The Queen's hills - Mussoorie

It felt like I was living out of an antique shoe box. Hotel Broadway at one end of Camel’s back road has been around for more than 50 years! Her exterior betrays no luxury and I can safely say that her interiors don’t either. It’s listed in Lonely planet as a backpacker’s favourite and for 200 bucks a night I really can’t argue. However, if you think I’m complaining about making this by home for the weekend, you’re mistaken. Hotel Broadway might not be the finest – her rooms are poky, the food, basic, but the flowered pots, the wooden floor panels and the excellent views of the green slopes from the balconies still lend a rustic charm to the place.  She stands almost stoically slightly raised off the road, as if the British never left Mussoorie. But in truth, while the Raj has long gone, their memory remains here in names, monuments and gothic styled edifices.

Mussoorie was initially constructed as a shooting lodge way back in 1825. 2 years later a sanatorium was built here at Landour. Slowly but surely, as India moved into the next century, Mussoorie became a popular holiday destination, especially during the summers. It now attracts thousands of tourists every year and not surprisingly, the forests have been pruned to make way for hotels, guesthouses and the like.

But  I choose to defer my colonial tours for a walk through the woods, a short trek to Kempty falls. Kempty falls is a frequented destination by tourists to Mussoorie. One can go there by road or trek to the falls from Happy Valley which is home to a Tibetan settlement including a school for the community. A short visit to the monastery, I think is in order and I find myself at the Shedup Choepelling temple at the end of Happy valley. I don’t really know what to make of the temple, but at least I finally learn what Mo Mani Padme Hum means.

The trek to Kempty begins from the monastery itself.  The trail winds its way through moderately dense forest and a few local settlements. It being August, the dampness of the monsoons engulfs me. Moss and short grass creates a green canopy on the forest floor. The trail beneath my feet seems softer than normal and the clarity of every insect buzzing, every bird chirping reminds me of my isolation on this trail. 

A short distance away are the bustling bazaars of Mussoorie, but out here, humans are oddly conspicuous by their absence. After about 2 hours, I realise that I'm closing in on the falls – I follow a rather small stream and the sound of gushing water to arrive at a cluster of stalls selling packaged snacks and ‘Maggi’ noodles. A little upstream from here, the little stream I followed, cascades down several feet to become the Kempty falls.

Kempty falls is quite the tourist attraction and there is even an Indian stamp issued with a picture of it. As for the name, I’m not quite sure, but it seems like it’s a local derivative of ‘camp-tea’, after the tea parties held here during the days of the Raj. But pleasing as the cool breeze and the spray of water is, I must rush back to Kulri Bazaar for what could be the highlight of my trip.

When the British left India in 1947, some of them stayed on, being smitten with India’s exotic and yet down-to-earth charms. You can find quite a few of their fair-skinned descendants across the country. And it is not surprising that here in Mussoorie, the local celebrity is of British origin. Ruskin Bond, a Padma Shri awardee is famous for his contributions to children literature. In fact many of his stories draw inspiration from Mussoorie and the Doon valley. He today resides in Landour and you can get a chance to meet him every Saturday afternoon in Kulri Bazaar. Well, thats at least what the sign outside Cambridge store said earlier that day.

Unfortunately for me, I found it quite difficult to get a ride back into town and as I hurry into Cambridge store, I realise that I am 15 minutes late – Mr. Bond had already left. As consolation, the storekeeper pulls out an entire heap of Ruskin Bond authored books, already signed by the man himself and available at the normal rate. I guess there are plenty like me around.

Its early evening now and I choose to spend the rest of the day in and around the bustling Mall road, where you are more likely to meet neighbours from Delhi than a local. I take the ropeway up to Gun Hill, where I was promised I would get a rare glimpse of the Himalayas. The trip isn’t very exciting – there isn’t much to see owing to the cloud cover, but the kids around love it nonetheless.

Gun Hill at a little over 2000m is the second highest point in Mussoorie. In the days gone by, a canon atop the hill would fire everyday at midday to allow people to adjust their watches. Post independence, the gun was melted to make taps, yes taps! The hill still attracts many tourists for views of the ranges. But once again, I reach the top to find mountains and the Doon valley below hidden behind the spoiler of the day – the clouds. Optimistic though were the local guides, who were convinced they could show me a few mountain peaks through their telescopes.

A few minutes later I am back at Mall Road after negotiating the moss covered steps down from Gun Hill, and decide to end my ramblings for the day at a ‘familiar’ Barista. My search for the real Mussoorie took me through her woods, mountain slope settlements, and her bazaars. Yet, I am now looking at the most ‘touristy’ version of the town, one that I had intentionally tried to avoid the entire day - the clouds slowly drift in- tourists stroll along the road adorned with old lampposts right out of the 1920’s. They are enjoying the weather, looking for the odd bargain with the street vendors and soaking in views of the Doon valley, whenever the clouds care to part. Above the din of the crowds, I can hear the clip-clop of hooves as kids enjoy horse rides. Its almost as if the ghost of Christmas past is about to sneak up beside me. Ironically, the only thing that seems a little out of place is the spritzer i’m drinking. I wonder if I should be wearing a top hat and sipping on some tea.  But, like most other Indian hill stations , Mussoorie has moved on to a comfortable Anglo-Indian blend.

The names are British, but the people are Indian, the buildings around show you her roots, but the lights tell you that she has moved into the new millennium. I trudge back to my shoebox for the night absorbing the last bits of Mussoorie before I leave in the morning.

About 3 years later, I find Hotel Broadway online at http://www.hotelbroadwaymussoorie.com/. Her prices have gone up and her interiors look much better – looks like she too is moving on.