For a long time, I had not been to Landour and Mussoorie, the twin towns of Uttarakhand, which not only retain their magical touch but as many locals say, even the bricks and mortars here are living legacies of the British in India. No wonder, the locals provide charming anecdotes for anything and almost everything dating back to two centuries.
So there I was, on the road again. For a change, instead of driving, I was being driven to Mussoorie from Chandigarh one hot day in May. A chain of thoughts came to my mind which went back 20 years when I first visited the twin cities, Landour-Mussoorie. As they show flashbacks in movies, almost everything came before me as vibrant and lively as it was two decade ago—the place where I stayed then, the tea shop where I used to frequent, the flickering lights of the Doon valley on a clear day from the terrace of the hotel I was putting up, the dancing clouds, the masala omlette, the rickshaw ride, Gun hill ropeway, Kempty Falls, sitting on a bench and watching people and soaking in nature, getting dressed in the local costume to be clicked….it was endless.
As the thoughts came to a brief halt, I could see Roads and infrastructure getting a facelift and it was visible on the National Highway connecting Panchkula to Paonta Sahib. Just after the Nada Sahib Gurudwara, the road which used to be narrow two lane, is now being converted to six-lane with multiple flyovers. As the road cuts through the lower Shivaliks and is abode to a wide variety of animals, it was a pleasant surprise to see elevated animal pathways connecting the two ends of the hilly terrain at a couple of places. “Beware, wild animals are crossing the road,” signage was put up at several places in this belt.
From Haryana, you enter Himachal from a place called Kala Amb on this highway, renamed as NH-7. The hilly terrain takes you to Nahan and then climbs down through forest areas towards Paonta Sahib. A beautiful Gurudwara in pristine white on the banks of the Yamuna is located here, visited by thousands of pilgrims everyday and more on holidays. It is associated with Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Guru of the Sikhs.
You enter Uttarakhand just after crossing the Yamuna near Paonta Sahib, then reach the Indian Military Academy in Dehradun, the Forest Research Institute and on to Mussoorie via Rajpur Road. Hectic construction activity has taken place as you begin the uphill climb to the hill station. From a quaint city having salubrious climate, Dehradun has become a metropolitan city and the casualty has been the orchards of litchi for which it was been famous for long. Multi-storied flats have come up on the way to Mussoorie and of course, such concrete structures are an eye-sore, located amid pristine hills and forests. They must have disturbed the fragile ecology of the lower Himalayas while building these structures, I presumed. The road upto several kilometers has been badly commercialized with all sorts of shops mushrooming over the years, making it look quite odd to say the least. But then, I presume, livelihood and ecology has to survive together as these shop owners do get employment opportunities from the visiting tourists to Mussoorie.
Coming to ecology, I vividly remember the denuded hills around Mussoorie two decades ago during my uphill climb due to large scale mining activity and deforestation. After a country wide hue and cry and agitation of the locals, the eco task force of the Indian army got into the job along with the ITBP in some sections and restored the greenery back after years of efforts. Now the hills look as green as ever, covered with trees and mining has come to a complete halt.
As the vehicle climbs on the road, you can see Mussoorie in all its glory from a distance—houses, Churches, some landmarks. It looks precariously perched on top of a hill from a distance. Less than forty minutes later, my vehicle was at the Picture Palace end of the Queen of Hills and the driver straight away brought the vehicle to Sylverton Hotel, the newly opened property of Leisure Hotel Group, the largest luxury chain of hotels in the hill state of Uttarakhand.
A smiling General Manager, Harsh Semwal was there to greet me with a rose bud while his team had a welcome drink and a broad smile to offer, making you feel comfortable straight away in the spacious property. We checked in and settled in the room, munching the butter cookies which had been placed along with banana chips.
The room had sort of an arched balcony, the concept of which was perhaps borrowed from the British, and what a view it was of the Doon valley below and other areas of Mussoorie in and around from the lawns. “Wow”, I thought, looking endlessly at the valley, sitting on a comfortable chair and watching the perfect blue sky, the occasional cloud and the chirping of small Sparrows which are gradually getting extinct in the bigger cities. So many of them exist here, it means that environment has not degraded at this place and that’s really a great sign. I could easily identify the male and female sparrows as I remember watching their antics in my childhood and our Science teacher identifying the gender of not only the Sparrows but other birds as well during little treks to forests.
It was time to stroll on the Mall Road, perhaps the only happening place in the hill town. Two ends of the Mall Road define the city—Picture Palace on one end and Library on the other. In between lies the Road where vehicular traffic is banned and a leisurely walk, window shopping and enjoying the architecture of the old buildings is a great activity not only for the body but also to satisfy the curiosity pangs and get filled with the joy associated with discovering a new place.
Nothing satisfies a traveller more than to know about a place in all its detail and its historical importance. Soon, I found myself in the campus of the Central Methodist Church built in 1834, looked around, read the plaque and then moved ahead. Must have been a vibrant place till 1947 when the British left India, I thought.
