About Kaushal Mathpal
Kaushal Mathpal is an Advocate practicing in Delhi Courts in India but also has a flair for travelling. When he's not in a courtroom, he enjoys exploring various parts of India and the surrounding region. He also writes on his blog http://rediscoveryourdreams.wordpress.com/ and you can follow him on Twitter @KaushalMathpal.
Latest Posts by Kaushal Mathpal
Welcome to Naukuchiatal in the Himalayas. Serene, peaceful, mystical, beautiful…
The stay at Ramgarh had been an uplifting and nurturing one. I loved the pristine silence in the air which relieved me from the intolerable jingles of the metros. As all good things come to an end, soon I was on an unwilling retreat back to the bustle of metros. While on my way back, I had couple of hours spare which was just enough to discover the small town of Naukuchiatal which stays on the brink of being acclaimed as “hill station” but fall short of it. It’s the next door neighbour to little busier and known place- Bhimtal. Both the town have one similarity i.e. the beautiful “tal” meaning a “lake” which give the very name to it and they are so intermingled with each other that you won’t even realize when you have stepped into the territory of the other.
While on my way back from Ramgarh, I de boarded the local bus at Bhimtal lake to board a local taxi which dropped me right in front of the famous Naukuchiatal- the lake with nine corners. I bypassed few intervening restaurants before I could get an unobstructed view of the nine corned lake. The panoramic view of the lake was enough to make anybody immerse in its prettiness. The azure sky intertwined with lake water painting it all blue. The sun shine rippled farther and farther with the water making it prettier to the eyes. On the shore, few duck shaped boats lounged waiting for it riders to be paddled into serene company of the lake. The wind around the lake had a slight coolness as compared to the rest of area which was truly a boon in such a hot weather. Soon the lake shore was busted with families, couples, youngster groups waiting for their turn in the duck boat, shikara and their clamouring had somewhat diluted its earlier serenity. I do not blame them, they were doing what they came for: enjoyment; but it didn’t just suited me as I expect some silence and peace from such trips.
I determined to find my own space along this vast nine corned lake. I had visited this place around 10 years back during a school trek and my eyes started hunting for some familiar location. I remembered that during my last visit we were taken along the lake shore amid the woods. I hurried my eyes all over the place and soon found some clue but wasn’t really sure. I strolled through the mud path which became leaner as I moved forwards. Few more steps, there were string of broken and unusable boats lined up like retired army fleet and were now home to some of marine life of the lake. A few more steps, there was a tree trunk shaped like a snake with some of its roots floating in water and other piercing the earth. I went near to the water and looked closely, I could see minute toads (all these years I thought they were fish) running like athletes running a 100m.
My Private Shore on Naukuchiatal
There was hardly any noise in air apart from occasional chattering sound emanating from nearby resort. I had found my private shore along the stunning Naukuchiatal. I lied down on ground with some support from my backpack and got completely engrossed in the view in front. Time seemed to have stopped as I could listen to my own breath and heartbeat. The silent air devoid of any artificial movement/sound had rejuvenated me entirely. I felt so relaxed that I didn’t knew when I was asleep being continuously caressed by cool winds blowing over the lake. The pebbles underneath didn’t seem to bother my sleep at all.
I didn’t know how long was I knocked out. When I got up I decided to head back to Bhimtal but not through the way I came but the other way along the Naukuchiatal. While on my way back, I was really envied by private estates which had the privilege and luxury of watching the lake every day from their windows. Rambling through the muddy trails, cemented paths, metalled roads and enjoying the lake, I didn’t realized when the Naukuchiatal was replaced by Bhimtal.
A temple amid Bhimtal Lake
Boats on Bhimtal Lake
When I reached the shore of Bhimtal (the lake), it was teeming with food stall, kiosks, restaurants and tourists. The autumn had just arrived leaving only pink flowers on the nearby trees making it look more beautiful. On the shore lied the fleet of multi coloured boats ferrying the tourists in and out. The nature had once again won mine and many other tourists’ hearts with its simplicity and beauty.
Such splendid views and experiences are the reason for my journeys and I hope that there is no end to such journeys!
I had a wonderful time in the tranquil atmosphere of Dhanaulti in the Indian Himalayas and finally, it was time for me to move ahead to my next destination-Mussorrie. I boarded a local jeep packed with passengers on every inch of seat and after a journey of around 1 hour amid the beautiful mountains, I arrived at Tehri bus stand in Landour which is also part of this famous hill station and hometown of equally famous writer Ruskin Bond.
The town was in complete contrast to my last destination. The streets were bunged with overcrowded tourist populations, the small shops occupied every possible inch it could occupy, there were hotels with their giant boards each claiming to give an unobtrusive view of the hills. I reached Mussorrie in evening and at that time literally there was not even space to walk on the roads. I had visited Mussorrie long time back and I searched for the hotel I checked in last time. I found it at last but in the search I rambled across the whole town, almost every street of the town as it was on the other corner of the town near the Dehradun bus stand.
