfast of fried eggs, cheese sandwiches and tea. It took us about an hour. I could see our porter waiting outside fixing his gaze on us, shifting his legs from time to time, and surprise! He never grumbled about waiting for so long. His name was Jublee. We came to the taxi stand. Rates were fixed so there was no question of haggling. We hired a taxi upto Dehradoon only and planned to cover the distance from Dehradoon to Haridwar by bus. R wanted to give some extra money to Jublee but after depositing our luggage he had vanished like voo doo. We kept looking for him from the running taxi but he was untraceable. After coming down some distance our driver said he had put his mobile on charge and forgotten to collect that. We could see he was little worried.
“Would it be lost?” I asked.
No chance of losing he said and kept om driving. But I was thinking how can a person engaged in a business manage without his mobile, moreover, how will he focus on driving, his mind straying elsewhere?
Turn back
Why
For your mobile
I could see a big smile on his face and he happily turned the taxi to recover his cell phone. That was the beginning of a very pleasant relationship between us. He was a good driver and a good guide too. He pointed at a beautiful palatial building on the top of a hill. It was ‘komal palace’ belonging to the ex King of Nepal, King Gyanendra. And some anecdotes… once he was taking a newly married couple to Dehradoon, who had to catch a flight. In the midway he came upon a roadblock. Huge boulders had slid down the hills, obstructing traffic movement. His passengers became nervous for they were sure to miss the flight. But he did not give up, ran to the nearby village, arranged hammers, pickaxes and everybody got down to work .The road was cleared and his passengers reached the air port on time to catch their flight.. He made our journey really enjoyable by his easy and relaxed driving. What a contrast it was from our previous experience two days ago. He insisted on driving us down to Haridwar. So we abandoned our plan of traveling by bus. And reached safely.
Monday, July 28, 2008
A Holiday to Remember - III
Back to the hotel
It was a beautiful room. It had no front balcony but there was no need. The front wall was made up of glass windows giving an exciting view, freshly made bed with crisp sheets, rugs and a quilt. Quite inviting! Tired as I was from laboriously climbing steep inclines, I hit the bed to enjoy its luxurious comforts. I lay wondering how unpredictably the day had turned out. How disappointed we were with our last room and how gloomy the day had been. R had been cribbing about how that place had some hidden negative energy and how dramatically everything had changed. The golden sunshine had lifted up the curtain of haze, revealing the breathtaking beauty of the majestic mountains, the lush green valleys dotted with colorful tops of the residential houses. We also had a peek into the life of the local people. Children in school uniforms, carrying school bags trudging along the roads - local sherpas carrying loads or small children or old people in their trolleys - way side restaurants preparing to cater to the customers. orders… I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I heard was loud thumping on the door.
R entered, looking excited. She had been to a cyber café to cancel our return tickets. I felt like the earth was slipping away from under my feet. What was she up to?
How are we going back then?
We are free birds now, no tension… Ha Ha! Look MoD, aren’t we leaving Mussoorie tomorrow morning, or you want to stay one more day?
No need we have seen what we wanted to see - besides Mussoorie is not much of a shoppers delight
This means we have gained one extra day, so we have to reschedule our itinerary, for which we need freedom of choice.
So! What are you thinking now?
Let’s have tea first to ignite our dimag ki batti
Tea was ordered. R spread the goodies she had bought at the confectioner. Before leaving she had given me strict instructions to resist from tasting them before tea-time. She was making so much of fuss pouring tea… I was impatient.
R opened the tourist guide, to see what Mr. Ruskin Bond had to say about Kempty falls, an hour’s drive from Mussoorie. …Traffic snarls take away the fun of driving. Picnic spots littered with plastic bags make an ugly sight...
Enough of that, aren’t we called ugly Indians? We can not let the beautiful experience go sour.
More sips into the tea cups. R had a new brain wave.
