in the foothills of the Himalayas, a little further up from Nainital, in the Kumaon region. Driving up there was a nightmare. I take it back. Actually, the hillroads are in pretty good conditions. Driving through Uttar Pradesh was a nightmare. Major highways broken at infinite number of places, no road signs, narrow roads shared by trucks, rikshaws, buses, cart pullers, and endless number of villages that had sprung up along the way making the roads ever more congested. At a couple of places, the bridge passing over streams was broken which, traffic jams ensued and lasted for hours. Luckily, modest WagonR drives like a maniac and scares the wits out of passers-by taking on trucks 5 times its size. In our "respect-the-might" society, this has worked well so far and I was able to see Bhimtal, the original destination, in a little more than 7 hours from Delhi.Bhimtal was a bit of a disappointment: its lake-on-the-hills was unkempt and plastic waste was fluttering all over the place. The "resort where Hritik Roshan stayed", Monolith, was a bigger disappointment. While it looked quite picturesque from the outside, one could smell the damp suffocating air and moss and fungus everywhere. The sheets weren't freshly laundered. Not ideal housekeeping for a "resort".
Leaving early the nex
t day wasn't tough. On the way to Ramgarh, there's a Ghantewala temple where the devotees tie their own personal ghantas (bells). The temple is quite a sight. Although it did not hold much spiritual value for me, the bright colors, flamboyant expresions of the godesses, the many devotees and the continual sound of thousands of bells ringing: the entire ambiance did make me quite ecstatic. What wild and wonderful traditions! I did buy a ghanta myself, and thought of tying it in Mata Amba's abode, but then I decided she has more than enough and I need one for my home. It's hanging from a Keralite diya on my verandah and I love it!On to Ramgarh: the views from the car's windows seemed to be getting better and bett
er with every turn. The "rest stop" was the Ashok Vatika, a Neemrana property. The incessant rain had luckily kept the other tourists away, and the entire 2 suite 2 room villa suddenly became my royal home for the day! Since it was quite early in the day, I showered outside in the rain, ate apples from the orchards, freshly washed by the rains, and danced away - no other human in sight. This must be every urban dweller's dream. I had a strong desire to dance naked in the rain outside- but made-do with the second best, in a flimsy white beach dress picked up for about Rs 200 in Thailand.The Ashok Vatika, sta
nding at the highest point in Ramgarh, overlooking mountain ranges on all four sides, was a delight and pulled me into another era. It was definitely from the times of the Raj, but the furniture, although it blended in well, seemed to be from recent times. The highpost bed stood in the middle of the room, the suite was designed like a sunroom making the most of the slanting sunshine coming on through the mountains. I stayed up late, staring out the windows, listening to the untroubled breeze, the falling of some ripe apples, and pretended to read my book.Earlier in the day, I had walked down to the Old Bungalows where the Neemrana office is situated, and grabbed some instrumental Hindustani music. I asked them to bring some boiling tea up to my room. So, a few thousand feet up in the Himalayas, pretending I am the only soul around, I sipped my tea, listened to the soulful sounds of the valley...both from my laptop and through the windows.
Before sunset, I found a trail to walk through the orchard into the village. I tried talking to a few pink-cheeked kids I saw running around. They came up, said hi, giggled, and ran away. I was nowhere as interesting as their games. There was a desolate house somewhere in one of the orc
hards. I took a peek in...with cobwebs, broken windows, it surely had been uninhabited for a few years...perhaps a few decades.Ramgarh is rightly described as a haven for writers. No wonder an Aurobindo Ashram, a Rabindranath Tagore home and a Mahadevi Varma library are the chief social spots in this tiny hill town. It's easy to see why one would get inspired here: the unpolluted air, the sparse population, the scenic mountain ranges all over, apple orchards and colorful flowers in full bloom. What more could one desire?