Seeing such a bustling herds of human species on the tiny hill station and hearing their incessant infiltrating noise, I really missed Dhanaulti at that moment. The extreme tourism in the hill station have made it similar to metros which I aimed to escape during my journey. I relieved my shoulders of the baggage with which I walked almost few kilometres in search of the hotel and hit the streets immediately but feeling free and light. The large groups of people had occupied the roads and remaining were occupied by the hawkers selling momos and other delectable street foods. Although it appeared to be a metro city in the evening but there was huge difference in expressions of the people. Contrary to metro evenings, people looked refreshed, they laughed, enjoyed the street food, sat on the benches facing the mountains, couple held each other hands, children ran over the mall road with their innocent smiles- there was cheerfulness on each face on the mall road and I guess the “Queen of Hills” had casted a magical spell of happiness all over the place.
While looking out for room, I had smelled the clutching nostalgic aroma of pizzas emanating from Dominos. Every time the transparent glass doors opened, the distinctive smell of the seasoned mozzarella melting over the base would sneak out and entice more customers and I was no exception. I decided to feast my taste buds with their renowned garlic bread. However, soon all my excitement suffered a setback when I saw the garlic bread as it was half of what we get in plane areas. Even though the half sized garlic bread was an unforeseen setback to my taste buds but still they took no time to gulp it. I strolled for some more time on the streets and later withdrew myself into the cosiness, comfort and silence of my room for the evening.
The next morning I woke up at leisure with no hurry to cover all the tourist spots of the town. The morning was bit nip and surprisingly mute compared to the evening. I marched down the cemented path to the mall road for a brisk morning walk. The roads were clear, shops were still closed, the infiltrating clamouring of the last evening was absent and the so called “tourist” still seemed to enjoy the warmth of their hotel rooms. I could only sight locals running for their daily chores. Now it appeared quiet and serene to fit into the definition of a true “hill station”. Now it reflected why it is crowned as the “Queen of Hills”, why British loved it, what keeps Ruskin Bond going even at this age and what drags the masses every weekend
Since the “tourist” were still at bay from the streets, now I had the luxury of stretching my arms and legs on dull and discolored bench tucked along the mall road facing the valley. In the evening all these benches are occupied and one has greedily wait and keep an eye on others to rise before they can grab them like Spartans. The view of the valley and minuscule dots of habitation amidst the dense robe of forest over the mountains ran an awe feeling in my heart.
With some frozen feelings, beautiful landscapes and moments in my heart at the pale green bench, I sauntered further on the mall road which was encouraged by the unadulterated freshness of the morning breeze. A few meter ahead, I saw two portrait artist from Chandigarh unfolding their inclined wooden easel on the road side and sharpening their tools. They hung few samples of their skills on the easel and patiently waited for their customers. In the meantime, I went to them and casually started chatting and as the conversation sparked I slowly and gradually grabbed the nearby stool meant for their customers. Both the artists were friendly and narrated many amusing tales of how people bargained with them. As I was not in any hurry like the other tourists, I spent over an hour gossiping with them till their first customer of the day arrived. I had part with the stool but I stood beside them to watch their skills in action.
Their hands moved like a trained robot over the white sheet and within 15 minutes the exact Xerox copy of live species in front of them was created. Even the minute wrinkles on the face were detailed out. The crowd had begun to pour in mostly- just watching their finger’s dance on sheet.
While they were still busy in their work, I bid them goodbye. I strolled for some more time, the shops and the tourists both had started to roll out. The sun was up and it commenced to douse me with its heat. At this point, a sense of satisfaction and contentment transpired through me and I realized that this hill station bestowed me with what I came looking for- and before it evaporates in the heat of sun, I decided to leave with smile on my face which I think its way of thanking everyone for visiting this place.
Gwaldam was incredible and I certainly loved the serenity and simplicity of the Himalayas and its natives. The very next day, I woke up at 4 am to catch the local bus to Lansdowne. The morning was coupled with bit of nippiness in the air and a bit of drizzle from the dark skies- making it the perfect kick off. As the valley emerged out of the dawn, the view in front suited every cliché invented to describe awesomeness.
The bus swirled through the mountains and the swirling turns forced many passengers (especially ladies) to pop their heads out of the windows to puke (a common weakness during travelling in mountains). Well…it all seemed a bit funny only because I was not amongst the one with their head out. As we headed towards Srinagar (don’t confuse it with J&K one), the Ganga appeared out of nowhere penetrating and carving a path for itself through the heart of mountains and spreading life along its shores. However, the ruins of last year catastrophe were easily visible. Although, this area was not much affected, but roads were broken, tattered and in decimated conditions. The bus had only few inches to spare and it was only their skill and practice that took us further.