See MoD, There is Malsi, a forest resort, 15 kms from Dehradoon, there is a deer park, a forest bungalow… A phone number is given, I am going to ring up…
The call was answered by one Mrs. Roy.
“Yes a double room is available” she said
Tariff?
Rs. 1200, per head for one night
Meals?
Only breakfast
And guided tour?
“At your own cost” she answered.
R not entirely satisfied, still asked to book a room for two, in the names of U. Dutta and R. Dutta.. “We will reach tomorrow morning around 11 AM.” And she hung up looking excited.
MoD, we will be in Malsi Forest resort tomorrow, Oh! How very exciting…she prattled
R. put me in deep thoughts...Isn’t tariff too high? Who will provide lunch and supper in the jungle? Are we supposed to carry our food too? And who will be our guide? Are we going with a group or alone? Will it be safe to go deep into the forest with people whom we don’t know? Who is Mrs.Roy?
My fear was not the animals, for they do not hurt unprovoked and are consistent in their behavior, it was humans, we can not trust, especially in India.
There had developed an unspoken, unwritten understanding between us… responsibility for one another’s well being and safety. What face would we show if anything happened due to any foolish action?
R, you cancel Malsi
Now? Mrs Roy, She will wait for us
Let her go to hell, goli mar do
O.K.
So what is the plan for tomorrow?
Let’s go to Haridwar, straight away from here, and halt at Rurkee at Chottomama’s for one day
Fine
R gave her assent. And then we had a hearty laugh at poor Mrs. Roy waiting for her guests. Our floating itinerary had now started taking shape.
It was a beautiful room. It had no front balcony but there was no need. The front wall was made up of glass windows giving an exciting view, freshly made bed with crisp sheets, rugs and a quilt. Quite inviting! Tired as I was from laboriously climbing steep inclines, I hit the bed to enjoy its luxurious comforts. I lay wondering how unpredictably the day had turned out. How disappointed we were with our last room and how gloomy the day had been. R had been cribbing about how that place had some hidden negative energy and how dramatically everything had changed. The golden sunshine had lifted up the curtain of haze, revealing the breathtaking beauty of the majestic mountains, the lush green valleys dotted with colorful tops of the residential houses. We also had a peek into the life of the local people. Children in school uniforms, carrying school bags trudging along the roads - local sherpas carrying loads or small children or old people in their trolleys - way side restaurants preparing to cater to the customers. orders… I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I heard was loud thumping on the door.
R entered, looking excited. She had been to a cyber café to cancel our return tickets. I felt like the earth was slipping away from under my feet. What was she up to?
How are we going back then?
We are free birds now, no tension… Ha Ha! Look MoD, aren’t we leaving Mussoorie tomorrow morning, or you want to stay one more day?
No need we have seen what we wanted to see - besides Mussoorie is not much of a shoppers delight
This means we have gained one extra day, so we have to reschedule our itinerary, for which we need freedom of choice.
So! What are you thinking now?
Let’s have tea first to ignite our dimag ki batti
Tea was ordered. R spread the goodies she had bought at the confectioner. Before leaving she had given me strict instructions to resist from tasting them before tea-time. She was making so much of fuss pouring tea… I was impatient.
R opened the tourist guide, to see what Mr. Ruskin Bond had to say about Kempty falls, an hour’s drive from Mussoorie. …Traffic snarls take away the fun of driving. Picnic spots littered with plastic bags make an ugly sight...
Enough of that, aren’t we called ugly Indians? We can not let the beautiful experience go sour.
More sips into the tea cups. R had a new brain wave.
See MoD, There is Malsi, a forest resort, 15 kms from Dehradoon, there is a deer park, a forest bungalow… A phone number is given, I am going to ring up…
The call was answered by one Mrs. Roy.
“Yes a double room is available” she said
Tariff?
Rs. 1200, per head for one night
Meals?
Only breakfast
And guided tour?
“At your own cost” she answered.