Mall Road is quite a vibrant place—full of enthusiastic tourists, some taking selfie, others getting clicked by someone else, mobile phones of all hues flashing…they wanted to have all which the hill station was supposed to offer. The digital camera has perhaps died a slow death as mobiles have taken over. I literally saw some tourists opening their mouths wide and inhaling the fresh and cool air. “This is fresh oxygen,” I heard a middle aged person telling his wife, as he opened his mouth wide to inhale it. When I continued looking at him, he gave me a sheepish look and closed his eyes.
Sitting at one place and watching people has its own charm. You learn about the human behavior and their varied emotions in all its brilliance. I kept watching—an old couple, perhaps after their retirement, enjoying each other’s company…their facial expression said it all, vibrant as it was at the excitement of being in a new place. Then there was a young girl, just past her teens, extremely conscious about herself, taking selfies and also looking at others if someone was watching her take selfie. A couple, perhaps on their honeymoon, lost in themselves as if the world did not exist around them…the husband looks at his wife indulgently and the wife too gives a look common in lovelorn couples as they are enjoy hot coffee. There were many others.
It was time to move to the Sylverton again for the live music of the evening and cocktails. The lawns of the Hotel was well decorated, a live band was playing Indian songs while the guests sipping their drinks, immersed in the music and the evening. The lights of the Doon Valley were flickering bright in the clear night, presenting a magnificent view from the laws. “Wow,” exclaimed a group of four ladies, guests at the hotel. “I had never seen this, can never see it anywhere else, except from this place,” she said, as she asked me to click a group photograph of all the four middle aged ladies who were on a trip to the hill station from Andhra Pradesh.
I got up early next morning, slipped into the walking shoes and track suit and started for the walk all alone. This is how I explore a place and this was no different. Stray cattle, some harmless and innocent looking street dogs having long hair and a couple of tea shops opening for the day was all you could see at this time of the morning. I moved to what is called the Camel’s Back, a road which is on the other side of the Mall and is perfect for walks. In fact, for this very purpose the British designed it.
Camel’s Back is the backside of Mussoorie, a hump shaped road, free of commercialization which characterizes the Mall Road and a perfect set-up for a walk. Its 3 km long and meets the Library end of the town after a pristine view of the green uninhabited valleys and forests. A few enthusiasts, out to discover Mussoorie, had binoculars to watch the birds at play at the first sight of the Sun. Locals were stretching themselves out, some jogging, others walking. A physical education instructor had a dozen students under his tutelage and he was strictly enforcing discipline and ensuring that tough push-ups are done without any grimace.
Morning breeze has a smell and so have the woods. Even the valleys have a distinct smell and flavour. I could feel that as I stood at one corner and just watched, mesmerised at the deep valleys and clear mountains. The sun had come out in all its glory and was now shining bright in all its splendid hue and colour. Enjoying every step of the walk, fully immersed in it, listening to the chirping of birds and the occasional noise generated by a monkey jumping on a tree, I reached the other end which meets Mall Road.
Mohan Tea Stall was still there. I used to have morning tea from this kiosk when I stayed at Hotel Garhwal Terrace, opposite this kiosk, two decades ago. Thirty-eight year old Pramod is now the proprietor of the kiosk, replacing his father. I introduced myself and told him that I used to have tea here during my last visit. He said his father set up this shop and now has retired, leaving the family business to him. Pramod prepared the tea, which was as refreshing as it could be and engaged in a conversation about the only town he knows about. “I was born and brought up here and my father and family live above the shop. I can see changes almost every day,” he said, adding that the town had become quite crowded and even in off-season, there are tourists and a lot of casual visitors too who come in the morning, see the area in the day and go back to Dehradun in the evening.
It was soon time to be back at the Sylverton for a sumptuous breakfast and then in the sunny lawns watching the green valley again. You simply cannot get tired watching the valley from the lawns. One of the hotel attendants came and engaged in a conversation with my family members. “See there, that’s my house,” she pointed her fingers towards a distance. “Leopards are quite common near our house, the girl said, claiming that she herself has seen the big cat at least thrice. Overhearing this conversation, immediately the books of Ruskin Bond, the most famous resident of Landour, came to my mind. He has written in several of his books how Leopards are a common sighting and how they took away his pet dog once and also are fond of domestic animals.
Vibhas Prasad, the young Director of the Leisure Hotel Group, who has just taken over the property from its owners to run it, said the name came from the Sylverton Estate by which the property was known in the British era. “We want to create that by-gone era, the colonial charm, the looks, the décor, the furniture, the facilities… visitors want to see something different, want to experience the feel of the place they are staying and they will get it,” he said, adding that the town is synonymous with its colonial history and they have tried to recreate the magic again.
Prasad, who runs the largest luxury hotel chain in Uttarakhand, says his group did not have a presence in Mussoorie earlier and they are making a debut in the queen of Hills with Sylverton. The Director, had a thorough understanding of the tourism flow in Uttarakhand, places from where the state gets the maximum footfall and how increased traffic at the Jolly Grant Airport in Dehradun has changed the tourism eco-system as has the coming of big brands of the hospitality sector in Mussoorie and other parts of the state. Though it is still on an expansion mode, Sylverton has 45 rooms overlooking the valley at present, multiple options for dining, banquet and conference facilities for 250 guests and enough space for corporate events and destination weddings.