Eco Park, Dhanaulti
Finally, we reached Srinagar-it was hot and the freshness of morning had turned into sweat drenched T-Shirt. Till this point of time, I was pretty sure I heading to Lansdowne, but then conductor informed that they are going to Rishikesh. I furiously argued with the conductor but nothing persuaded them to change their decision and at last I changed my decision and headed to Rishikesh.
The next morning I headed to Mussorrie but not from the normal route (Dehradun-Mussorrie) instead I took the longer turn (Chamba-Dhanaulti-Mussorrie) and I’m pleased with my decision. I planned to halt at Chamba but later decided to move towards Dhanaulti. The journey to Dhanaulti prospered with impenetrable deodar and pine forest along the road acting like a natural air conditioner turning the weather soothing as compared to Rishikesh.
Inside the Eco Park
The time flew like a swift while my eyes incessantly peeped and gazed the magical beauty outside the window. I was so engrossed in views outside that I didn’t knew when I reached Dhanaulti or how much time it took to reach there. Now talking about Dhanaulti- It’s a small stretch recently developed as an alternative to the overwhelming tourist populace in the adjoining Ruskin Bond’s Mussorrie. It offers little serenity as compared to clogged streets of Mussorrie.
The Beautiful – Eco Huts
The only attraction in Dhanaulti is newly developed Eco Park within the lush deodar trees to attract more tourists with its nominal entry fee of Rs. 25. But I recommend instead of running everywhere try to find a place in the park, sit, relax and enjoy the calmness and quietness of the place. I strongly advocate the idea of doing “nothing” during vacation and that’s what I exactly did. I retreated to one secluded corner in Eco Park with almost pin drop silence and laid down facing the sky. I cannot express in words how much relaxing it was. Although, nothing was moving around me and it was completely silent but still there was an unexplainable sound of this “silent nature” in the air which further comforted and mollified my senses.
The weather was turning to be rainy and the clouds floated along with the winds amidst deodar trees touching the ground. It portrayed the perfect picture of “heaven” as depicted in the movies and mythological serials. I was waiting for the Lord Indira and his gang to show up, but, nothing like that happened. However, this game of hide and seek between the sun and clouds continued for the evening. The sun seemed to be helpless as it lost all his power to soak me in sweat and making me run to escape its scorching heat. I could now face it fearlessly.
I relaxed for around 1-1.5 hour in the secluded corner of park before I started wandering around. There was not much to see beside the Eco Park. The accommodation in Dhanaulti are scarce and expensive as compared to neighbouring hill station during peak season, however, there is one accommodation worth giving a try- “The Eco Hut”. It’s a beautiful accommodation in bamboo huts equipped with all modern facilities, lawn and deodar trees around and one of the toughest to get. It’s advisable to book in advance. Since all the Eco Huts were pre-booked, I could only envy them and with this envied feeling I geared up for my next destination en-route- Queen of Hills – Mussorrie
I absconded from the monotonous city life to this solo Himalayan trip in order to explore some not so common places of Uttarakhand and secondly to evade the blistering summers of Delhi.
The first part of the journey is going pretty well but I’m yet to experience the latter part. The days both in Kausani and Baijnath were hot enough to make me sweat (although morning and evening were quite pleasant). The nippiness and coolness of the hill stations was still missing and I dearly hoped that my next halt on this journey would satisfy me from that perspective.
Completely exhausted by the day heat, I walked approximately 1 km from the Baijnath temple to reach a diversion – one heading to Bageshwar and other to Gwaldam. While many jeeps and taxis headed to Bageshwar only few took turn to Gwaldam which helped me finalizing my next halt i.e. Gwaldam. After spending an hour waiting under the ragged shed on the diversion, I finally found the wheels that would drive me to Gwaldam.
As I ascended on the hills to reach Gwaldam, I felt some radical change in the air and the landscape. The terraced fields were now replaced with thick pine and rhododendron/oak forest. The slopes camouflaged with dry pine leafs gave a ‘warmify’ and retro effect to whole area and making it picture perfect for the lens. The great ambience also charmed the atmosphere with coolness and freshness. The friendly driver behind wheel also kept the conversation going among the passengers making the ride more enjoyable and lively. He proudly boasted the stories of how he escaped from the last year’s catastrophe in Kedarnath and travelled on foot through the hills for four days to reach back his home. I guess he will continue to narrate this story again and again to his children and grandchildren.
Finally, I reached Gwaldam. At first look the town doesn’t seems please the eye of a ‘tourist’ but it surely will please if seen from the eyes of a ‘traveller’. It does not have any typical ‘tops’ or ‘view points’ as in other hill stations to attract ‘tourists’ but still it’s worth taking a halt here. Gwaldam is proudly and comfortably seated on the fence of Kumaon and Garhwal regions of Uttarakhand but it’s definitely not an arena between the two regions rather here one can see the amalgamation of both Kumaon and Garhwal regions and to some extent the Bhutias too which are also forms part of the natives. The major portion of Gwaldam is under the control of Sahastra Seema Bal (SSB) which has an active training centre. This small town also act as base for treks to inner and untouched regions of Himalayas such as Roopkund trek.