R not entirely satisfied, still asked to book a room for two, in the names of U. Dutta and R. Dutta.. “We will reach tomorrow morning around 11 AM.” And she hung up looking excited.
MoD, we will be in Malsi Forest resort tomorrow, Oh! How very exciting…she prattled
R. put me in deep thoughts...Isn’t tariff too high? Who will provide lunch and supper in the jungle? Are we supposed to carry our food too? And who will be our guide? Are we going with a group or alone? Will it be safe to go deep into the forest with people whom we don’t know? Who is Mrs.Roy?
My fear was not the animals, for they do not hurt unprovoked and are consistent in their behavior, it was humans, we can not trust, especially in India.
There had developed an unspoken, unwritten understanding between us… responsibility for one another’s well being and safety. What face would we show if anything happened due to any foolish action?
R, you cancel Malsi
Now? Mrs Roy, She will wait for us
Let her go to hell, goli mar do
O.K.
So what is the plan for tomorrow?
Let’s go to Haridwar, straight away from here, and halt at Rurkee at Chottomama’s for one day
Fine
R gave her assent. And then we had a hearty laugh at poor Mrs. Roy waiting for her guests. Our floating itinerary had now started taking shape.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A holiday to remember - II
We reached Dehradoon at 1.30 p.m. Our original plan was to spend that day at Dehra sight seeing but then suddenly we changed our plan and decided to head for Mussoorie insted. In any case we were coming back to catch the train for our return journey, so sight seeing could wait for the time being.
A taxi was hired for the 34 k.m uphill climb, which takes about one hour. After a few kms drive, Doon valley was left behind. We could feel the sudden drop in temperature and see the changing scenery. The Sal forests were left behind with Oak, Deodar and Pine forests taking their place. After about half way up the hills the gradient was becoming steeper and steeper. Buses, lorries, taxis and private cars coming down from the opposite direction were whizzing past. The roads were narrow with hair pin bends and deep gorges on one side. Through out the journey we just could not relax for a moment and remained on our guard sitting up, holding our breath. It was no use telling the driver to drive slowly or cautiously. It was their daily routine. They even play pranks with a known person by coming on his track and then skillfully maneuvering the taxi out. I had a feeling that they enjoy taking risk with lives of the passengers at their mercy. At last the ordeal was over. We reached Mussoorie safely.
Hotel Deep where R had booked a double room for us was situated on a hillock. The interior had many levels and the steep climb to go to the upper floor dampened our spirit. The receptionist came with us to show us our room. It was situated at the end of a narrow corridor. Contrary to what R had been promised on phone, there was no front balcony. It was a foggy day; nothing was visible beyond a few meters distance. R, as I know her, is not the person to make compromises with something substandard. The receptionist was trying to impress upon us that this room would give us a view of the abodes of the celebrities such as Ruskin Bond, Tom Alter, Victor Banerjee, but we were not impressed. We had come to enjoy the beauty of the ‘queen of the hills’ and not concrete houses. The room even lacked in freshness. Grudgingly we settled down and ordered tea. R had now made up her mind. After tea she told me to lock the door and went out to look for a better place. I decided to have a nap. I was woken up from sleep by R calling me from outside. She was back with some refreshments, which we ate for dinner, and news about a better place, where we would be shifting the next day.
It was raining heavily - we could see flashes of lightening. In the night we heard some eerie noises from the other side of the wooden wall, which made us sit up on the bed. We got up early in the morning. I told R about my worries, had we come at the wrong time? Had monsoons already set in here? If so, there could be chances of land slides - we may be trapped. We decided to gather information about the rainy weather. If it persisted, there was no chance of an outing and no view of the majestic mountains. R ordered tea on the intercom. And the bill too.
