It was set at just the perfect time and the perfect location. Best friend's wedding, a hectic half of the year, onset of the monsoons and in all time for me to take a break. As regards to the location, what could have bettered Dehradun? The mystic sleepy little town standing guard before the mighty valleys of the north.
It was with excitement and anticipation that I boarded the Spicejet flight to Delhi to travel onwards then to Dehradun. The trip led me to the national capital after more than two decades, not that I had much of a stay there. Delhi Airport resembled more of a railway station in the afternoon. I clambered on to the Bombardier - A snug tiny aircraft with 'propellers'. Dehradun was arrived within 30 minutes. The airport is 30 km away from the city forcing me to hire a clapped out taxi which looked like it had been around since the days of Ramesh Sippy's Sholay. There was lot more to do that day, reunion with my friend Puneet after three years, lots' of things to catch upon and drool about the good old KGP days over generous mugs of tea. Lot more events took place that evening but then this is a blog about the Dun.
Next day we set out on the tour to Mussorie. It was not a long road, but then the road meandered curiously around the hills, sometimes like a dog chasing its tail. The driver tried to help us relish the view by keeping the speed of the bus below 20 km/hr. The subject of our tour was the Kempty falls projected as a major attraction of Mussorie. Suffice to say here that I was disillusioned on reaching the spot. Narrow roads, unruly parking, more eateries than the number of tourists, wet boxer shorts hanging around, big fat bellied slobs washing their dirt in the pools made from the flow of the meager water jet which was shrouded by the skeleton concrete structures to my utter dismay. The place was littered with plastic bottles, wrappers and filth of all sorts. Though I will concede that were one to ignore the waterfall and just behold the hills, standing stern and proud as if unwilling to yield to the arrogance of men the scene was pretty much worth the ride that day. We returned back to the hill top town of Mussorie.
Mussorie had been tamed by the British. The afternoon explained why so. Mists floating in, light drizzles, cool jets of air. The Mall street is a boulevard running along the length of the hills offering a panoramic view of the valleys below. The meandering, the landscape, the ornate street lamps, even the fragrance in the air reminded me distantly of Wales. The town dripped with romance, I was to find out next day. We returned back to Dehradun in the evening which was eventful with Puneet's nuptials. On the way, I lost away my weariness and the myriad of macabre thoughts which had demented me for the past half a year. Gautam had also arrived and we planned to go up to Mussorie in the morning next day.
Having sat the night through the wedding ceremony, I set out for Mussorie again in better anticipation of the promise it had displayed. My faith was well rewarded. The first stop on the way was the Mussorie lake. Hardly a lake, but it still offered the paddle boats which were so heavily featured back in the Bolly films of 70's and 80's. To add to the setting there were oldies from Kishore Kumar being played in the background. This served as a refreshing break from the hill road which albeit had breathtaking views but adamantly induced dizziness.
Next stop was the Company Bagh gardens. These are a spectacular combination of serenity, calm and nature as they stare down the gorge which separates the garden from the Lal Bahadur Shastri training centre. I took my fill of the solitude, calm and the cool offered by the gardens. This has to be a must watch place for ones who plan a Mussorie trip.
We returned back to the Mall road for some quick refreshments. The street would resemble the city centre of any European medieval town. The walk down the road was amazing and refreshing. This led to my first and last purchase. A black hat made in China. It fulfilled an age long fetish I had for wearing hats. The Mall street houses a variety of shops to collect antiques, handicrafts, clothes. It also has a range of cafes and restaurants. The fogs coming in offered a mystic experience. They keep you longing for more and more.
We returned back to Dehradun to visit the Forest Reserve Institute. This is a centuries old building, one of the many things that the British gifted India. We were too exhausted to explore the various museums housed within the majestic structure and the sprawling lawns. Hence we sought solace in the canteen (which warned against wasting time within it. But then, canteens are by default havens for killing time, aren't they?). We retired for the day.
Sunday morning was spent in exploring another of the mountains streams near Dehradun. This particular stream was known as Sahastradhara with a reputation for the mineral properties and sulphur content. Alas, this had been too badly exploited by the locals who set shop running riot along the stream. Same ugly fat bellied slobs in their boxer shorts dumping themselves in like water buffaloes. Having had enough of the place, we proceeded to the Jolly Grant Airports for our flights back home.
On the whole it was a satisfactory trip, I am not done with Mussorie yet which has left me wanting for more. I hope to be back sometime soon again and complete the touring. On the bucket list will definitely be another walk through the fabulous Mall road with the fogs coming in and hopefully a sprinkle of snow.
- Maahi Ve (Highway - A.R.Rahman)
No comments:
Post a Comment