The hill station amid the beautiful oak trees offers some stunning and vibrant peaks of Himalayas if the weather is clear. There is no particular thing to do in Gwaldam but just take a walk around and I did exactly the same. I slept down for two-three hours and then strolled through the town. The shops and the market soon vanished and I was all in the arms of nature. The air was overwhelming only with natural hums of birds and mysterious resonances of the jungle and nothing artificial. In between, I saw the local ‘pahari’ woman appearing out unknown corners of jungles with large loads of dry pine leafs on their heads. Far down in woods, I could listen the fading voice of a shepherd singing a local ‘pahari’ song. Somewhere, bunch of local boys running up and down the hill to their dwellings. All this defines Gwaldam for me. It’s a perfect retreat for someone who don’t want to run to every possible location and want to just sit back and relax like a ‘vacation’ should be. It’s great for people like me who love to walk when they are out and enjoy the silence and calmness.
On my way back from the evening walk, I stopped at a local momos shop only to find a friendly host probably a Bhutia lady. She talked with so too much affection in her voice and also divulged the recipe to make authentic chutney for momos. Our talks went on some more time and I was rewarded with an extra piece of momos.
Next morning I got up leisurely at around 9.30 a.m. and headed to one of most sacred temples of both Kumauni and Garhwali people in the area- Badhaangarhi Temple. The temple seated on the top of the hill is not an easy trek for city resident like me. I started off and took a bus till a place called Taal (5 km from Gwaldam) on the Karanaprayag route. When I got down, I was happy to see an arched entrance going into the woods with name of the temple written on it. At that moment, I thought it won’t be much far.
Bells of Wishes in Badhangadi Temple
Alongside the rugged hilly path was the beautiful forest with the sound of water flowing through the rocks. Soon I got the company of a local government school teacher. As we climbed together, we discussed the conditions of level of education in government schools to which he replied as “pity”. He opined that although some facilities have increased in government schools still there is shortage of human resource. The discussion continued till Benatoli where I saw another similar arched entrance and I was informed that the actual journey starts from this point. I felt cheated as I had already hiked approximately 3 km and was expecting the temple.
At this point, the local teacher bid goodbye as he had his own way. I started the hike and soon began to feel the exhaustion. The climb was steep and I was finding hard on the lungs. Secondly, I saw nobody else en route which made me nervous. But I was firm on reaching the top. With every step I was losing my breath and at some moments it felt that my heart would burst out. It was so silent that I could clearly listen the rigorous pumping of my heart. At some moments, I felt of going back but the magical views of the valley encouraged me stay on track.
After a climb of 45 minutes, I heard voices of other similar species like me coming down from the temple and it was a sign of relieve for me that I was not alone. At last I reached the temple huffing and completely exhausted. The shrine of Goddess Durga is swarming will bells hung by the devotees with their names engraved on it (May be it was for convenience of the god to avoid confusion).There was one more family apart from me at that time. As I relaxed my base on one of rocks, one of the ladies from the other group very caringly asked from where I came. I guess love and affection is in the blood of the pahari ladies otherwise nobody shows such politeness to a stranger without any reason. Within some time, I gelled with the group.
A short 5 minutes climb from the temple opens the panoramic views of the lush green mountain speckled with houses scattered all over. Later, the ladies cooked the delicious khichdi in mustard oil which gave all the energy for way back. We all got down together till Benatoli where I bid the family goodbye for their company and the meal and headed back to Gwaldam on foot.
My travel experiences have made me conclude one thing- nothing goes as planned. Last night I determined to leave Kausani and head to the next Himalayan halt on the first bus in the morning. But all the planning went in vain. I did wake up early to gaze the snow-capped Himalayas; however, the recent fires in the jungles again disrupted my view and I went to sleep again with disappointment.
Then I woke up at around 8 a.m. and rambled on the terrace facing the valley for some time. Finally I headed to the small bunch of ancient temples known as Baijnath Mandir, near Garur on the Bageshwar route.
I waited for around 30 min at the local bus stand for the next bus. As I waited in anticipation, I could hear the loud voices emanating from the speakers on the private jeeps campaigning for the Gram Panchayat elections. The discussion on the candidates, the prevailing corruptions and future expectation appears to have taken leap over all other discussion at every tea joint in the town.
Amidst these burning political debates, I found the transport to take me to my destination – Baijnath Temples. After swirling through the turns of the mountains accompanied by the pleasant views of the pine trees and terraced fields being ploughed by the local ladies , I finally reached the Baijnath Temple.
The entrance to the precincts temple proudly boasted the ‘protected monument’ status by Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) but the conditions seemed to be unkempt. A little walk down the road, I was confronted by couple of teenagers wooing to buy food for fishes down in the river. I went down and was not much surprised to find only a few visitors cum devotees.
