HILL STATION

 HILL STATION

 

LT COL NOEL ELLIS

 

23/XI/2024

 

We all love to visit hill stations. The reasons are obvious. They being secluded from the hectic and polluted state of affairs of the towns in the plains give you a serene, calm, picturesque and a soothing comfort from the humdrum of the city. Right!

 

This may not be true for every hill station though. With our population exploding, we are thronging these places like mads. We go there to litter literally, eating Maggi and Kurkure by the ton and throwing away anything and everything we don’t want to carry with us.

 

Be that as it may, Kasauli was one place where we found that there could be a fine of up to Rs 2500 for throwing rubbish. Good that it is a military cantonment and probably the cantonment board along with the civic authorities were implementing it. But aadat se majboor Hindustani, standing next to a dustbin cannot discard his empty packet of chips in it. Why? I fail to understand.

 

Today, I shall leave that all aside and share with you the site and smells of a pure hill town.

 

As one climbs up the narrow roads, suddenly one finds all those who never cared for a red-light maintaining road discipline. Obliviously, if you break the line, you block everyone including yourself. Right of way suddenly becomes a norm. Uphill traffic being given the way, stopping at designated places to keep the traffic flowing is the rule.

 

As the air starts to cool and your windows go up, the green surroundings start to change your thinking. One feels good negotiating the hairpin bends, waving to the ladies carrying heavy loads of firewood and grass on their backs followed by their pet ‘gaddi dog’ at their heels.

 

The trees start to grow taller as you climb. The deep valleys give you goosebumps when you realise that you left the main road thousands of feet below where the traffic seems to be struggling to move up. A lake below appears to be an ocean. There is this eerie kind of silence as you drive in the first two gears.

 

You generally have no idea what is in store and where your accommodation will be. A customary halt to check rather cross check, as google aunty can be dangerous in such situations. The general answer is ‘seedha age’, chowk se ulte haath. The directions are that simple.

 

The Kasauli township is well annotated in typical military style. If distances are read from the milestones, here we had in meters. Plus, a warning that you are in a military area. Public gets disciplined automatically. No Khabbe-Sajje or Dabbi chal. One sentry in uniform did the trick.

 

Now one was in the lap of nature. Huge pine and deodar trees shade your move. The trees and the sunshine play hide and seek as you reach your destination.

 

To find beauty in the hills, it is not just the green canopied trees which catch your eyes, but it is also the dry ones which lived their life and would soon turn into firewood.

 

Smoke emanating out of the cottages and village homes don’t fill your lungs with filthy air but an aroma of the pine resin. You do not need a deodorant to freshen the air.

 

Pine cones catch your eye and one wants to collect them. Flowers growing wild in nature give your eyes a soothing effect. The gush of breeze in which the grasses sway gives some chilling effect. Out come the sweaters and jackets and a cap on your head. A clear indication that you are in a hill station.

 

Peace prevails, there is no hurry. You walk both uphill and downhill. Your body says when you are out of breath that you need to do more exercise. At the end of the day, a hot water bath to relax your muscles and get into the Rajai are ultimate bliss. The day's activity ensures that the moment you hit the sack, you are dreaming as if in Jannat.

 

Why can’t we stay all our lives here? Why did this visit come to an end? Can anyone answer these questions? I wonder!!!!!!!

 

JAI HIND 

©® NOEL ELLIS