The Summer Capital of the British and now all
weather Capital of Himachal Pradesh has myriad charm—history, nature, hills,
forests, weather…it has everything you look for when in leisure
Amitabh
Shukla
I
have been visiting Shimla for a long time, the first being more than a quarter
of a century ago, in January 1991 and every visit since then has a vivid memory
associated with it. Whenever I see old photographs of the place which I clicked
over the years, I easily recall the places I visited, the eateries I went to
and what all I did there.
When
I decided to go there again this time in the fourth week of May, I immediately
recalled the first visit when I was a student of Delhi University. I had run
away to Shimla one fine evening without any train reservation by Kalka Mail to
the last broad gauze railhead of Kalka and taking the early morning toy train
to the Queen of Hills. What a memorable journey it was as I remember every
tunnel the train passed through and actually every hour of what I did there
over 25 years ago. I had stayed at the retiring room at Shimla Railway Station,
all for Rs 50 a day for two days, was the only guest staying there overnight
and thought I owned the entire property for the duration of my stay. I had
befriended the Railway canteen cook who only specialised in making fried Aloo
Paratha, before returning back to Delhi by the same route.
I
really cannot count how many times I have either visited the Capital of
Himachal Pradesh or passed through the streets on way to the upper hills of
Kufri, Fagu, Narkanda, Rampur and beyond. It could easily be over two dozen
times in the last seven years alone. The natural beauty of the hills and the
weather has always been an attraction and so has been driving on the
circuitous, uphill and downhill roads. In winters, driving on the roads above
Shimla with layers of snow has only sharpened my skills over a period of time.
I
have been to what has been the summer Capital of the British for work, for
leisure, for vacations, for weekend tourism and also for nothing in particular,
just to roam around the Mall Road and the Ridge, go down the hillock through
the Upper and Lower Bazaar and climb up through the lift or on foot. I have
occupied the iron benches on the Mall Road for hours, watched well dressed
tourists and locals go through their routine and have also stared at the clear
skies full of stars in the evenings.
Over the years, I have encountered numerous monkeys on the way when
walking late in the evening and also stray dogs when walking early in the
morning or in the late hours. I have seen monkeys and dogs fight for leftovers
of the tourists and watched their antics, making a mental note of their
behavior.
This
time round, it was an invitation from the President of the country which took
me to the pleasant Shimla when the temperature in the plains was in the mid
40s. It was “At Home”, being organised at “The Retreat”, the summer abode of
the President at Mashobra hills, around 2400 metres from sea level in the
middle of tall deodar trees and lush greenery all around.
Instead
of driving the 130 km distance alone to the Kufri Hotel where my lodging
arrangements had been made by the state government, I preferred to hire a Cab
so that I could attend to my phone calls and spend time with myself instead of
watching the roads and other vehicles which I do when driving. So, there I was
on way to Shimla once again.
The
Himalayan Expressway till the bypass of the first town of Himachal
Pradesh—Parwanoo—is a breeze, hills loom in the horizon but the sharp turns and
curves are yet to begin. Here, you have the only traffic light in this part of
the hill state which stops you for not more than 50 seconds before turning
green. You do not have any traffic signal for the next almost 90 kms till the
tunnel where the road bifurcates for two different directions of Shimla.
But
just after the popular resort of Timber Trail, massive construction work was
going on to construct a four-lane expressway instead of the two-lane which we
have at present. Hills have been sliced open in the name of development and
thousands of trees cut to make way for the road. Of course, this looks quite
ugly and like a war ravaged zone with huge earth and rock digging machines and
boulders all around. As construction in the hills is tough and so are the difficulties
associated with land acquisition, the work has been delayed and you have the
spectacle of sliding hills and the occasional boulder falling on vehicles. The
new four-lane road is supposed to by-pass Shimla and end at the Kufri-Mashobra
junction, reducing the travel time and distance from the plains to the Himachal
Capital.
As
I have been a regular on this road, I have seen the landscape change
drastically over the months with mountains being excavated and cutting of trees
on familiar roads. The dhabas and eateries which I had been frequenting during
my earlier trips are no longer there. The iconic Giani da dhaba at Dharampur,
mid way between Chandigarh and Shimla no longer exists. The construction of a
new road has taken a toll and the eatery in which a generation of students of
popular public schools nearby, like Sanawar Public School, relished the Punjabi
cuisine, no longer exists. Every time I passed the area in the last one year
since it was demolished, I missed the chicken items which the dhaba used to
prepare and moved on.