After a short while, the son of the owner of the hotel, who had answered R’s enquiries from Delhi came to our room, asking why we were leaving so soon. When R explained the reason, he apologized saying that he had been absent and would immediately change the room. But we had made up our mind. After packing up our bags, we locked the room. We had enough time, so we started looking around a bit. Rain had stopped and a bright sun came up from behind the mountains, with a blue sky revealing the majestic mountains. And lush green forests covering the slopes. It was breathtaking, As we were enjoying scenery, the old man (proprietor of the hotel. He had heard that we were leaving) came up to us and started a conversation. He offered us tea. Knowing that we were not happy with our room, he said a deluxe room was becoming vacant after 11 a.m. and we could have it at a slightly higher price. So we agreed to stay on for one more day. Room problem solved, we deposited our bags at the counter and went out to do a survey of the mall.
It was again a steep climb. I was panting for breath, while R kept on singing in my ears - “good for health, you are loosing kilos.” Smell of doshas and fried eggs was wafting in from the roadside eateries. Local small boys and girls were roasting bhuttas on charcoal fire. R bought two roasted bhuttas, which seemed the best treat in the chilly weather. Shops were opening gradually. We wanted to buy a souvenir of local made but were disappointed to know that everything is imported from outside . Mussoorie has no industry but though there are renowned schools started by the British. The hotels thrive on the earnings that they make during the tourist season. The local sherpas work as porters during the tourist season and in the construction sites during the off-season. There was a Tibetan market, where Tibetan women had their stalls selling teeshirts, skirts etc. We did some shopping there and that was all. We had skipped breakfast so we started looking for a good restaurant. Soon a board caught our sight, which said that authentic Tibetan and Chinese food was cooked there. We decided to have a Tibetan meal starting with the soup, it was hot and appetizing. The main course was also tasty. The hospitality was very good
As we came out of the restaurant, the scene had totally changed. The Mall was buzzing with people, small small stalls had sprouted on both sides of the narrow road, a band was playing .We heard that preparations were going on for celebration of some festival. Mussoorie is famous for its confectionaries and the bakeries were attracting the crowd with their mouth watering cakes, pastries, pies… We bought something for our evening tea. Back to the hotel, we were shown our new room. A beautiful one. One side had wall to wall transparent glass panel - giving an open view of the Queen… It was breathtaking! R told me to shut the door and not open to any one until she came back, and she hurried out. I decided to take a hot shower.
To be continued…
A taxi was hired for the 34 k.m uphill climb, which takes about one hour. After a few kms drive, Doon valley was left behind. We could feel the sudden drop in temperature and see the changing scenery. The Sal forests were left behind with Oak, Deodar and Pine forests taking their place. After about half way up the hills the gradient was becoming steeper and steeper. Buses, lorries, taxis and private cars coming down from the opposite direction were whizzing past. The roads were narrow with hair pin bends and deep gorges on one side. Through out the journey we just could not relax for a moment and remained on our guard sitting up, holding our breath. It was no use telling the driver to drive slowly or cautiously. It was their daily routine. They even play pranks with a known person by coming on his track and then skillfully maneuvering the taxi out. I had a feeling that they enjoy taking risk with lives of the passengers at their mercy. At last the ordeal was over. We reached Mussoorie safely.
Hotel Deep where R had booked a double room for us was situated on a hillock. The interior had many levels and the steep climb to go to the upper floor dampened our spirit. The receptionist came with us to show us our room. It was situated at the end of a narrow corridor. Contrary to what R had been promised on phone, there was no front balcony. It was a foggy day; nothing was visible beyond a few meters distance. R, as I know her, is not the person to make compromises with something substandard. The receptionist was trying to impress upon us that this room would give us a view of the abodes of the celebrities such as Ruskin Bond, Tom Alter, Victor Banerjee, but we were not impressed. We had come to enjoy the beauty of the ‘queen of the hills’ and not concrete houses. The room even lacked in freshness. Grudgingly we settled down and ordered tea. R had now made up her mind. After tea she told me to lock the door and went out to look for a better place. I decided to have a nap. I was woken up from sleep by R calling me from outside. She was back with some refreshments, which we ate for dinner, and news about a better place, where we would be shifting the next day.
