Random Expressions

It is six a.m.The sun’s golden streaks hesitantly color the azure sky. The birds softly twitter. The air is midly nippy.Despite the bird’s musical chirrup, there is a deep silence; a silence which doesn’t hurt but balms the frayed and frittered nerves. I haven’t brought any woolens. I wrap the hotel’s white bedsheet, like a shawl, and step into the dawn’s welcoming arms.

I walk out of the gate and move upwards on the road; it carries the sign which displays Trekking/Walking Route in English and Hindi, at the end of which a cemented block will inform that it is a path on which Jawaharlal Nehru (India’s first Prime Minister) walked on. The narrow road is empty and snakes upwards in multifold curves. The fresh air meets resistance from my city-sooted lungs but soon they acclimatize. My nostrils tingle as they greet the sweet smelling blended fragrance of pine and early morning.

The silence permeates within the body welding with the soul and stirring the heart. The pine trees on my left are tall, deep and dark. A careless wind blows through them and they shudder like a beloved caressed by her naughty lover. Beyond them the cliff slides precariously into a sharp drop, allowing however for some restraint where a few sloped-roof houses audaciously defy the mountains. In this deep jungle, leapords reside and sometimes they cross into the human territories. I throw a furtive glance, but the wild cat is invisible.

On my right, the hill rises to the next level where there is more greenery interspersed with some houses. The constant chitter of the birds holds the silence tenderly in their soft musical arms. A squirrel races up a tree. A dog in front of the house perks his ears but recedes to his vigilant sleep.

My thoughts and dreams are alone with me. They nag each other like quarelling siblings, each taking precedence over my attention. I smile at both indulgingly allowing them to randomly express themselves. They will not get time once I am back to the city. The peace and tranquility of this place intoxicates me and tickles my senses.

A lady fills water from a tap jutting out from the hill side. Shyly, she smiles. A boy on a bicycle passes by, with an incongruously modern cell-phone contraption playing music in his ears. Thankfully, my own mobile operator has chosen to stay unconnected. Last evening while driving to here, through stunningly picturesque valleys and vales, my colleagues had broken the entire charm of the place by constantly checking their network availability and loudly proclaiming if they detected one bar on the cell phone instrument’s signal strength meter. Some even ventured to call home through that tenuous connection stridently repeating every sentence as their voice cracked over the network. I appreciate their concern to call up home but since we were just a few minutes away from the main town center a little wait wouldn’t have been that bad. I think it has become an obsession to be always wired and connected and dry patches tend to make us uncomfortable and fidgety!

The hill on the right has shrunk and I can see another road moving upwards. The slope connecting the two is laid with a carpet of light green grass and pine trees dot it. A few children are playing. A couple of army personnel walk briskly on the upper road.

On my left I stand awhile taking in the breathtaking view of the valley descending below: the blend of coniferous forests with the sheer greenery of the slopes and the astoundingly crystal blue sky above arrests itself in my mind. I gulp the beautiful sight, almost guilty of the heaving sound my tired breath makes due to the uphill walk.

I move ahead and I notice that the road which I had just seen meets the one I was walking on in a junction. I am not wearing a watch but I sense it is getting late, so I walk back to Chevron Resorts, where we are staying.

My early morning walk on Ranikhet’s Mall Road is another marvelous experience which I will recall very fondly!

Ranikhet, a small hill station 1829 m above sea level, in the Kumaon region (and Almora District) of Uttarakhand (previously Uttaranchal), is 56 kilometers away from Nainital, but unlike the latter, commercialism hasn’t corrupted it. In a way Ranikhet warmly reminded me of Kasauli, perhaps because both the hill towns are cantonments; and, they have preserved beauty with a strict discipline. All along our drive last evening, we saw impeccably clean white and green buildings, in bright paint and in elegant condition. Unlike other hill stations, Ranikhet’s Mall Road is not its market place. The market (Sadar Bazar) is three kilometers away, at the town’s entrance.

Ranikhet, literally meaning Queen’s Meadow/Field, is truly a summer retreat in the true sense of the meaning far from the madding crowds, tucked beneath the mighty Himalayas, it is an oasis of harmony, quietetude and serenity!

Like almost all hill stations Ranikhet was also discovered and developed by the British (Strange that previous Indian rulers did not deem it fit to retreat to the hills in the scorching summers; I sometimes wonder how the Mughals could live in the blistering heat of Delhi or Agra during the peak summer seasons, especially since they did not even have the modern amenities like an airconditioner, or even a proper fan, not that the latter is of any good use - ask me! My fan fights a losing battle with the rising mercury daily!).

The British established Ranikhet as the headquarters of Kumaon Regiment and the Kumaon Regimental Centre, Museum and Memorial are still here.

With Indian middle class disposable income on the rise, travel within the country is increasing. Consequently, many hill stations (Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital to name a few) have started resembling the very mass of concrete that people leave the cities for. In this sense, Ranikhet is still joyfully untouched and unsullied. Enjoy its natural beauty!

How to reach Ranikhet?

Ranikhet is well connected by roads - and good ones at that, at least the stretches that fall within Uttarakhand. There is a direct route from Delhi via Moradabad, Rampur (famous, or should I say notorious, for its Rampuri knives), Haldwani, Kathgodam and Bhimtaal. It’s the route which we used while returning. We were told that Rampur can be pretty crowded and often people get stuck in jams. Mercifully, we didn’t encounter any that day. This section of the highway is typically bad.

It takes about 8-9 hours to reach by car.

Alternatively, you can also reach there via Ramnagar, (Corbett), Mohaan, Taarikhet and Machhod (the route which we took while going since we were already at Corbett National Park) but I suspect this is bound to be longer, though you may avoid the tough Moradabad- Rampur - Haldwani stretch. Do check before taking your journey!

If you wish to travel by train, you will have to take a bus from Kathgodam, approx 80-85 kms away. Some info on reaching Kathgodam is found here.

Where to Stay in Ranikhet?

Several resorts are available. We stayed at a very quaint and decent place called Chevron Resorts(on Mall Road). The place is quiet, has pretty efficient service and it also offers independent cottages for family/honeymoon travelers. The staff will gleefully inform that Subhash Ghai’s magnum opus Kisna was shot here.

Holmes Farms Heritage Resort is another charming place, which initially belonged to an Englishman who had made Ranikhet his home. Today the resort retains the bungalow in its original form, replete with wooden floors, huge beds and high ceilings. It gives you a feeling as if you are in some surreal film setting. Reaching there is a bit tough since it is perched atop a hill with the road giving way to a dirt one mid-way.

More on Ranikhet here, here and here.

Related Reading - Hill Stations I Have Visited
Kasauli (Himachal Pradesh)

Additional Reading (Non Related)- Mark Presents The Blog Carnival On Satire - My post “Culture Attack” featured there.

Technorati : Almora, Hill Stations, Hills, Mountains, Ranikhet, Travel, Uttarakhand, Uttaranchal
Del.icio.us : Almora, Hill Stations, Hills, Mountains, Ranikhet, Travel, Uttarakhand, Uttaranchal

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This entry was posted on Friday, April 20th, 2007 at 8:48 am and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.