After
negotiating the dust and numerous diversions, we cross the crowded Solan and
soon after, the construction work stops and greenery starts once again and
there is a marked change in topography and climate now. This was the real
hills. As we enter Kandaghat and move uphill, the weather becomes all the more
pleasant and a cool wind is now blowing. I wanted the smell of the woods in my
nostrils and asked the driver to switch off the AC and enjoy the weather. The
only stop was at Kiarighat which has a small hotel cum restaurant run by the
government owned HPTDC called Apple Cart Inn. Over a period of time, I have
developed a preference for the government owned outlets of Himachal Pradesh as
they usually have a small lawn, ample parking space and a subtle laziness which
I prefer as compared to the professional restaurants which want the guests to
leave as soon as you finish what you have ordered.
Here,
the waiter is no hurry to deliver what you have ordered and takes his own time following
the instructions. “But who is bothered, I have plenty of time,” I thought,
looking at the waiter who had only one of the item which I ordered at that time
of the morning. The cheese cutlet which
I had ordered was indeed very well made and so was the tea and it was
refreshing after negotiating almost three hours of the hill drive amid road
expansion and diversion.
Soon
we were in Shoghi and then the outskirts of Shimla, facing a minor traffic jam
here and there in the peak tourist season of May. The driver Jasbir Singh, a
Sikh gentleman from Mohali, was an expert in hill driving, having been to
Shimla and all over Himachal Pradesh dozens of time. I reminded him twice that
if he felt tired, he could hand over the steering wheel to me and enjoy the backseat
ride. “Sir, I never get tired while driving,” he told me on both occasions. We
reached the resort where the Himachal officials had made the booking for me and
intimated me that it was Room number 201.
After checking in what looked like a luxurious hotel, I checked its
price on the online booking sites. It was expensive, close to Rs 5000 for a
day’s stay. The state government official who greeted me at the hotel told me
that he had got me a room with a balcony and a view of the hills and valleys and
it was quite spacious.
I
sat in the balcony of the hotel which had wooden tiles and a well designed
table and chair and saw the National Highway No 22 also called the
Hindustan-Tibet Road passing 50 feet below. This road ends at a village, close
to the border of China and passes through the apple belt of the state, the crop
which is crucial for the economy of the state. I have driven on the road on
several occasions in the past and instantly remembered my last visit in
February this year, a day after it had snowed and the road was quite slippery.
It was freezing cold with white all around and even the trees wore a thick
blanket of White then.
Well,
this time it was cool as I could feel a pleasant breeze making me feel cold in
the half sleeve T Shirt in which I had arrived. I soaked in the beauty of the
valley below and the massive Kinner Kailash range of mountains at the distance
and sipped a cup of tea, enjoying every sip.
Soon,
it was time to go for “At Home” of the President Ram Nath Kovind who was on a
visit to Himachal Pradesh and was staying at “The Retreat”. The numbered
invitation card had mentioned “formal dress” for the occasion. I had packed a
suit and also a tie but accidentally forgotten to carry black leather formal
shoes. I cursed myself for making a lousy travel preparation but what could you
do now. In fact, I had realised my mistake soon after I had crossed Solan and
thought if I come across a shoe shop on the way, I would buy one. I looked all
around, hoping against hope to find a shoe shop on the highway but didn’t find
any.
So
there I was, stranded in the hotel with a proper formal suit but no shoes to go
with it. I thought of calling the hotel reception to arrange for a black
leather shoe having a size of 7. But then I thought how would the hotel manage
it? “The hotel looks decent, they will simply ask its employees to hand over
their shoe size No 7 to me,” the thought came to my mind. Moments later, I
discarded the thought. “They will simply
laugh at me for the strange and unusual request,” this thought convinced me not
to call the hotel reception. How odd the situation was. I once again blamed my
memory, my habit of packing before travel and also the formal occasion where I
would clearly be a misfit.
Anyway,
there was no way I could back now and refuse to attend the “At Home”. That
would have been too embarrassing for my hosts—officials in the Himachal
government—and also would reflect poorly on me. So I decided to discard the
suit, wear a formal white shirt and Blue trousers and then the sports shoe I
was wearing with Jeans earlier during the journey. I looked at myself in the
mirror and instantly realized that it was a fashion faux pas, similar to a
wardrobe malfunction in the case of a fashion show.
