Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | Entertainment | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

Cocktail of fragrances

A weekend getaway from Delhi if you're looking for hill country with lovely flora, pleasant walks, and views of the snow-capped Himalayas, says ROSHAN PAUL

SERENE SURROUNDINGS A view of Ranikhet

If travel is appealing because it throws up many experiences to learn from, then travelling with a group of children adds a whole new dimension to these experiences. We set off at night from Old Delhi station amidst the tamasha of getting 13 RAC tickets confirmed. I was woken up only twice that night by the 12-year-old in the adjoining upper berth, who leaned over and shook me awake at 3.15 a.m. — "we've reached, we've reached" — and 5.00 a.m., solemnly — "I think we need to change trains soon."

"Relax!" My patience snapped. Is it oxymoronic to ask for something in a tone exactly the opposite of what you are requesting? He lay back in silence. Oh dear.

I didn't sleep much after that, descending from my berth to see lush Kerala green fields as we rolled into Katkodam, the rail-head for much of Kumaon. We wound our way up to Ranikhet from there, taking vomit breaks for some of the children because of the winding hill road that led through pine forests and just planted terraced hillsides, past Bhimtal, past the turnings to Nainital and Naukuchiyatal, and then through Ranikhet to our lodgings on the outskirts of town.

Weekend getaway

Ranikhet is essentially a weekend getaway from Delhi if you're looking for hill country with lovely flora, pleasant walks in Reserve Forests, and views of the snow-capped Himalayas — the Trishul and Nanda Devi peaks are both visible on clear days, but are also good on semi-cloudy ones when you can just make out their outlines, adding a tinge of mystique to the view. The town itself is unappealing, going the commercial touristy way that has already befallen Nainital, Mussoorie, Shimla and MacLeod Ganj. But the local chocolate — bal mitai — is well worth a try as are the locally produced "Kumaoni" range of honeys, jams and chutneys.

Set up as the headquarters of the Kumaon Regiment in 1948, Ranikhet remains a cantonment town, and it was the drive through the cantonment area to the Jhula Devi and Ram Mandir temples that really brought home the serenity of the place. Leaving Ranikhet town, we climbed gently through woods of pine, oak, cypress and eucalyptus, interrupted by explosions of vividly hued flowers. The fragrance of pine and eucalyptus and the flowers, released and stirred into one aromatic cocktail by a burst of rain, wafted through our windows as we drove and drifted into our heads as we strolled on the browning pine nettles.

The Jhula Devi temple

Local belief

The Jhula Devi temple is worth an entry into any list of our spiritual idiosyncrasies. The temple was built after the village prayed to Durga seeking her protection from the tigers and leopards that inhabited those hills; the Goddess then appeared in a shepherd's dream and suggested he dig up an idol from a specified patch of ground and build a temple over that spot. The villagers faithfully followed the instructions and, according to the legend posted outside the temple, "despite the presence of leopards and the occasional tiger in this area, villagers and their cattle roam freely inside the forest even today." What makes the temple fascinating, however, are the sheer numbers of bells in, around and over it. The bells are testimony to the "divine and healing powers of Maa Jhula Devi", which means your wishes can come true if you tie a bell at the temple. So many bells have now been strung up and clumped together that they've started piling up in one corner of the temple in what looked like, well, a junk heap of bells.

The nearby Ram Mandir doesn't have the same appeal but, being higher, offers better views of the Ranikhet hills. Inside, a group of women with pallu covered heads sang bhajans in a lilting, lulling melody under the benevolent gaze of a babaji. He looked up, glaring, as my flash went off, but then nodded benignly as I quickly folded my hands together in a supplicating namaste.

What makes travel so appealing to me are the moments of stillness in a strange, new place when everything — the place, your life, and your journey — suddenly seems to fit in perfect harmony. In Ranikhet, it happened one night when I was sitting alone on the hotel rooftop after everyone else had gone to bed, recharging my introverted batteries after a day spent shepherding a group of energetic children.

There was lightning that night, an incessant lightning that lit up the hills and the valley below in staccato bursts of dazzling brightness, almost — dare I make such a blasphemous analogy? — like a strobe light in a nightclub. The sounds of the forest behind me filtered through my ears and the sky seemed unable to hold all the stars it contained. After each blazing flash of light illuminating this world, the stars danced perfectly with the lights in the valley below. The refreshingly chilly breeze reminded me that I was glad to be out of my cooking Delhi barsati, and I surveyed the scene thinking, `If this is work, then play on.'

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail