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The Days in Dehradun

I liked this place the day I came here. It had all the perks of being located near the mountains, without the disadvantages of actually being a hill city. The place I was staying in for around eight months offered a spectacular view of nature, namely, a brook flowing at the foot of the hills with lush greenery around.

I came to Dehradun at the end of September. The rains had ended by this time and the chill was about to set in. Coming directly from Shimla, the winters were not as severe and though we lacked the fun of a snowfall, we had a good enough weather to enjoy. To take the advantage of relatively easier terrain, I became an active morning runner. One of the best time to enjoy this city is in the mornings. Less traffic, less people and less noise. Add to it, the backdrop of the mountains, gentle winds, birds chirping and you have a wonderful start to the day.

The reason I choose Dehradun was Ruskin Bond. Since childhood, the author had completely mesmerized me with his tales of the city and its people. Though the city isn’t the same anymore and neither are its people, yet it sounded very homely and warm place. Being away from the family, and especially during the pandemic time, the city didn’t disappoint me either. I loved being in the place, talking to its people, exploring the nearby places as much as I could. But I must confess, for an active, energetic traveler, the place may be quite dull (read: quiet). With not many gigantic malls, roads, buildings, an enthusiastic person might found the place lacking. However, the absence of these very things attracted me to the city. For me, the city complemented my personality. The more time I spent in the city, the more I felt associated with it.

The little time I had spent in Dehradun, I visited Mussoorie only once and that too dragged there by a friend visiting the place. The tourists who come to the state usually visit this hill station, rarely spending time in the valley city of Dehradun. During my stay here, I observed people coming up from Delhi in their SUVs, having a quick break in Dehra and making their way to Mussoorie, without giving the city a chance to mesmerize them. Few travelers I spoke to, after staying one or two days in Dehra, didn’t want to go out, finding peace herein itself.

As for me, I had been living in an overcrowded city since a child, wherein quietness is a much rare commodity. In Dehradun, I got a chance to experience that commodity in abundance. Sometimes, it was appreciated, sometimes, I wanted more people around. Dehradun literally, during the pandemic times, forced me to stop, gaze at the mountains, listen to the nature and appreciate what we have. Something we rarely do, busy in our daily lives. In many ways, the city spoilt me as not many cities in India offer the same solace as this place. But that is still for the future. For now, the place tells me to enjoy the present and be one with the nature.

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My first blog post

Why am I blogging?

Besides being completely free and starting to feel a bit useless, I felt blogging is an excellent way for one side talk. And being a travel freak as myself, why not combine both of them to start travel blogging. Also, the tag of being called a blogger seems to make you a little modern and a part of Gen-X (or was it Y or Z).

Also modern and Gen-X is to speak or let’s admit brag about the places you have gone to. And here I take a different approach i.e. off the beaten track (pun intended). I don’t instagram about it but write. I understand the question why to write when a picture can say a thousand words. Well, I prefer to write down those thousand words and not be lazy to just put up a picture and let the viewer interpret for themselves. Also, it reduces scope for any unintended interpretations or unintended photo bombs.

However, the blog posts I would write from hereon with be with best of intentions. And this intention would be to share. Over the years, I have the chance to visit some extraordinary places, most of them within my home country India and I would love to regale those experiences.

These experiences I would try not be interwoven around monotonous travel itineraries but people I meet, the laughs I had and the emotions the place brought up in me. I hope this blog makes you laugh and make you a part of those amazing journeys I had.

Bon Voyage!

Khowai Times – A new beginning

Coming back to the blog after two years of sabbatical is almost embarrassing. Firstly, I wasn’t writing such long pieces of masterly writing to deserve a sabbatical. And secondly, I was being plain lazy to write.

However, a few weeks back, another lazy friend encouraged me to start writing again. I tried to procrastinate as much as I could, but finally gave in to the advise. That makes me a better friend than a better writer.

Anyways, three years have passed. I have changed locations, met unique people along the way, learning from them and laughing and crying with them. I will like to think that I have grown personally and professionally in these years. But that will be better told by the people who have known me across the years. I sincerely hope they have all the positive things to say about me.

But what I’ll say in this blog is about the place I am currently situated in. Khowai. A small town in the far-off state of Tripura.

Many people still don’t know what Tripura is and it is would be near-impossible for me to believe that anyone besides the Tripura-ites and those posted here (like me) would know about Khowai. But let me take this opportunity to introduce a new town located in the corner of the North-Eastern state which is also situated at the last end of the eight states of the North-East.

Khowai is named after the Khowai river which passes through the district. It is neither a Kokborok nor some other tribal language word. It is a sleeping town of around four lakh people (I am from Delhi, so I would count this as a sleeping town). There are many peculiar facts about this place, like it is the cultural capital of Tripura, it was settled by Upendranath Roy, surrounded by two hill ranges etc.

However, my blog is mostly based on my experience of my place rather than on facts, which could be easily obtained through Google also. I came to this place on 17^th September, in anticipation of my first posting. And being a fan of small places (irony, here), I got endeared to the place. And to the people.

I like people of small towns. The fast-paced, consumerist lifestyle hasn’t caught up with them yet. They are in a stage of transition. Adapting to the changes around them. But the hospitality and spirit of community, as seen in a village, remains. Khowai is similar. In a stage of transformation. Amenities of city getting developed, but the spirit of village remains.

The other thing I love about not just this place, but the whole state is greenery. I grew in a concrete jungle but very close to trees (albeit few). When I see greenery around me, it makes me feel rooted. It brings a sense of familiarity. A smile on my face. A delight. And so seeing the trees, the lush farms melting into the blue of the sky with sometimes the red sun of the dusk adding to the element, makes my day. Another thing which completes this mosaic is water. Water of ponds, rivers and rain. It enlivens the green and my mood. It makes me feel a little less lonely. A little less away from home.

My journey in Khowai has just started but the natural beauty of Tripura I am already enchanted with. And one thing I came to realise about myself- give me a view of nature, and I am home.

Last few days in Dehra- An Ode to the city

The last time I wrote a blog post was on my first visit to Dehradun. My post gives a good enough idea on how much attached I am to this place. Now comes the climax to my wonderful stay here in this place.

But first, let me rewind few events over the past year or more. After staying in Dehradun for eight months, we were called back to Shimla. Again a city I had earlier written about. But this time, I had experienced Dehradun and my heart was already longing to go back. After staying for over two months at Shimla and in between having an intensive Himalayan Darshan (which deserves another blog post), we got our place of posting. And thanks to the Supreme Being listening to my prayers, I got the opportunity to come back to Dehradun.

And now I come back to the city which is dearer to me than my own home. The same room with the same view. I wake up to the chirping of birds in the morning, sit in the balcony and let the breeze calm me down, or listen to drizzle as and when it pours.

This place has always been amazing but this time I owe a lot to it. This is the first place where I initiated my footsteps as an officer. This is the place wherein I learnt to be happy sitting in a single room studying for four months continuously. This is the place which makes me smile by just standing every morning in the balcony and seeing all the lush green trees around me. For four months from September to December, all I had for company was a room and the view of mountains and forests from it. This place made me contemplate my life choices and what happiness meant to me. Even today, it made me think whether I actually want to leave this place. Words will never be enough to describe my gratitude for this place.

This blog post is an ode to this place, which has taught me the meaning of love. And I will always carry it in my heart, remembering it during good and bad times, the values it taught me. My journey in this place might end in two weeks, but my ardent hope of coming back to Dehradun will always be present.

Going forward, Looking Back

As the vehicle wound down the hills, I wanted to sleep. Surviving on three hours of sleep, the motion of the car was lulling me into closing my eyes. Yet I wanted to see and absorb the mountains for one last time. The mountains which had been my home for last nine months. Which had kept me safe while the world outside reeled under the pandemic. And, especially for the love it provided me while I stayed in its bosom away from my family for so long. The mountains!

I had come to Shimla, not in great anticipation. Mountains are difficult. Every step requires effort. Life in levelled land is much easier and convenient. But now I am changed. Mountains are beautiful when respected. They teach perseverance in doing small things. I came here during winters when the hills were clad in white snow. From winters, we came to spring, when all the mountain flowers bloomed. Then came the summer, when it was reliving to be away from the heat of the plains. Then I left in autumn.

Shimla and its people has taught me many things in this time. I have come to value my time much more. Moving away from here taught me that even a single second is precious and memorable. And ultimately it’s not the place, but the people who make it worthwhile. The people I have been surrounded with in these past months have been generous. They made me a part of their life, even though momentary. They have loved and cared for me for which I am grateful. This past year has been one the most memorable time of my life because of these people. Almost every day had its significance. They have helped me grow as a person. I come back to my (original) house, with multitude of experiences and moments.

I remember the day I started my journey in these hills. The journey has been good and satisfying. I couldn’t have asked for a better one. The hills and its people graciously accepted me and for that I will always remember them fondly. Now, when I leave these hills, it’s an end to this phase. My heart is still heavy on leaving them behind. But without accepting an end to this one, I couldn’t start a new journey, a new phase. I treasure this journey into my heart and will remember it to give me a smile (or a laughter) in future. This place won’t be my home any longer but it will always remind me what a home feels like. I hope the next place strengthens me even more. Goodbyes are hard but a necessary part of life. It’s time to bid adieu to these hills and open my eyes to the new roads ahead.

Till then,

Bon Voyage

Over the months and days, Shimla and its ways.

Back to the streets!

Normalcy is returning. This is not just because people have resumed fighting with each other over parking spaces, but you also see dogs no longer shocked to see crowd of people walking on Mall. Two months ago situation was completely opposite. Birds chirping, wind blowing, dogs happily trotting, all in the absence of humans. Now with humans back, the temporary visitors have again gone back to their shelters.

Recently, I had the privilege of walking the Mall again after months of lockdown. Although the walk was more of a forced walk, than a voluntary one. Nevertheless, walking in hills, close to nature, in lovely weather has a tendency to heal all the psychological wounds. And with temptation to get bakery stuff at the Mall, the legs get automatic power to walk.

I had not imagined that there will be so many people outside. All shops were open. People were actually buying stuff and Adidas clothes definitely do not come under essential supplies. However, everyone seemed happy so I was also my jolly self. As long as precautions are maintained, no need to restrict people around. And seeing so many people around, I wondered how empty and dull the Mall, if not the world, will be without humans. Sometimes, we are so much used to see people around us, that their absence only makes us realize their value. However, I must admit, a densely crowded hill station like Shimla could see a little less of crowd.

I went to the Mall on a Saturday and came back in two hours, after buying an essential footwear. Sadly, the bakeries were still closed. One of the casualty of the pandemic. As things open up and people come back to the streets, I have also started a new routine of evening walks. After all, one should take full advantage of hills in absence of tourist throngs. The walks are small, and with mask on and spectacles getting fogged up, I am taking extra precautions of not stumbling and rolling down the hill. Sometimes on isolated stretches, the dogs and the birds join me and we walk happily down the road. Another times, I’m running down the road after being chased by some random monkeys. All is part of life at a hill station, which continues to satisfy the traveler in me even amidst the difficult times.

The room below the roof

It is raining here in Shimla. For some reason, I adore rains. It adds a freshness and vibrancy to nature. It subtly gives the message to enjoy everything with a new enthusiasm. It cleanses past and pushes us to start again.

A new beginning could also be said when I changed my room last week. No longer, I see deodars and snow from the window. Now I have only a wall to face. But let’s not trivialise the wall. The wall has had a long past. It has been a constant in the lives of an erstwhile British Secretary and a renowned pre-independence figure of India. This wall, here, definitely has had many secrets.

However, last two months, I was beyond the walls and also beyond Shimla. I was amidst the two highly bustling cities of India- Delhi and Bombay. Both these cities seem like siblings. While they may have different exterior, their soul remains the same. Both are cities of contrast. Rich and poor, tamed and untamed. And this seems even more real when you come down from the hills, right into their hearts.

Speaking of hearts, Delhi has always been where my heart is. Not to give any wrong romantic notions, but the attachment is due to me being born and brought up in the city. The history of this place is outstanding, the people, amazing and the food, delightful. During my twenty-five years of existence, I have seen this city grow and change drastically. From more trees and less people to less trees and more people. Gurgaon and Noida seemed to be like places to be visited only on weekends. The place where only one blue line bus used to operate to present days metro rails zigzagging across every corner. Delhi has changed a lot and it is still unstoppable.

The same can also be said about the ‘Mayanagari’ of India or Mumbai. This was my first visit there, so nothing to compare the present with. But one look, and you see how fast the city is growing. High-rises coming each day. Sea getting reclaimed by roads and bridges. Thousands of people pouring into the city hoping to start anew. Mumbai, too, has a lot to do and provide for the people who expects to make this place their home. Both Delhi and Mumbai seems to be like overburdened children catering to expectations of such vast country and its population.

In contrast, stands the place where I am right now, Shimla. Life is much simpler here. The farther you would walk to will be till the Mall. The trees around you, enveloping you, reminds you constantly that you are only a human and a part of nature. It tells you to relax and enjoy what’s around you. It tells you that sometimes enjoying something as minute as the rains might lead to a new beginning and a fresh start.

Words from the hills

Writing a blog on someone else’s laptop feels like replacing a natural organ with an artificial one. They might work in a similar manner but it’s not the same. So pardon me if my writing reflects a little consciousness, limited and a bit of forcefulness.

Also a little conscious, limited and forceful is what you feel when you experience the weather of Shimla in December. It had been a warm morning in morning. Just as soon you decide to walk up to the mall, it starts raining. And as soon as you reach back to your place of stay, it is sunshine again. Therefore, it gives an important lesson of life: be always prepared for eventualities and don’t rely on the forecasting guys out there.

My visit to Shimla had also not been forecasted by anyone. Only twenty days before coming to Shimla, I came to know that I would have to spend the next one year atop the hills. It would have been better if the sojourn would not have to start from peak winter i.e. December. But then again one should always be prepared for eventualities as I am doing now.

Also, good enough is to be prepared by colonial heritage galore this place has. Not a bad thing. But the people (read tourists) flocking around this heritage blocking your views or coming in between photographs could be a little annoying. People like the colonial buildings here are in abundance. A reflection of the past amalgamating with prospects of future.

And the future does sound a little bleak. Depleting natural cover, water scarcities, migrating youth towards plains and infrastructural pressure, the place has a lot of challenges. However, it stands resilient since the days of its summer capital past. The people here remain warm and soft spoken despite the toughness around them.

Tough stay would also be for a person not used to walking. This I could say from a personal experience and sadly so. But it is a good exercise and I tell my lazy self to enjoy a walk as long as you can in the cities of India. It had only been a week for me in Shimla. The heritage buildings, the weather, the tourism does not excite me much about this place. Finally, it is sitting on a table, while I see snow falling atop the deodar trees, writing on (someone else’s) laptop makes this place a worthwhile and cherishing place to be in.

The wettest place on earth

I had lost my travel diary in Shillong. For a fresher blogger, who is just beginning to write about her experiences, this was a rookie mistake. I recall with fondness the points I wrote while our amiable driver was telling us about his native place in East Khasi hill district of Meghalaya.

Although Meghalaya is not an easy place to get lost in. It is small, largely uninhabited. Around three-fourth of the area is covered with forests. The roads wind through this scenic beauty which seem to be blessing for eyes of a delhi native. The guwuhati to shillong journey boasts of one of India’s best quality roads suprising for a region which is tucked away in one corner of the country. Another thing the region can boast about is its rich natural and cultural heritage.

The region receives most rainfall in a year in the world. Paradoxically, water availability, even for drinking purposes is insufficient. Most of the water just runs off the plateau region of Meghalaya causing havoc on downstream Assamese. However, it has helped in creating a unique biodiversity site. Many of the flora and fauna of region is a kind of its own. As a child, I always wanted to see the infamous carnivore plant, the pitcher plant and the only place it is found is in Meghalaya.

The (over)abundant rains have also led to plethora of caves in the region. The adventure-seeker I am, caves exploring was on a must-to-do list. Although some caves could be treacherous and risky. So adventure with logic and practicality might be better suited for the job.

This excellent natural architecture is preserved by the tribals who inhabit this region. They have held onto their heritage and developed it further in a way no policy or law could have made it happen. They have created eco-parks, celebrate festivals around nature, and evolved their own governing councils to take care of this unique culture. However, economic considerations seems to be taking a toll. Intensive agriculture, mining and even tourism are increasing and overabundance of that as well might just be too much for the fragile region.

The fragility could also be seen among the ethnic diversities of Meghalaya. The outflux of tribal students and youth is on rise while influx of labourers and blue collared workers from northern india is too on increasing trajectory. The multitude of houses displaying homestays boards might indicate a sense of desperation for secure means of living. Education and health has always been good enough for natives, and as demand outpaces opportunities, restlessness for a good future grows.

Another thing which is restless here are the tree roots. They grow and grow to such an extent to be developed into bridges. Double-storey, single-storey root bridges rise up the river as a gentle reminder of the tribals who inhabit these forests, using and respecting them in an admirable way.

Also, admiring are the sights of the clean villages here, the customs and traditions of khasis, the big churches of the region and the rolling topography of the region. Calling this region Scotland of the East might be an injustice to the peculiarity this place offers on its own. It is the region’s incomparable beauty both in nature and in people which settles in the heart. And that is the reason why this blog post could be written even when the diary was lost.