Magical Moments

The mountain road winding thru cedar forests. The peace, tranquility and cleanliness almost slams my senses as soon as we cross the green and yellow gateway of the Kumaon Regiment Centre (KRC) into Ranikhet. The ethereal beauty with a majestic deodhar (perhaps the first on the 9 hour drive from Delhi) to our left welcomes us in. Since the time the Britishers discovered this celestial piece of earth to the outside world, the ambience of the place seems almost unchanged. Norman Troupe, who built his homestead, Holm Farm, here, would probably agree, a 130 years later, which still stands atop a hill surrounded by coniferous forests.

Aah, no hustle-bustle of a busy hill station. No touts offering the best accommodation bargain in town, or cajoling us to book a sightseeing tour for the morrow, or offering to escort us to ‘sunset point’ or ‘himalayan point’ in the evening. When did you need to hold another hand to discover nature in all its purity and grandeur? I don’t want this 14 km drive from Ranikhet to Majhkhali, to end. All thoughts of reaching our destination before dark vanish. Had we not already ‘arrived’?

Golf course ringed by pines. My eyes rove through pines ringing verdant meadows (to later discover that it is a golf course), wooded slopes of stately deodars standing sentinel to the winding mountain road. As the car negotiates a bend, a silver streak hits the sky. With a sharp intake of breath I slowly brake, bringing the vehicle to a smooth stop, almost guilty for the noise the engine was making.

The setting sun breaking thru clouds. The sun, slowly turning orange, slips from behind the clouds down towards the last leg of its journey for the day, saying goodbye with a splash of colors across the sky. As the seconds pass (or stand still?) the emotions of the Sun through the day are reflected on the white and blue canvas - silver, orange, grey - slipping in and between tufts of clouds, its rays streaking through the pine trees, calling to the birds to return home. Timelessness and creativity, new meanings are reborn; myriad emotions, changing, expressed and reflected with each passing moment – the pines, deodhars, oaks, tiny mountain flowers, the jungle babbler, the undulating hills, the tree line, soothing breezes, all juxtaposed perfectly. I realize, my furiously beating heart has settled to a trance at this discovery (setting suns have become a ‘discovery’ in the new millennium).

An ancient temple discovered during a jungle walk. Next day, I wake up to a misty morning and the views through the bay windows enthrall me.
"Blended of mists and light, winds and water;
Can a mere cloud bear messages?"
Now I know where Kalidas got his inspiration for ‘Meghdoot’.

The trails, behind the resort, on their way to the quaint hamlet of Digoti lead us through emerald foliage, into a small, ancient temple complex.

A colonial church now turned into a kumaoni factory. The romance of Ranikhet keeps unfolding. We stop to admire an old church only to discover that it is now a factory, with the war widows of the KRC operating looms to knit Australian Merino wool into shawls with ethnic patterns. At another place, a winding path into the forest brings us to ‘Carpentree’, a workshop where Kumaoni youth are engaged in making designer furniture, of legally felled pines, deodhars, surai. Employed are contemporary design and traditional techniques of solid wood craftsmanship and also the likhai craft – decorative wood carving that goes into ornate doors, beams and pillars.

As dusk mingles into the evening, the star spangled sky entices us to sit out with our favourite sundowners. Lounging on the restaurant balcony, the 270 degree view of the Himalayas – the king of the mountains – is ever so mesmerizing.

Thank you, city stresses, that I find all this so very magical!

- Achal Bindra Ban


Acknowledgement: Review from Caravan Travel Talk

High tea with the queen
By Rishad Saam Mehta

Ages ago, a beautiful Kumaoni queen, Rani Padmini, fell so deeply in love with the green glades and meadows of a tiny hill paradise that her king, Raja Sukherdev, built her a grand palace there and named the place Ranikhet, or queen's meadow. So goes the legend... There is no trace of a palace to lend credence to this legend, but few who have visited Ranikhet have any doubts about its charms.

Part of the Ranikhet experience is in getting there. The road hugs the mountainside, so for three hours you are treated to vistas that made the hill stations of Uttaranchal justly famous , thick, forested slopes of pine down which charge lively mountain streams and, far below, pristine valleys carpeted with flowers.

As you approach Ranikhet, keep a watch to the left for the best view of all. The ancient, snow-clad Himalayas , abode of India's gods, invincible defenders of her plains , come into view. No wonder unspoiled Ranikhet is the favoured destination of exhausted urbanites yearning to breathe in the fresh, invigorating mountain air.

Acknowledgement: Review from Outlook Traveller