The small group of Baijnath Temples (18 shrines in total) situated on the banks of river Gomti is supposed to be built by the Katyuri Kings during 9th -12th centuries but there is no concrete proof tracing their origin to Katyuri Empire. At first look, it appears more like the mini Kedarnath temple. The design of shrines is simple yet elegant with a small three levelled spire. The shrines have been built by arranging heavy stone slabs of various sizes and it is believed that urad dal was used as the binder. The size of the various sizes may be different as compared to each other but their basic architecture and design remains the same. One can find meticulous engravings of ‘shiv linga, nandi (the bull of Lord Shiva) and other Hindu gods on grey rocks. The main shrine hosts magnificent statue of Goddess Parvati made from grey schist and a streak of bells hanged by devotees could be seen.
While strolling in the temples, all shrines except the main shrine and another one which houses the statue of Lord Ganesha were empty. I sat under shadow of one of shrines where some of the locals were sitting. After a bit of some friendly discussion, I intentionally questioned them about empty shrines. To this one of the aged responded that earlier all these shrines has statues but in late 70’s some of them were smuggled out of the region and sold in black markets. Thereafter, most of the statues were put in safe custody by ASI. However, he strongly opined that like many other historical architectures in India, the importance of this one is completely lost in dust of time due negligent attitude by the government.
I too was saddened with the ill fate this immaculate ancient architecture is suffering. As it was too hot, I looked to the river for some her to evade the blistering heat.
Finally, it was time for me to move out but I was about to witness one more thing. While walking out, I saw several people tirelessly trying to lift an innocent round shaped rock. I went closer only to discover another legendary story associated to it. Legend says that the rock could be lifted by nine men by using only one finger each and it stands true till date.
Leaving both the legend and legendary stone to stand the test of time to come, I moved ahead on my solo Himalayan voyage with the hope that it will get the attention and fame it is worthy of in future.
I’m finally on a longer vacation than the usual hectic weekend getaways. I have been waiting for this ever since I started my own blog. I must confess that writing and sharing the same over the blog has encouraged and inspired me to travel more and more. Earlier I only dreamt of travelling but those dreams normally succumbed to various work pressures and also to laziness on my part to some extent. But this journey aims to change all of it for once and all.
Although, initially I had many places in mind like Leh-Laddakh, Kullu Manali etc. but then I realized why not to start from my own home state-Uttarakhand also known as Dev Bhoomi (Land of Gods). Secondly, apart from few gleaming tourist destinations Uttarakhand is still unexplored and untouched unlike the neighbour Himanchal Pradesh.
Apart from this I did not finalized anything and left it on the spontaneity when I would actually take the trip.
A Distant View of Kausani
While lying on the bed two days back I just recalled the name Kausani from one of the conversation long time back and the next moment I was packing my bags for Kausani not even knowing in which corner of Uttarakhand it was. Neither, I knew which course my journey would be taking from Kausani- I left all decisions on spontaneity. Next day, I gathered all the required information to reach Kausani and the same night I was on a bus heading to Haldwani. I travelled for 12 hours non-stop from Delhi-Haldwani- Kausani to finally reach the starting point of my journey.
Kausani, a small town tucked amidst the dense pine and deodar trees offering splendid view of the snow-capped Himalayan peaks from various viewpoints across the hill. Unfortunately, due to foggy weather conditions, I could not have a glimpse of white Himalayan peaks in spite of doing everything possible. But I’m not disheartened as it’s just a start and I will have my view in due course. Further, this small hill town offers serenity and calmness which every city dweller seeks for. Another thing which makes it a perfect retreat is the fact that it’s still not pinned strongly on the tourist map and thus not overly crowded.
The Famous Tea Gardens
Even though I reached well in time in Kausani, I did not hurry like other tourist to cover everything as soon as possible. I leisurely rested for couples of hours, took small jaunts across the market and lonely roads, interacted with the locals, tried food at various joints and again retreated back to the guest house for some more rest. I guess that’s why I would prefer to call myself as “traveller” rather than “tourist”. During my interactions with the locals, I got to know the about the tea gardens for which this hill town is famous. It’s also termed as the “Darjeeling of Uttarakhand”. The light and friendly interactions with the locals helped me finalizing the itinerary for the next day.
Next morning, I woke up slightly shivering to have a glimpse of sunrise. There was negligible noise on the roads except for children strolling up to their schools. The fresh cold breeze on one hand and warms rays of rising sun on the other hand were the perfectly complementing each other. I might have witnessed sunrise on hills numerous times but every time it manages to run a candid feeling through my veins and so was this time.
The sun rose higher into the skies and I went for sleep for couple of more hours. Then I woke up when the friendly lodge owner came to the room to ask for tea. Thereafter, I quickly freshened up and set strolling on the hill roads. I headed to the famous tea gardens of the town on foot. I inquired the locals for the directions and at last found my way down the hill through the village. While ambling through the village, I saw their traditional dwellings built from stone and mud.
