A Most Beautiful Walk – March 13

On our third day in Mussoorie, Sulochana and I walked about 2 miles, in a figure 8 pattern, around two rises in a mountainous area above the city. It was one of the most beautiful walks I took in India (the other that comes to mind is walking to the “pond” with Kavita and RP, passing the camels and enjoying the desert feel of that area of Rajasthan. By the way, I just found out today that his name is RP not Arpi – Kavita laughed).

We took a taxi up to the area. It had a charming name – can’t remember it in Hindi right now – but it means “Four Shops.” Why, you ask? Because there were originally only 4 shops, of course. Today the “berg” has grown – there are 6 shops. We walked from there. The road looped around through a beautiful pine forest. Again, I felt like I was in Tahoe. The views down the mountainsides were spectacular. You could see, in the distance, buildings of Mussoorie, looking as if they were attached to the mountain by magic. Off in the distance, IF the sky had not been hazy, we would have seen (and did the next morning) the Himalayas. It was quiet, serene, and utterly peaceful. In the entire 2 1/2 hour walk we encountered only 12 people and 2 cars. This is in India, folks. Unheard of!

As we walked along, the downside of the road contained “cottages” – large homes, by Indian standards, with tin roofs and large forested yards. My favorite was named “Shamrock Cottage” – in India, no less. A bit of the Raj– with an Irish twist. Monkeys were jumping from tree branch to tree branch – we kept an eye on them. Didn’t want them to jump on us. On the upside of the road was a national IT facility – heavy barbed wire marked the boundary. It was the only somewhat jarring note in a quiet, peaceful, cool forest walk.

Suddenly we came upon the old British cemetery. I had wanted to stop and visit it – it was on my “to do” list. The gates were locked but a young girl came forward and unlocked it for us. Her father was the caretaker but she would take us around. What a charming young woman (just finished 11th grade) who spoke impeccable English.

I have such mixed feelings about the British presence in India. They weren’t wanted, they took so much from the land, but they also brought development, trains, basic industries, etc. Yet they were a colonial ruling power. No matter, it is still sad to think about people dying so far away from home. There were many tombstones. Many were for young children and infants – the Indian climate, bugs, diseases were hard on them. It was sad to read their ages. Then the soldiers – some so young, others quite old. The tombs are in fairly good shape. She would carefully wipe away moss or leaves to read the inscriptions to us.

She took down our addresses and gave us hers. She clearly is lonely – she lives in a quiet, secluded place - and wanted pen pals. I promised I would write. I liked her. We stayed for maybe 25 minutes and then moved on.

The next part of the walk brought us to a group of 4 women leaving a tiny, itty bitty building – maybe 10 feet long by 4 feet wide. It was a Muslim temple! The decorations outside were beautiful – flowers and geese. I took a picture and will try to download it in Delhi. With their permission, we looked inside. The tiny temple was built around the trunk of a tree that went through the building – it was carved out somewhat and incense was burning. Simply lovely and quiet and so appropriate in the setting.

We walked on. Sulochana rented rooms here for a week at a time several years in the past. We passed the different buildings where she lived – and she reminisced. Our walk was one she used to do each day.

We finally ended up at the very small community of Sisters Bazaar – maybe 5 buildings. One of them was a handicraft shop. It, as usual, was FULL of things for sale – deep baskets that were overflowing, things pinned to the wall. What appealed to me were the handicrafts made by a group of Himalayan women – a cooperative of sorts. Of course I was hooked and bought charming bracelets that used recycled materials. I told her that the one thing I had not been able to find, that I really wanted as a memory of India, was a camel. Did she have any? She looked around and said, “Sorry, we don’t have any.” I went over to one of the overflowing baskets – filled with things like kind-of-ugly stuffed animals, parts of other products, things that hadn’t sold in the past. I felt something funny, reached down, pulled it out – and there was my camel. I knew it instantly. It had a little attitude. I showed it to her (unenthusiastically – so the price wouldn’t go up). She shrugged, “Oh, yes” clearly unimpressed. “It’s out of mud,” she stated rather dismissively. I assume she meant clay. “How much?” I asked. “Oh 150 rupees ($3.50).” Too much, I knew, but I wanted it. “I’ll take it.” She wrapped it in bubble wrap and it is sitting on my table right now. I just hope it makes it home in one piece. What can one expect from “mud?”

On the final part of the walk we passed a language school (you can stop in and arrange one-on-one lessons that start wherever you are in your knowledge of a language $27 a day for four hours of instruction.) We then walked by a new house, one that flowed over and down the side of the mountain (deep drop!) – maybe 3 stories total. It was expensive and utterly gorgeous. Not huge, by any means, but what a feat to construct it. The roof was slate shingles that were each artistically placed. Single shards of slate hung like frozen icicles along the roof edge. The slate on the side of the building was placed in stripes. It took your breath away. You could see through the windows that the entire back looked over the deep, deep drop down to the valley below. Beautiful walkways connected it to a covered area about 50 feet from the house. You wanted to move right in – although some people might find it almost scary to live so close to a precipice. What made us laugh? The sign in English that read, “Don’t even THINK about parking in this space.” The parking spot was the only space where a car could fit – but it hovered right against the edge of the cliff. I wouldn’t think of even trying to park there. One false step on the gas and you would go right over and a LONG way down. But here was an example of the wealth in India – this was an expensive house. One of the Bangalore IT folks? A politician? A Bollywood star? Who knows, but they certainly have a spectacular house.

The last part of the walk took us back to “Four Shops” and a taxi ride back to the hotel. What a wonderful walk – and so different from anything else I have experienced in India.