The Unfamiliar Familiar – New avatars of old haunts - Mussoorie, Company Gardens

The last stop – before heading back to home and what passes for regular life for us – of the epic “back to the past” trip, was Mussoorie. After all how can anyone go to Doon, and not do Mussoorie?

We set off in the morning, and stopped first at the pakora point. After all, a few plates of piping hot pakoras and some chai are de rigueur for this trip up the hills. The pakoras are, indubitably, some of the best I have ever had, and the chai, while not of the caliber of the brews of Bengal, was quite enjoyable and refreshing. 

 

From there, and onto the famous Company Gardens of childhood wonder and memory, the roads and sights are familiar and strange at the same time. 

The gardens are at once smaller than I remember and better put together than memory says. Pretty enough, and centered on that amazing experience of memory, the lake and the boating. And that’s where the shock sets in! 

The so-called lake, which had seemed so vast and magical in those – almost ancient – times, is barely the size of my living room, and those “duck shaped” paddle boats are beyond ridiculous, and nothing like the “mayurpankhi” of the early 80s.

But, as always, any disappointment from remembered images is far offset by the stunning vistas around every corner of the hairpin bends on the mountainous roads. 

Post lunch, we head off to the Mall Road. Every hill station in India has one, and it is where the beating heart of the town – in this case the Queen of the Hills – lives, and thrives, though shops, hotels, hawkers and whatnot. 

Parking and walking up to the Mall Road… just that… is STILL an experience worth every second. The views – and the cold!!! – so incredibly amazing! For a polar bear like me… who comes alive in the cold and in the mountains… it was completely scintillating. And it was cold enough to make even me – walking around in a kurti in Dehradun in January, actually take out a jacket and drape a shawl over it! 

A rickshaw trip to the base of the cable car station, some photos, and some momos later, we finally bid adieu to the mountains, and sadly made our way back to Doon, dreading the flight home the next day. 

The Unfamiliar Familiar – New avatars of old haunts - Shiv mandir, Kempty

The third installment of the January travelogues is about 6 months late… but here it is…

Of all the unfamiliar familiar places that were planned for visits, the Shiv Mandir on the way to Mussoorie was probably the most highly anticipated. Now this is certain to be a shocker to anyone who knows me even remotely. Because, and this is important, I am a super atheist. No religion. No god. No rituals. No festivals. Not even funeral rites for my beloved father! So how, for such a Naastik, does a TEMPLE become such a destination?

Well, the thing is, I have no interest in the actual deity of the place. Or the length of time it has been around, since it isn’t exactly historical. The attraction are the gemstones. That’s right. This is the place where you can buy precious and semi precious stones – guaranteed genuine (offering to pay penalties in lakhs if one turns out to be fake), for ridiculously cheap prices, and by weight! Having been too poor to afford any, and in too much of a hurry to stop and shop, the last time I was there (that’s right! All of 24 years ago!), we had long since decided to indulge to my heart’s content on this trip. 

So bright and early (well, relatively early, considering we had to coordinate 2 families, one of which had just finished a huge even the previous night) on our last day in Doon, we drove off to the higher grounds, past old schools and new colleges, past familiar institutions like the Ramkrishna Mission and Buddhist Temple and shiny new colleges, on my 2 decade delayed treasure hunt. The way there hasn’t really changed much, as is normal for the soft Himalayan hills, and limited possible road widenings.

The deer park is no longer far outside the city, with malls and buildings, stores and homes, the city extending all the way to the park and beyond. I remember when a trip to the park was a day long picnic. A long row of about 20 scooters and motorcycles – those trusty Bajaj Chetaks, the odd 1980s Lambretta, the cool Rajdoots – all loaded up with the families of the employees of DRDO, would wind its way from the city. The city comprehensively ended before the Ramkrishna Mission back then, and even that was the outskirts. The picnickers would make their way through the Sal forests and up narrow hilly roads, to get to the park. It seemed such a long way away, to the 10 or so year old me.  Whether it is time or many years in much bigger cities, or just the fact that I am much bigger now, the world seems to have shrunk a fair bit. Rajpur road no longer looks like such a vast way across, and places are so much closer. 

Arriving at the temple, things looked more familiar, the narrow road made narrower by the many vehicles parked on the side. The hundreds of monkeys quiet enough on their perches, but a scourge for anyone who makes the mistake of having a packet of chips or an ice cream cone in their hands. Things didn’t look like they had changed much. Until I looked across the road at the actual edifice! 

What was a single gated, open courtyard, small rural temple a quarter of a century ago, not surprisingly, is not this huge building with many dopes and “chura”s … quite the sight, in fact. 

The open courtyard is history, replaced by a dark, covered hallway, and the open tray heaps of jewels are now an organized display of glass cases. 

What hasn’t changed is the fact that you can STILL – for the price you would pay for ONE gemstone in your city – you can leave with a fistful of gems of many hues and shapes!  Shopping done, photographs taken, we set off for the next stop. 

                                            

The last time I was at the Kempty Falls, I was all of 11 years old. 

I remember being impressed then, but from the other side of almost 40 extra years, and much “development”, the actual vista was quite pyrrhic. 

The falls themselves have been cut down to half their height, the top half looking more like piped drainage than any kind of natural spring.  The lower half of the falls still exists, but has been severely crimped in, and work was still going on at the base, probably to hem in the natural pool and turn it into a concrete sink hole. The surrounds, the forests, the steep climb down… all gone. Its all ropeways, water parks, and frenetic construction. 

Waste of half a day, it seemed like, to an old local like me.

The drive there and back, the views, though! Worth every second! The Himalayas NEVER disappoint!