The traditional hill house is similar to duplex house with living on the upper one and the place for kitchen and the cattle (locally called ‘goht’). The upper rooms are interconnected through small windows so that doors are not required to be opened during night. All these resurrected the childhood memories when I used to go to my native village during summer holidays. When I saw these people, it appeared as if nothing has changed since then.
As I walked further, I saw few sheep grazing over the mountain while their owner (a traditionally dressed pahari lady) sat peacefully nearby. I sauntered further, I saw local ladies working in their terraced field and all of them shied away when I tried to click them. I would have missed all this if I had taken the wheel and I patted myself for my decision.
A Local Dwelling
After an hours walk, I finally reached the tea gardens of the Uttaranchal Tea Co. (P) Ltd. This is the oldest running tea factory of Uttaranchal and the only one in the area. Above the factory were the long streaks of tea plants spanned over few acres of terraced fields. I sat below a tree among the tea plants in silence to observe the fabulous view of hills in front and also to catch some breathe. Later, I walked down into the factory to learn more about the journey of these teas leafs to cups. But I was informed that due to some issues relating to pricing, the work was temporarily stopped, however, one of the factory worked was kind enough to show me machines and how all the process works. He too was quite worried about the future of factory as livelihood of many workers depends on it. I left the factory premises wishing good luck to worker which was at most I could do.
Some of the Items used by Sumitranandan Pant
From the tea factory, I went to small one room shawl emporium across the road only to find few hand knitting machines with no workers although the shop above it was selling the same. I rambled to few more adjacent shops where many organic products made from the local produce such as plum and apricot jams, wild honey, pickles and other cosmetic items were being sold. I kept myself at bay from these items as I’m on tight budget.
House of Famous Poet Sumitranandan Pant
I roamed around the tea garden for some more time and then again walked backed to my room for some more rest. In the evening, I again went for stroll through this small town. While walking on the roads, I read a sign board showing way to the museum of the renowned Hindi writer and poet Pandit Sumitra Nandan Pant. His paternal home near the main market is now turned into a small museum with some of his pictures, letters and the table and chair where he used to write. The museum normally lies vacant as most of tourists are even unaware who Pandit Sumitra Nandan Pant was.
The Beautiful Forest Rest House
After giving due regards to this eminent Hindi poet and writer, I headed to the Forest Rest House (FRH) located amid the dense pine and deodar forest. The road to the FRH is hidden below the pale brown dry pine leafs giving it a slippery touch and a retro look. As you go deeper into the woods, the echoes of the jungle take the leap and it gives a feeling of being lost. But soon you will see the stunning FRH originally constructed by the British to complement their lavish lifestyle. The beautiful sloped roof tops, the lovely gardens with different flowers and the attractive classic styled rooms make it best place in the town.
Gandhi Ji’s Anashakti Ashram
Since, I could spend the night there; I decided to spend some time in the garden. Soon, I was joined by the caretaker who enquired my whereabouts. I inquired the caretaker if I was missing anything and he told me about the Anashakti Ashram which had skipped my mind. The ashram more popularly known as the Gandhi Ashram is the place where Mahatma Gandhi wrote the Anashakti treatise. I proceeded to the Ashram quickly as it was already starting to get dark.
I reached the Ashram well in time and first thing I noticed were the monkeys. Although monkeys are usually chased by the locals and their pets but once they are in Ashram precincts, nobody dares to touch them.
The Ashram has several prayer halls, one library and all the boarders are required to strictly attend morning and evening prayers. Besides this, it also has a perfect view point towards the Himalayas making it one of the best spot to see sunrise and catch the glimpse of Himalayas. The Ashram also has Sarla Behn Museum which unfortunately was closed till the time I reached.
I spent rest of my evening in the Ashram- attending the evening prayer, sitting on the bench gazing at the Gandhi statue, watching the monkeys jump, and thinking of my next halt.
This summer, I ventured deeper into my own home state Uttarakhand to explore its beauty, calmness, stillness, quietude etc. which made me feel proud of being a “pahari”. Uttarakhand or, formerly Uttaranchal, is a state in the northern part of India. It is often referred to as the “Land of the gods” due to the many Hindu temples and pilgrimage centres found throughout the state.
I shall share my journey of getting closer and comfortable to some not so well known destinations of Uttarakhand that fits into tourist’s map which in turn make it untouched and leaves you with some mesmerizing experience.
I once again absconded from to the beautiful valleys of Ramgarh (also known as the ‘Fruit Bowl of Kumaon’) in Kumaon region of Uttarakhand and also to my home ground for some travel inspiration. The short trip resurrected the travel bug which nearly was on the verge of collapse under the hectic work schedule.
I commenced my short Himalayan voyage on Friday night to reach Haldwani next morning from where I ascended deeper into the laps of land of uncountable gods. When I entered the bus with cramped leg space heading towards Ramgarh, I sighted many faces – some young, and some wrinkled- all waiting patiently. There was no hurry, no verbal arguments,and no abuses unlike the mornings in Delhi Metro. It was a refreshing dawn- the tiredness of night journey didn’t seem to exist. I was truly excited for this solo venture into the Himalayas.