“Let
it be,” I told myself, “who recognizes me here?” I tried to convince myself.
Then I proceeded to “The Retreat” in a place called Chharabra, on top of the
Mashobra hills. Officials greeted me at the security barrier and from here I
was escorted in another vehicle to the venue. “I am really sorry, I forgot to
carry my black formal shoes,” I told the Himachal official, who accompanied me
to the gates of the presidential retreat. He looked at me and then my shoes.
“Oh…never mind…such things do happen”, words came out. Clearly, he did not have
any answers and must have laughed at my plight. He himself was wearing a nice
coat, floral tie and a black pair of shining shoes with a good perfume for the
occasion. For the first time, I envied all those who were wearing black shining
shoes and this included numerous police men and women who had been put on the
VVIP duty.
After
passing through the security gate and entering the complex, I was only watching
the shoes of the guests. As far as my eyes could see, I did not find anyone
wearing casual shoes even the waiters and bearers were smartly dressed. “Well,
well, well….enough of shoes…focus your mind on something else, not the shoes,”
I told myself. It was indeed a difficult
task. As the timing of the arrival of the President was 4.30 and it was still
40 minutes away, guests were asked to sit in a shamiana for a while. We got
introduced to each other and I kept watching the shoes of others. Still no sign
of any casual sports shoe to give me company.
While
sitting on the chair, I deliberately put my feet behind so that people do not
watch me wearing the Blue and White running shoes, which also doubles as my
travel shoes for the sheer comfort it provides to the feet. Then we moved
towards the lawns where the President was supposed to meet all the guests.
Police and army officers in shining uniforms, top bureaucrats in their suits,
lady officers in their finest saris and suits, spouses of top bureaucrats in
their designer clothes and bags were all present. Even though it was outdoors,
the perfumes which were liberally applied by the invitees could easily be
smelled even by those who had blocked nostrils due to cold. Then there were some
politicians—ministers and senior MLAs—who too had come there and here I found
at least half a dozen people, either in sandals or casual shoes. “I have
company now,” I told myself, promising not to look at the feet of anyone from
now on.
A
gentle music was being played by the Army band present there. It was a familiar
old Hindi film song. Ladies present
there got together and pulled out their cell phones for that perfect photo.
“Please put this on the WhatsApp group,” I heard someone’s voice after the photo
session. The gentlemen too were not far behind, they too got together and
smiled for the pictures being shot from phones and still cameras. A few minutes
later, there was commotion and it was time for the President to make an entry.
The National Anthem was played and everyone was in an attentive mood. The
protocol officers with the President now asked the guests too stand in a circle
so that it would be easier for everyone. The President came and shook hands
with all the guests, some of them introduced themselves with their designation.
I simply shook hands with him, with a two-second eye contact, simply saying
“Journalist from Chandigarh”.
“Welcome
to Himachal Pradesh Sir, said a lady officer,” introducing herself to the
President. “You are my guest here,” the President told her, holding an
important position in the state government, before moving to shake hands and
greet other guests with folded hands. The first lady too was with the President
and they met everyone—around 150 people—present in the lawns of “The Retreat”
in perfect surroundings with the shadow of the tall Deodar trees falling in the
lawns.
The
Retreat is a historic building and was used by the British Viceroys and
Governor Generals in the then Summer Capital till the country became Independent.
The President stays here whenever he is in Shimla and this is a property of the
Rashtrapati Bhawan. It is a double storey building with archways, typically
British. The lawn was extremely well manicured and flowers looked not only
looked beautiful but were quite exotic.
There
was a soft signal from a protocol officer to start serving snacks and the
counters were opened for the guests. The sweet apple pie was delicious and so
was another snack made of mashed paneer. The President was seated with the chief
minister and the Governor of the state on a sofa while his family members too
were present and enjoying the moment. I took a small walk, near the edges of
the lawns to have a feel of the area—acres and acres of forest on two sides of
“The Retreat” was a treat to the eyes and no construction was visible from
here. On one side, there was a small concrete walkway for morning or evening
walks of the host and his family members.
Then,
it was time for the function to end. National anthem was played again, guests
stood in attention and the President went inside “The Retreat”. It was time
again to watch my feet and the sports shoe which I was wearing. “I carried it
through. I managed,” I congratulated myself as I called the cab driver and went
back to the hotel I was putting up. (May 28, 2018)
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