It was raining heavily - we could see flashes of lightening. In the night we heard some eerie noises from the other side of the wooden wall, which made us sit up on the bed. We got up early in the morning. I told R about my worries, had we come at the wrong time? Had monsoons already set in here? If so, there could be chances of land slides - we may be trapped. We decided to gather information about the rainy weather. If it persisted, there was no chance of an outing and no view of the majestic mountains. R ordered tea on the intercom. And the bill too.
After a short while, the son of the owner of the hotel, who had answered R’s enquiries from Delhi came to our room, asking why we were leaving so soon. When R explained the reason, he apologized saying that he had been absent and would immediately change the room. But we had made up our mind. After packing up our bags, we locked the room. We had enough time, so we started looking around a bit. Rain had stopped and a bright sun came up from behind the mountains, with a blue sky revealing the majestic mountains. And lush green forests covering the slopes. It was breathtaking, As we were enjoying scenery, the old man (proprietor of the hotel. He had heard that we were leaving) came up to us and started a conversation. He offered us tea. Knowing that we were not happy with our room, he said a deluxe room was becoming vacant after 11 a.m. and we could have it at a slightly higher price. So we agreed to stay on for one more day. Room problem solved, we deposited our bags at the counter and went out to do a survey of the mall.
It was again a steep climb. I was panting for breath, while R kept on singing in my ears - “good for health, you are loosing kilos.” Smell of doshas and fried eggs was wafting in from the roadside eateries. Local small boys and girls were roasting bhuttas on charcoal fire. R bought two roasted bhuttas, which seemed the best treat in the chilly weather. Shops were opening gradually. We wanted to buy a souvenir of local made but were disappointed to know that everything is imported from outside . Mussoorie has no industry but though there are renowned schools started by the British. The hotels thrive on the earnings that they make during the tourist season. The local sherpas work as porters during the tourist season and in the construction sites during the off-season. There was a Tibetan market, where Tibetan women had their stalls selling teeshirts, skirts etc. We did some shopping there and that was all. We had skipped breakfast so we started looking for a good restaurant. Soon a board caught our sight, which said that authentic Tibetan and Chinese food was cooked there. We decided to have a Tibetan meal starting with the soup, it was hot and appetizing. The main course was also tasty. The hospitality was very good
As we came out of the restaurant, the scene had totally changed. The Mall was buzzing with people, small small stalls had sprouted on both sides of the narrow road, a band was playing .We heard that preparations were going on for celebration of some festival. Mussoorie is famous for its confectionaries and the bakeries were attracting the crowd with their mouth watering cakes, pastries, pies… We bought something for our evening tea. Back to the hotel, we were shown our new room. A beautiful one. One side had wall to wall transparent glass panel - giving an open view of the Queen… It was breathtaking! R told me to shut the door and not open to any one until she came back, and she hurried out. I decided to take a hot shower.
To be continued…
Sunday, July 6, 2008
A holiday to remember
A holiday planned on a sudden impulse turned out to be a blast. It had ups and downs; exhilarations and frustrations, but on the whole very rich in experience and discoveries.
When R said on phone, she needs a companion for a short holiday - my answer was ‘go with friends’. But R said she does not want to spoil her holiday with friends lacking in the spirit of adventure. Then my suggestion was, ‘take Baba’. Baba was consulted. He could not be blamed for not buying R’s idea. After all he is a retired person, not in the prime of his youth and having responsibilities of house management such as payments of bills and of course, Budiboo. He could not be dancing on R’s impulsive tunes. He wisely said, ‘No’. Therefore, I remained her only choice of a companion.