At last after a wait of 30 minutes, the bus started moving up in the hills. Through the twist and turns around the rich fauna and numerous hoardings of summer cottages and resorts alongside the mountain roads, the bus reached Bhowali, a major halt for buses going on this route. As soon as the bus stopped in the market, my eyes scanned the nearby shops for a one special thing which was one of the many reasons to visit the area at this time.
It was the local fruit known as Kaafal available in the region during summer only. Soon my search was over as I saw a hawker selling these tiny and juicy mountain fruit across the road. I literally ran across the road to grab them before my bus moves. It was merely priced at Rs. 10 for tea cup full of tiny Kaafal sprinkled with salt which made it the best combination of the mountain.
It made me remember the old summer vacations, when we used to visit our villages in the region and how we went into the jungles to pluck them from trees. It had been a very long time since I had these and it was on the top of my to-do-list for this trip. The rest of the trip to Ramgarh passed with much ease and pleasure with the company of Kaafal. In between, there were pleasant views of orchards dangling with apricots, peaches and plums. The area is well known in India as well as abroad for it premium quality apricots, peaches, plums, strawberries most of which is obviously exported to the developed countries.
After a soothing journey of about 1.5 hours, I finally landed my foot on Ramgarh located amongst the one of the finest orchards of the region. Besides the fine orchards, Ramgarh is also famous as Rabindranath Tagore commenced writing his famous work Gitanjali over here, although, the house where this legendary work started is in complete ruins.
There was a gentle calmness in the air- the time seemed to have slowed down as compared to my last morning in Delhi. The few tea cum grocery shops appeared on the both sides of the road appeared to be ‘shopping mall’ of the area. The local men (specifically aged ones) gathered at these tea shops and discussed anything from political affairs of the country to glamour of Bollywood. The best thing was that everybody knew each other well except me who looked for accommodation like an alien.
As I walked ahead, the cluster of tea shops came to an end and I could see the beautiful river bed on one side and the orchards with local dwellings on other. I enjoyed every step I took making me merrier than the last one. While I rambled in search of accommodation, I inquired with one of locals and the conversation sparked between us. He was kind enough to allow me to his house to freshen up and also offered coffee which I had not expected from stranger. Later, he dropped me to the Narayan Swami Ashram down the road and even requested the people there to accommodate me.
The Ashram is located a bit away from the road among the woods and offers serene and apt surrounding for meditation and even escaping from the busyness of the metros. There was only one condition of stay in this elegant Ashram– you have to follow the rules of the house.
Rule No. 1- Every day in evening there was a “yagya” by Ashram residents and everyone had to attend it.
Rule No. 2- In evening, there were spiritual lectures (more specifically from Mahabharata or Ramayana) to be attended by all.
Rule No. 3- Everyone had to reach for morning yoga and meditation sessions by 4 pm sharp
Rule No. 4- The food was simple with negligible spices and it was strictly as per timings.
Rule No. 3 was the most difficult one to comply with but I managed to be on time for these sessions and I was fortunate to attend the same. When I interacted with the Ashram people, I came to know many of them were yoga teachers in China and Hong Kong. It was really great to learn some yoga and meditation techniques from these professionals.
After attending the morning yoga sessions, I wandered in the fresh morning breeze along with the river, in the fields and on the roads. I sat on rocks wherever I liked, took pictures of whatever pleased my eyes and loved the stillness of place. I don’t remember, when was I had such a great time with myself.
Although, I wished to explore more but time seemed to run with double speed and I had to unwillingly retreat back to from where I started.
Recently, I sneaked out with my “wandering shoes” to the city which proudly boasts and promotes itself with the caption “Welcome to the city of UNESCO World Heritage Sites”. Although, there are many other places which hosts World Heritage Sites, but the homeland of the elegant Taj Mahal i.e. Agra has found a unique way to express it with boards displaying the caption all across the city to catch attention.
My earlier reminiscence of city was shabby one with garbage bins, potholes, narrow filthy lanes etc. but this time I realized that it was confined to only some old corners of city and those areas too have improvised a lot in the last few years. But the quintessential thing that literally drags tourist from all nationalities to this “not so glamorous” city is the majestic Taj Mahal which has made the city shine apart on the world map.
Royal Entrance of Taj Mahal- Great Gate
I prepared to visit the monument early in the morning in order to avoid the crowd and the heat but when I reached the gates of Taj Mahal at 8.45 am, it was already bubbling with tourists from almost all nationalities including the native ones. It was a relief to see the ticket tariffs with whooping difference among the tariffs for Indian and foreign nationals but soon I experienced the backdrops. The exorbitant ticket tariff for foreign nationals allowed them easier access to Taj Mahal while the Indian national were struck on long queues at the entrance. After jostling up with the few fellow tourists and security clearance, I finally reached the gigantic royal entrance (also known as “Great Gate” or “Darwaza-i-Rauza”) of this great monument.