In the hills, the appetite increases, perhaps because of the extra walk, fresh air and also because the mind more or less remains idle, forcing the stomach and the digestive system to overwork. An elaborate spread of lunch helped the cause and then we headed for Lal Tibba and Landour. It’s hardly 4-5 kms from Picture Palace but an entirely different world altogether.
The world comes to a standstill in Landour. It is so quaint, so idyllic so picture postcard type. Enveloped in clouds, deodar and chestnut trees, interesting flora and fauna and of course great views of the Himalayan ranges and the snow peaked mountains in the distance, the best way to explore this Cantonment is simply by walking, breathing, smelling and feeling the woods and inhaling fresh air.
The British set it up as a Cantonment, way back in 1827 and locals say that it still resembles 18th century England countryside if you remove the visible signs of development. As the Cantonment Board has a hawk eye on any violation of building norms and bye-laws of preservation, you get a pristine small town which looks perfectly preserved for the last almost two centuries of its existence. Still a few British live here, just for the sake of nostalgia, reminding them of their place back home and to know how the earliest colonial masters came to inhabit Landour, a hill overlooking dense forests and mountain ranges. Many still come from Britain to look for the graves of their ancestors and pay their respects.
When Landour was coming up, it was initially designed as a health resort for the wounded British soldiers of the then East India Company. They were looked after by the trained nurses and no wonder Sister’s Bazar still is the name of one street just after those caring nurses. As you stroll down the streets of Landour you only have stray dogs as company and they harmlessly wag their tails to see you, indicating that you are welcome in their territory.
One of the locals who accompanied us indicated towards a beautiful small hill house, saying this belongs to Victor Banerjee, the popular Bengali actor. “He comes here quite often and takes a stroll on this road,” added the guide. “I meet a Professor of AIIMS almost every weekend as he comes from Delhi. He says that besides Switzerland, you get the most unadulterated oxygen in Landour,” the guide extolled the virtues of the place. Sachin Tendulkar too has a property here in partnership with someone, the guide pointed out and it ran into some trouble due to violation of building bye-laws.
Strolling the streets, we came to the Landour Bakehouse and what a wonderful Bakery it was. Besides the stuff being sold here, it has retained its original architecture dating back to the British era without any change in the façade or interiors.
Landour Bakehouse has an interesting historical anecdote to share. In the 1800s, the baker was the heart of every rural community in England. When Victoria became queen in 1837, most of her people lived in the countryside and every parish would have had a communal oven or a Bakehouse. Landour was no different and from the early 1900s all of its eclectic residents, including military doctors and nursing sisters, British and American missionaries, Language school students and Woodstock school parents and staff met at the Community Centre Book clubs and other social gatherings on the hillside. They often exchanged their international recipes and high altitude baking tips with each other. Little did they know that these recipes would continue to be used till this day by the community of Landour. The Bakhouse claims to use the same old recipe even now, molded in the modern flavour.
“It looks like you have been transported in a 19th century bakery,” Vibhas Prasad, the hotelier who was with us, said. A well read man, Prasad recounted the stories of Ruskin Bond and other ghost stories as we crossed the Landour cemetery below the road on which we were walking and also above it. The road was constructed between the two parts of the cemetery and its gates were locked. I wondered what perhaps could be the reason to lock the gates of the cemetery; I couldn’t find any logical answer to that. In any case, Landour-Mussoorie has dozens of spooky stories to offer with real names, most of them British, but also Indians. Ask any local and he would be a depository of several such stories which he has heard from his parents and grandparents and is happily passing them on to the next generation.
Landour has been a military cantonment since 1827 and was a health resort for wounded soldiers who were looked after by nurses, thus giving the main Landour cantonment its name, Sisters’ Bazaar. Beautiful hill houses, using local material, architecture typical of the British country side, cuddled up against the backdrop of dense pines and moss-laden cemented railings, presenting a view straight out of the story books of Charles Dickens and the poetry of William Wordsworth.
When the British were in the peak of their power in India, Mussoorie was a vibrant place, attracting the young officers from all over the country. There were numerous clubs and hotels and after a night of revelry, people found it difficult to return to their residences without any convenient mode of transport. Around 1890s, the idea of hand pulled rickshaws came and implemented without delay. There are numerous local stories about rich Indian businessmen and British officers, drunk to stupidity and their acts of omission and commission. The Mall Road is witness to a lot of these stories. Of course peddle driven rickshaws still ply on a section of the Mall Road but now, there are no stories as they carry tired tourists. One of the hand pulled rickshaw from those days is still preserved on this stretch as a showcase to its evolution.
“Stories and legends run around Mussoorie and Landour. You just have to keep the ears and eyes open along with the curiosity levels and you are bound to come back again and again,” summed up a an old resident of the town with whom I broke into a conversation during the morning walk.