When R suggested Chennai, that too by air, I was floored. A meeting with B and her canine wards, a survey of her P.G. accommodation and the Blue cross animal shelter, some shopping would be quite exciting. Moreover if B moves out of Chennai, going there on a holiday will have no attraction. And from Chennai, a trip to Kanya Kumari could be planned, thus a long cherished desire would materialize. So, forgetting R’s impulsive planning I said ‘yes’. But disappointment was in store for us - air tickets were not available at such short notice.
R was desperate to get out of Delhi and its sweltering heat and muggy weather of June. So, she started looking frantically for other options. It was the peak season, all hill resorts and hotels were booked in advance. But R was not to give up. After some searching on the internet she chanced upon one ‘Deep Hotel’ in Mussoorie which was offering a double room with a front balcony that had an exciting view of the ‘Queen Of The Hills’. After booking return tickets in Shatabdi Express which went up to Dehradun, she triumphantly informed me on phone to get ready for a holiday in Mussoorie.
Instead of being happy, the news unnerved me. My mind was crammed with negative thoughts. Reports were coming about the rainy weather on the hills - landslides may happen or rash driving on the slippery roads may land us in a deep gorge (such incidents are common, even today’s newspaper carried reports of two such accidents in Nainital and Dehradun, which are just foothills). Besides as Baba was not coming, would it be wise to go with R, who does not have an imposing wrestler’s physique to fight if any untoward thing happened? Then I thought of Benaras. How R had conducted the tour like a consummate tourist and had passed Baba Vishwanath’s test by surmounting all the hurdles placed by him. R must have had sensed my lukewarm response, so she kept gauging my enthusiasm level on the phone. And I had to force myself to say that – ‘I am happy…excited…eager…just cant wait…’
Positive thinking brought positive results and I stopped worrying…
To be continued…
When R said on phone, she needs a companion for a short holiday - my answer was ‘go with friends’. But R said she does not want to spoil her holiday with friends lacking in the spirit of adventure. Then my suggestion was, ‘take Baba’. Baba was consulted. He could not be blamed for not buying R’s idea. After all he is a retired person, not in the prime of his youth and having responsibilities of house management such as payments of bills and of course, Budiboo. He could not be dancing on R’s impulsive tunes. He wisely said, ‘No’. Therefore, I remained her only choice of a companion.
When R suggested Chennai, that too by air, I was floored. A meeting with B and her canine wards, a survey of her P.G. accommodation and the Blue cross animal shelter, some shopping would be quite exciting. Moreover if B moves out of Chennai, going there on a holiday will have no attraction. And from Chennai, a trip to Kanya Kumari could be planned, thus a long cherished desire would materialize. So, forgetting R’s impulsive planning I said ‘yes’. But disappointment was in store for us - air tickets were not available at such short notice.
R was desperate to get out of Delhi and its sweltering heat and muggy weather of June. So, she started looking frantically for other options. It was the peak season, all hill resorts and hotels were booked in advance. But R was not to give up. After some searching on the internet she chanced upon one ‘Deep Hotel’ in Mussoorie which was offering a double room with a front balcony that had an exciting view of the ‘Queen Of The Hills’. After booking return tickets in Shatabdi Express which went up to Dehradun, she triumphantly informed me on phone to get ready for a holiday in Mussoorie.
Instead of being happy, the news unnerved me. My mind was crammed with negative thoughts. Reports were coming about the rainy weather on the hills - landslides may happen or rash driving on the slippery roads may land us in a deep gorge (such incidents are common, even today’s newspaper carried reports of two such accidents in Nainital and Dehradun, which are just foothills). Besides as Baba was not coming, would it be wise to go with R, who does not have an imposing wrestler’s physique to fight if any untoward thing happened? Then I thought of Benaras. How R had conducted the tour like a consummate tourist and had passed Baba Vishwanath’s test by surmounting all the hurdles placed by him. R must have had sensed my lukewarm response, so she kept gauging my enthusiasm level on the phone. And I had to force myself to say that – ‘I am happy…excited…eager…just cant wait…’
Positive thinking brought positive results and I stopped worrying…
To be continued…
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