The first look of the entrance made me whisper to myself “awesome” and it truly fits into that description. The beautifully crafted structure has profuse inlay work of white marble and precious stones into the red sandstone surface. The entrance is decked by graceful “chattris” (dome shaped pavilions) on the corners. The top of gate has eleven small domes (11 on other side, 22 in total) depicting the years took to complete the Taj Mahal. The verse from Holy Quran and floral design around the arches just adds to its beauty.
I entered through the royal entrance and found some old chandelier and some more floral design on interior of the gate. Finally, upon admiring the architecture, I moved ahead to have a real encounter with the one of the most fascinated wonders of the world. Even though I had seen numerous photographs and read a lot in our school curriculum of the glory of Taj Mahal yet seeing it live made blood circulation faster through my nerves in excitement. The feeling that was transpiring throughout me can’t be explained in words. Ever since I commenced travel writing, I have been always advised to stay away from clichés, but, the beauty and elegance of Taj Mahal is much superior to all those clichés.
I ambled inside and found it overwhelming with tourists from different cultures, religions and part of India and world who posed for their ever lasting memories with the white monument. Some of tourist tried to adjust incessantly with their cameras to hold the peak of the dome of Taj Mahal. I even clicked few for my memories and then strolled further on the walkway through the lush green gardens (also known as “Charbagh”) with fountain in the middle. It was really unfortunate to see that none of the fountains were functional and it felt that it needed some urgent maintenance.
As I walked closer to Taj Mahal, it started to grow in size astronomically with each step making me realize its grandiosity and architectural bravura. I strolled further until the guards diverted me towards the Jamat Khanah, a place for welcoming guests. The structure is believed to be constructed to preserve the identical symmetry of the mosque on the other side. The structure made with red stone flanked with marble works and octagonal chattris and beautiful designs on its walls are truly commendable.
I sauntered more through the rear side of the Taj Mahal to finally reach the long queue waiting to enter the main area. The ticket tariffs played a role here too as the foreigners were given precedence. Braving all the odds, I was at last standing in front façade of this architectural wonder called “Taj Mahal”. All the patience in waiting in long queues had finally paid off with abundant interest. The arched opening bordered by Quran verses, calligraphy, designs etc. makes it appear magical.
The flawless craftsmanship of the workers defeats the modern technologies. It took time to build Taj Mahal but there was not even an iota of compromise on any facets and it will not be an exaggeration to call it ‘perfect’. The latticed screen on façade from each side allows the sunlight to illuminate the interiors of the mausoleum.
I waited for my turn to have a peek of inside of the Taj Mahal as guards only allowed tourist in small bunches in order to prevent crammed situation. My turn came and everybody in our bunch bumped into each other to sneak inside. The guides took their clients to small corners or whatever space they could find to explain. I also took one corner to have a satisfactory look at the interiors which were decorated with similar designs, calligraphy and Quran verses as the exterior. The central portion has two marble cenotaphs of the creator (Shahjahan) and his wife (Mumtaz Mahal) encompassed by octagonal marble lattice screen with intricate designs. The original graves are preserved in the base to which entry is prohibited.
Soon my view was interrupted by guards who were continuously requesting our bunch to move out as there another standing by. I slowly ambled out of the mausoleum from the rear side. The rear side opened to the panoramic view of river Yamuna which once mirrored its elegant image in full moonlights but at present was dried and infected with the growing pollution in the vicinity areas.
After spending some “Wah Taj” moments with the white monument, I ambled my way out through the Taj gardens but was halted by a board displaying way to Taj Museum. Not many tourists visit the Taj Museum which was clear from the meagre number of people in the museum. The museum is set up inside the one of the “Jal Mahal” (Water Palace) situated on Eastern and Western sides of Taj Garden which were constructed as a part of Taj complex.
The Water Palace is as beautiful as rest of structures in the complex with ornamental arches on first floor and latticed opening on the ground floor. The slightly extended and decorated parapets add more flavour to its charm. I entered the museum and was glad to see some really well preserved relics and texts. It showcased the entire architectural plan design at that time with some ancient text books keeping records of the material and labour used. Some precious stones and tools used to construct the Taj Mahal were also on exhibit. Although many tourists skip this area but I strongly recommend to pay a visit to this museum to understand minute planning and detailing behind the Taj complex.
I rambled for some more time in lush green meadows, took rest and appreciated the flawless efforts over the span of two decades to construct this masterpiece. I also saw the uncountable expression of anxiety, excitement, astonishment, admiration, surprise, happiness and many more expressions on the faces of the tourist which truly explains the reason for it being the one of the wonders in the world. Finally, as all good things come to end, it was time to bid goodbye but by now I had gathered ample memories of this ‘wonder’ to cherish for long.